Immortal Seduction Read online

  And his refusal to trade the teenager had nothing to do with avoiding the hurt, disappointed expression that he would see in those luminous blue eyes when he explained his choice. His decision certainly had nothing to do with a craving to see a nubile body encased in baggy jeans and a ratty T-shirt.

  "That's okay, Malcolm. I'm sure Mihato would be willing, but the brat needs to get experience sooner or later. And I'll be with him at all times to watch his back."

  Reed nodded in his usual decisive manner and Darren rose from his chair, believing their meeting to be over.

  "Just remember one thing, Cox."

  The fact that his supervisor was addressing him by his last name sent warning flags up in Darren's mind. It was standard procedure for the Chief to call everyone by their last names, especially during business hours. But over the years the two of them had developed a bond of mutual trust and respect that allowed for first names when they were conversing in private. Malcolm only used his last name when it was just the two of them if he was about to make a statement in an official capacity. Such statements were unquestionable and crucial to keeping his ass out of a sling.

  "Simms is not an ordinary Retriever. There are ... complications surrounding his retrieval abilities that are a result of the way he passed over.” Malcolm made direct eye contact the entire time he spoke, but there was a shield that hid any thoughts or emotions he was processing at the moment. The Chief was not an open or expressive person by any stretch under usual circumstances, but his static expression, perfect for a game of poker, was something new.

  "Exactly how did he die, sir? I know the history of every agent working in this division, except for his, and I have to wonder why."

  "That is confidential information. He'll tell you his obituary when he's ready. Until then, watch his back. And watch yours, too. I know you've sent more demons to hell than any agent in the history of this division, but this case is still going to be a bitch."

  Darren actually smiled upon hearing his stern boss use a real curse word and not a euphemism. That, more than anything else he'd said, conveyed the weight of his concern for his long-time associate.

  "Don't worry, Chief. I doubt losing my soul could be worse than losing my body."

  With those parting words, he marched out to face his chattering, annoying fate. If he was lucky, he might be able to slip out of the office and get to his private quarters before Tanner assaulted him with his bouncy presence. He barely heard the Chief's parting words, spoken in a soft, grave voice.

  "You'd be surprised."

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  Chapter Two

  The fact that Darren was not immediately set upon by his salivating, jabbering partner lulled him into a false sense of security. He lingered at his desk and finished his latest mission report, it did only have one more page to go, after all, before straightening his desk and getting ready to head for his private quarters. He even made himself available for an extra fifteen minutes after that in the open, just sitting in a leisurely way at his desk, giving the young predator every opportunity to pounce. When forty-five minutes had passed with no sign of Tanner, Darren assumed the youth had mercifully been distracted by something, possibly a shiny object, and would be occupied for awhile, providing him a Heaven-sent opportunity to escape.

  And he was definitely not feeling disappointed that a soft, near-breathless voice was not droning on a little too close to his ear for comfort. The brat's complete disregard for personal space had nearly put his tongue in Darren's ear in the past, causing a tingle that had to be related to revulsion and not sexual excitement.

  The walk back to his suite was uneventful. Each operative in the Retriever's Division roomed in the same building as their division office, in a private suite that consisted of a bedroom, bathroom, and sitting area. The living arrangements were the same for the other divisions across the Agency. Some of his weak-minded comrades claimed it made the division seem more like a family. He felt it made the division feel more like a prison. But he was dead anyway, and there was nowhere to go but Earth, and that place was a real mess, so a cell was good enough for him.

  He turned the last corner before his private rooms, intent on taking a shower and relaxing with a good book, he preferred Chinese literary classics like Sun Tzu's “The Art of War,” when he spotted a small figure camping out by his door. He sighed in irritation and headed straight for the brat, who was leaning with his back against his door, knees drawn up to his chest. Darren was determined to send the kid hiking so that he could actually enjoy his free time before it was back to the grindstone.

  "You must be lost. Your rooms are that way,” Darren said with a chilly voice and an emphatically-pointing finger.

