Essence of Quinn Parts 3 & 4 (MxM)

The Shape of Things to Come

Burning white eyes strayed to the simple silver chain that hung around Convel's neck-the chain his own pack had fastened there in betrayal-and he suppressed a shudder, well-versed by now in the protocols of these little tête-à-têtes.

"Perhaps one day you will serve a master who does not waste your talents," the fallen angel said, warm fingers ghosting over the sweat-slicked skin of Convel's unwillingly human form, tracing up his chest to the base of his throat. He ran a finger along the metal links.

Eligos' voice was smooth as silk-silk wrapped around a heart of thorns.

Convel didn't react, even though the thought of trading one master for another-of being owned again, still-twisted his stomach. Better the devil you know, he supposed.

"Are we done, Eligos?" he gritted out.

Eerie white eyes narrowed, and Eligos rolled away from him, gracefully climbing to his feet and unfurling magnificent double set of white-feathered wings, the edges red as if tinged with blood. He smiled down at Convel, gaze devouring every naked inch of him.

"For now. I shall be in touch very soon."

Convel sat up in the furs, resisting the urge to draw his knees up to his chin. Any perceived weakness was dangerous with a being like Eligos. With any of the fallen. Convel gave him a sharp nod and Eligos' perfectly symmetrical face lit up with a beatific smile. He turned and left without another word. A flutter of wings, and he was gone.

The second Convel was sure of it, he shed his humanoid shape, rippling back into hellhound form. The familiar burn of smooth flesh giving way to sleek fur and the sharpening sights and scents made him feel infinitely steadier. Focused.

He shook himself violently to rid himself of the lingering scent of the demon duke-the taint of betrayal-and huffed a ragged sigh of relief.

Another meeting survived. Another session of secrets and lies. Another step closer to a fate he couldn't escape.

He stealthily made his way out of the private room at the inn they'd used for their meeting this time, and out into the night. Lethal claws dug into the packed earth and he glanced up at the darkened sky. The sliver of the blood-red new moon hung low on the horizon, and Convel picked his way through the shadows of the back streets, coming to a stop behind an opulent, tall apartment complex.

He took a cleansing breath and allowed the transformation magic to take him, standing on two feet and clothed again within a heartbeat. He rolled his neck on his shoulders, allowing himself a moment for the shape to settle. The change always came so much easier when he instigated it himself-when Andras did not force it on him.

Convel closed his eyes and tilted his head, listening and scenting, determining if she was there. A slow smile crept across his lips when he sensed her there in her haven, and he made the mental shift that was always necessary when he spent time around her.

He wanted to be better. Wanted to be worthy of her.

In an instant, he'd made the jump through the physical plane and ghosted into the only place where Convel had felt any semblance of safety in recent memory.

He re-formed just inside the locked door of her apartment. The ghuleh was pouring a goblet of wine, and she spun around to face him. Purple eyes burned through the warm lamp-lit gloom and she grinned, holding out the drink to him.

"You're late, Mutt," she said with amusement. "I was beginning to think you'd stood me up."

Convel was on her in three long strides, snatching her up and wrapping her thighs around his waist. She squealed in surprise, holding the wine up so as not to spill it. Convel nuzzled her throat and drew in her scent, earning him a husky laugh right into his ear. Sweet music. He nipped at her skin playfully.