T. A. Chase

Poetry Train #74

Morning, everyone.

Here’s a little excerpt from Devil’s Addiction, a regency WIP that takes place shortly after Angel’s Evolution, but features two new characters. Shade does show up in DA. 🙂

Enjoy.

Excerpt:

He closed his eyes. Stickler would be destroyed. The baron’s fortune would be taken from him and his reputation torn away to reveal the evil living disguised as a man. The Devil wouldn’t refuse Beng the satisfaction of ruining a man’s life.

“I’m sorry.”

“Never apologize to me or anyone. It wasn’t your fault, boy. The ones responsible for this will be dealt with.” Beng leaned forward and touched the boy’s knee. The young man tensed. “Your rape will only be known by me and my doctor. No one else will know unless you chose to tell them.” He sat back.

He was good at keeping secrets. Devil knew he had more than enough of his own. What was one more to add to the load?

“How do you know Will?”

Beng wasn’t surprised Darius didn’t recognize him. He’d changed a great deal since he left. “I used to live on my father’s estate next to yours in Wiltshire.”
“You’re the earl’s bastard son.” Darius relaxed a little.

“Yes, though back then I was known as Bertram instead of Beng.” For the most part, he had good memories of those days.

“You left when you were sixteen. Why?”

“I realized my mother’s name for me was truer than my father’s. The devil living inside my soul made me want things I shouldn’t.” Beng shrugged. “It was easier to run away than to stay and suffer for them.”

“I see.”

Beng knew Darius didn’t have any idea what he was talking about. Which was fine. He didn’t feel any need to unburden his soul to the boy. His preferences weren’t important to the achievement of his goal. He wanted to get Darius back to Will before too long. It was hard to ignore the voice in his head, telling him that Darius needed guidance. He shook his head. Whatever guidance the boy got wouldn’t be from him. He was no one’s guardian angel.

The carriage stopped and Beng was happy to be home. He jumped out, letting the groom help Darius from the vehicle. Marsden waited at the door.

“A hot bath is waiting, sir.” Marsden accepted Beng’s hat and gloves. “As soon as the doctor arrives, I’ll take him to the young master’s room.”

“Thank you, Marsden.” He turned to see Darius hovering just inside the door. “This is Marsden. He’ll escort you to your room and if you need or want anything, ask him.”

“Yes, my lord.” Darius’s eyes stayed focused on the floor.

“I have some messages that must be delivered tonight. I’ll leave them on my desk in the study, and then I’ll be up to take my bath.” He went to his study.

“Certainly, sir.” Marsden’s voice followed him.

He shut the door behind him, closing out the rest of the world and the enticing face of his best friend’s younger brother. Even bruised and skinny, Darius was beautiful. Deep brown curls framed a perfect face without blemish except for bruises. Plump lips begged for a kiss. Upturned nose and wide golden brown eyes would be haunting Beng’s dreams that night, if he could sleep. He hadn’t allowed himself to look at Darius’s body. It would have led to worse dreams and emotions he fought to suppress.

Sitting at his desk, he reached for a pen and ink. He stared down at the blank paper he’d retrieved from a drawer. Beng didn’t want Will rushing over as soon as he read the note. Darius needed time to adjust before he was thrown into the arms of his family.


Will,

Encouraging news. I’ll present myself at your home at ten with information.

Beng


He sealed and addressed it. The second message was to Shade.


Shade,

Find out all information pertaining to Stickler. He must be destroyed.

Beng

Sealed, addressed and added to the pile. Shade would understand and bring him what he needed to crush Stickler. He looked over some papers Marsden left on his desk. His businesses were flourishing. He made a note to stop by the warehouses and check in.

A half hour later, a knock interrupted his reading.

“Come in.”

Marsden slipped in and stood in front of the desk. “The doctor just left, sir.”

“Is the boy okay?”

“The young master will heal. He’s been beaten and starved. The doctor gave him a thorough examination. There was some damage and bleeding, but Doctor Jackson believes it will heal fine with time.” Marsden frowned. “What mental or emotional damage was caused, I’m not sure, sir.”

“Those types of wounds take far longer to heal.” Beng straightened his papers. “Did he eat and bathe?”

“Yes, sir. He’s sleeping now. Would you like a tray brought to your room?”

“No. I’ll wash and then go to bed. I have to be at Will’s at ten in the morning.” He headed for the door.

Marsden bowed. “Yes, sir.”

The servant watched the retreating back of his employer with narrowed eyes.
Beng had been in bed for only an hour or so when the door to his bedroom inched open. Moving only his head, he watched as Darius slid through the opening and then shut the door. He wondered what the boy was doing. Darius crept across the floor like a ghost, dressed in one of Beng’s unused nightshirts.

As Darius came closer, Beng closed his eyes. He kept his body relaxed, not wanting to frighten the boy. The young man stopped beside the bed and he could feel Darius staring down at him. His chest rose and fell evenly, mimicking deep sleep. The top blanket lifted and the bed dipped.

Bloody hell, Darius was getting in bed with him. The boy lay on the sheet covering Beng, using the blanket as his cover. Beng thanked whatever angels or demons were watching out for him because he didn’t think Darius would be able to handle finding out Beng was naked.

The younger man snuggled closer to him like he was searching for warmth and Beng was the source of all heat. A cold hand touched his arm for a second. He wondered if the fact that he didn’t move reassure Darius. Within minutes, steady breathing told Beng the boy had fallen asleep.


No good deed goes unpunished. Is that what you’re trying to tell me? He raised his eyes to the ceiling.