  The sweet smile that broke out on Tanner's face was as inexplicable as it was unexpected. The brat never reacted the way Darren expected him to. Harsh words produced endearing grins and stony silences brought about fawning displays of loyalty. The kid was a puppy; no matter how many times it was kicked, just kept coming back to lick its master's hand.

  Now, that was an interesting metaphor. A vision of Tanner in a dog collar, tied up to his bed, flashed in Darren's mind. Where the hell had that come from?

  His mental turmoil caused his next words to be harsher than he originally intended.

  "I'd like to spend some of my free time alone. You know, that strange event when there are no people around to drone on and on about nonsensical subjects that rot a person's brain."

  Tanner hopped to his small sneakered feet, and for one stunned moment Darren thought his words had been understood and heeded. He really would need to lie down now, before he collapsed from shock.

  "You don't really want to be alone. It's a full moon tonight."

  "What?” The sincere expression on the brat's face said that he viewed his argument as logical and irrefutable. Darren had no freaking idea what effect the phase of the moon was supposed to have on his desire for company. Before he could voice his astonished confusion, the kid was barreling on with more absurd words.

  "I know the whole ‘untouchable bastard’ persona usually works for you, but I'm not buying it. Besides, I'm not like most people. You really don't want to push me away."

  Darren didn't know what stunned him more, the fact that the brat could curse with his full, pink lips and it didn't sound absurd, or the cockiness he displayed in asserting that he was the exception to Darren's ‘people are too much trouble’ rule. All these ramblings were flushed down the toilet of his mind as his eyes fixed on the juicy lips of the boy before him.

  Tanner had barely broken five feet before dying, while Darren had grown to his full height of six foot one. The disparity in their sizes placed the top of the kid's shaggy blond head even with Darren's collarbone. The brat had to crane his neck just to look his senior partner in the eye, which he did regularly, despite the pain it undoubtedly produced. Darren's fingers twitched with the urge to massage that fragile column and bring pleasure to the keyed-up youth who stood defiantly before him.

  Tanner inched slowly closer, like a man trying to tame a wild beast before it lunged for his jugular. When there was only a hand's width between them, Tanner stopped and tilted his face up toward Darren, who was drinking in the sight of flushed skin like it was ambrosia. A small, wet tongue peeked out of Tanner's mouth to moisten a mesmerizing pair of plump, succulent lips.

  Darren wanted so much so quickly. He wanted to shove the nubile body before him up against the door and possess that mouth until his raging thirst was satisfied. He wanted to fuck that clever mouth with his tongue and suckle the sweet bend in his body where the neck and shoulder met. He could taste the salty skin underneath his teeth already, imagine nipping that unblemished flesh and leaving a mark.

  Snap the fuck out of it Cox, his inner voice berated ruthlessly. You're not into inexperienced brats, especially male ones. Get rid of him before his hopes get raised that there might be a chance for friendship between you.

  "Wrong on both accoun
ts, pest. I don't give a shit about the moon and I think my golden rule about keeping away from people very much applies to you. Now get lost before I have to report you to the Chief for harassment."

  Tanner took a step back from his position nearly flush against Darren, and his angelic eyes brightened with pain while his delicate lips quivered. Darren had never even seen the optimistic teenager hold a frown for longer than a minute, forget actually shedding tears. When the first fat drop rimmed his exotically-tilted eyes and plopped over the side to travel down his golden, peach-toned cheek, Darren nearly came apart with self-hatred.

  What kind of bastard makes the poster boy for Prozac cry? he thought with disgust. He ignored the other voice in his mind that cheered this was what he wanted. He had finally cracked through the shell of armor that his usual insults bounced off of without leaving so much as a chink. Any moment the brat would retreat from his sight, and soon after that he would start devising reasons for them to not be alone together...

  Darren's body responded without his permission. His steel-muscled arms clamped around the slender body of his partner in a vise grip that drew the shorter man up against his firm body. Tanner gasped with surprise, and his tears were forgotten in the face of his very large, very male partner bringing their bodies into full shoulder to foot contact. One callous-roughened hand threaded through the baby fine, bleached blond strands that hung around Tanner's head, falling into his eyes. That same hand traveled around to palm an unbelievably soft cheek, while Darren's other arm continued to keep the young body immobilized against every one of the screaming nerves that were overpowering his sense of self-preservation.

  He gently wiped away the salty moisture on the silken skin beneath his thumb, and marveled at the unparalleled texture. During his years on Earth he had been paid well to deliver death on time and without evidence, and he had reveled in the luxuries such a lack of conscience could afford. His body had been draped in silk, soaked in massage oils, and pampered to the point of embarrassment, but he had never experienced anything as stunning as the sleek-limbed body that was frozen in amazement within the circle of his arms.

  When he realized he craved that drop of fluid in his mouth more than he wanted anything else, Darren knew he was in trouble. Tanner's lips were parted in surprise, and he had nuzzled his face into the large palm that was holding him in its grasp. His breathing was coming in accelerated gasps that caused his chest to brush against Darren's with each inhalation.

  It was all too much. Darren's senses were screaming with stimulation too painful to ignore. Every logical thought in his brain was aborted, and his thinking faculties were rerouted to the hardness in his pants that was growing larger with each tantalizing rub of the small, pebbled nipples that brushed his chest.

  He had to have that mouth. Nothing mattered beyond that.

  "Darren?” His brat's voice was husky with a need Tanner was just beginning to understand. The sound of it caused a swelling ache in Darren groin that was on its way to dominating all of his senses.

  Tanner's eyes widened and then closed as he sighed into the mouth that had suddenly taken possession of his own. Darren's dark eyes remained open, watching the desire melt Tanner's features into enraptured bliss. It had been a long time since he had kissed a woman, and he had never kissed a man before, but the mechanics of this carnal act were unchanged, no matter the sex of the person involved. He licked at the swollen lips offered to him, tracing their seam with his tongue before diving inside and swallowing the whimper that tried to escape Tanner.

  He did not remember kissing ever being this hot, this uninhibited. He bit down on Tanner's full bottom lip, enjoying the way the powerful sensation made the body in his arms squirm against his hardening flesh in an uncontrolled spasm of need.

  The realization that he could have sex at that moment began to dawn on him. He could unlock his apartment door, drag the brat inside, and have Tanner naked and screaming his name in under five minutes. The surprising revelation was that he wanted that so badly.

  Tanner gasped in shock when he was shoved away by the arms that had cradled him snugly only moments before. He banged against the wooden door of Darren's suite and grunted from the force of the unexpected fall. Sliding down until his weight was braced on his thighs, he forced his head back until the base of his skull nearly touched his shoulders in an attempt to make eye contact with the man that had just dropped a psychological bucket of ice water on him.

  Darren's opaque brown eyes were heavy-lidded with searing heat as he drew in deep breaths that expanded his impressive chest even wider. His toned body was tensed beneath the cut of his expensive dress pants and shirt. His hands were clenched into fists that could easily punch a hole through the door at Tanner's back, and the thin set of his full, sensual lips broadcast his anger at having lost control of his flawlessly obedient body.

  And all they had done was make out for approximately two minutes.

  "You are not a child and you do not need my comfort, but you will need to see the department physician if you continue to seek me out after business hours."

  Darren's voice was strained, like his vocal cords were stretched tight enough to rip. His words were vehement, despite the wavering that could not be entirely masked. He knew it was clear that he was trying hard to be harsh and unaffected by his maltreatment of the youth sprawled before him, but it was costing him. “Now, move the hell out of my way."

  Tanner slowly rebalanced his weight and climbed to his feet in as elegant a manner as possible. Instead of crumbling into a fresh batch of tears, he offered a serene, almost transcendent smile to Darren, and gallantly stood to the side of the door that had just sparred with him.

  "I'll see you in the morning, partner. Bright and early. The Ghostbusters ride at dawn."

  Tanner practically skipped his way down the hall to his own private quarters without glancing back to see the confused expression on Darren's face. Darren felt like he had just lost a bet without knowing what the stakes were to begin with.

  What the hell had just happened?

  * * * *

  Tanner's morning routine never varied. He figured there was no need to mess with perfection.

  He rose with his alarm blaring whatever radio station he preferred that week; he loved many different types of music, and could not listen to CDs because he tired so quickly of the same songs. This week his selection was an American oldies station that defined ‘old’ as seventies and early eighties. It was mellow music, devoid of the anger and drama found in the lyrics of modern punk rock or hardcore metal. He didn't need anything else pulling his emotions from highs to lows.

  He thought of his sullen partner as he entered stage two of his morning ritual, which consisted of cooking his favorite fatty breakfast foods and brewing the blackest, strongest coffee a bean could produce. Since he was dead, and able to finally enjoy it, he had no qualms about indulging in an artery clogging, grease-drenched, heart-stopping caffeinated good time. You usually only died once after all, unless you were a particularly unlucky bastard.

  Darren Cox approached his afterlife with opposing view. He seemed determined to drain every hint of amusement from their new lifestyle, and live like those zombies the undead were always portrayed as.

  Tanner snickered as he pictured Darren with a blank expression, glazed-over white eyes, spittle dripping from his slack mouth. He could see Darren lumbering along with his arms straight out in front of him, just begging to be tripped.

  The sound of his percolator finishing broke into his entertaining imaginings and he poured his addictive syrup into his favorite mug, one with a cute fuzzy bunny mouthing off to the populace in general. The bunny reminded him of the person he used to see in the mirror, back when he cared about looking at his face because something might change. He appeared delicate and harmless on the outside, but inside he guarded a secret that would turn his straight and narrow partner away in disgust. It was something worse than desiring carnal relations with the impervious Retriever. Far wo
rse than that...

  Tanner shook his shaggy blond head and finished gulping down his defibrillator in order to take a quick cold shower. He didn't dare take a warm one, because then he was tempted to linger, and imagine strong, broad hands running over his sensitive flesh. He preferred to masturbate in bed before going to sleep, because the oblivion that immediately followed his release held his personal critic at bay.

  He was an optimistic person by nature, even after everything he had faced in life and beyond, and he often used his easygoing prankster image to glide through awkward situations that might be painful or humiliating without such a shield to protect his already damaged heart. He was also intelligent enough to figure out Darren Cox was as straight and unflinching as any soldier cast in metal. His world view was uncompromising, and unforgiving of those he deemed idiots, slackers, or just plain misfits.

  And yet he had seemed truly concerned when his words caused real pain. He had even broken one of his ten commandments, thou shalt not touch, to embrace Tanner and offer the small comfort his iron-forged soul could produce. Then that comfort had erupted into unquenchable flames that nearly consumed them both whole.

  Tanner flashed a guilty smile as he toweled himself dry and went searching in his walk-in closet for another pair of loose jeans and a shapeless top. His feelings had not really been hurt by the words that were tossed at him like a dagger by his senior partner. Darren had said far worse to him in passing at the office, in the hallway, basically whenever he was in stalker mode. Those tears were manufactured in an attempt to draw some kind of emotion from Mr. Freeze. He had never tried that tactic before on the living ice sculpture, and hadn't really expected it to work. More degrading words about what a baby he was for showing such weak emotions was the scenario he had been prepared to face. He never expected to be taken into those strong arms, to feel the muscles bunch and flex as they protected him.

  It was the most erotic, and yet touching, experience Tanner had among his memories, and they hadn't done more than kiss. There had been no groping, though he certainly had wanted to. It was torture to wrap his arms around that solid waist and not allow his hands to drop a few inches until they were wrapped around a temptingly firm butt cheek, squeezing to test if every part of Darren was inflexible.