Darius muttered in his sleep, rolling over and flung one of his cold hands onto Beng’s chest.

What kind of inhuman torture is this? He started to inch away from the tempting body in bed with him. It had been years since he’d shared his bed with anyone, male or female. Darius moved with him, not wanting to give up his body heat.

He stopped, not willing to risk waking Darius up. His control frayed. If the boy woke up and he looked into those sleepy golden brown eyes, it might break. Giving my soul to the devil doesn’t mean I have to sin all the time. He’d been an upstanding citizen, for the most part, since he returned to London.

The night passed with Darius sleeping the sleep of an innocent and Beng cursing the devil, God and any other person he could think of to blame for his predicament.

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Poetry Train #73

I thought I’d share a scene from what will probably be the story I work on after the next Home book. 🙂 So it’s third in line on my list of Works in Progress…lol. It’s called Angel with a Dirty Face and I think it’s going to be very emotional…more along the lines of Angel’s Evolution. (in angst and everything.) I hope you enjoy it.

Excerpt:

“He’s gone.”

Baldwin couldn’t even act surprised at Marcia’s announcement. He had a feeling when he didn’t see or talk to Mackenzie for a couple days that the man had left. Resting his head against the window of his car, Baldwin stared out at the people walking through GVSU’s campus.

“Did he leave a note or anything?”

He pulled out his Tibetan prayer beads and started rubbing them through his fingers, trying to ease his worries away.

“Yes. It says that Jack wants Mac back.” Marcia sighed. “I’m sorry, Win.”

“It’s not your fault, Marcia honey. Jack was as much an addiction for Mackenzie as the drugs were. It’s only been six months. We shouldn’t have expected a miracle.”

Baldwin’s heart hurt. He understood addiction, having fought his own demons while traveling the world. He understood how the need pulled at you without mercy. You could be driven to the edge by wanting just one more hit of whatever your craving called for.

“What should we do?” Marcia’s voice caught on a sob.

He shrugged and realized she couldn’t see him. “Wait. Hope and prays he comes back on his own. If he doesn’t come home by the first of the year, I’ll go to find him.”

“That’s two months away, Win. I don’t want to wait that long. We could lose him for good this time.”

“Or we see what he decides.” He glanced at his watch. It was almost time for his class. Putting the beads away, he managed to get out of the car without dropping either the phone or his bag. He shut and locked the door, heading towards Mackinaw Hall. “I know it’s hard to stay away from him, sweetheart, but dragging him back here without his permission is just going to repeat the problem. He has to choose to come home and get better. All we can do is welcome him with open arms if he does return.”

“And if he doesn’t?”

The fear and pain in Marcia’s voice caused a little bit of anger at Mackenzie to race through Baldwin. Selfishness was another side-effect of addiction. Mackenzie wasn’t thinking about how his actions hurt Marcia. Baldwin skirted away from his own feelings. They weren’t important at the moment. He sat on a bench and let his shoulders slump.

“We go out to California and talk to him. We tell him how much we love him and that we don’t want him to destroy himself, but we let him make the decision on what to do. If he chooses Jack and the drugs, then we walk away because we can’t let his addiction destroy us as well.” He let go of his bag to scrub his hand over his face. “It’ll be the hardest thing either of us has ever done. It’ll break our hearts, but I’ve been where Mackenzie is, Marcia. I understand what’s driving him and I know that we can’t do it for him.”

Silence filled the phone line while Marcia thought about Baldwin’s advice. Her soft exhalation told Baldwin he’d won. Marcia would wait until the first of the year before rushing out to see her brother.

“I wish I could accept this all as easily as you do, Win. You’re so calm.”

His bitter laugh tore from him. “Calm? Why would you think I’m accepting of this, Marcia? I love Mackenzie, more than I have ever loved anyone in my life and he’s left me for a man who will hurt and use him. A man who doesn’t care anything about him.”

Tears welled in his eyes and he breathed deep to calm his racing heart. He was going to have to meditate tonight and figure out a compartment to put all his worry into so he could function in his every day life.

“I can’t let my worry and fear distract me from my own life. It might sound cold or unfeeling, but as much as I love Mackenzie, I can’t allow his addiction to become my obsession. I can’t do that anymore, Marcia. It’d kill me.”

“You’re right. Jim says the same thing about me.” Her voice dropped. “I’m scared, Win.”

“I know you are. I’m scared too, but remember, I’m only a phone call away or you can come see me. We can be scared together.” Another glance at his watch. “Shit. I have to go or I’ll be late for class. I’ll call you tonight when I get home. It might help for you to talk to someone who has been through what Mackenzie’s going through.”

“Thanks. I love you, Win and I know, deep down inside, Mac loves you as well. He’s just confused at the moment. Call me after ten.” Marcia hung up.

Baldwin closed his phone and tucked it in the side pocket of his bag. Standing, he made his way to his class. Yes, he knew Mackenzie loved him, but was what they were building together strong enough to combat the years of abuse/pleasure Mackenzie had gotten from Jack? Baldwin wasn’t sure that it was.

c.2008 copyrighted by T.A. Chase

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Poetry Train #68

I didn’t have time to write a new poem for you, so I thought I’d give you a glimpse of a fantasy novel I started a while back. It got put on the back burner as other stories grabbed my attention. The heroes have been calmly waiting their turn again. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get back to them soon. 🙂

It’s just the first part of Chapter One. I hope you enjoy it.

On Love’s Wings
By: T.A. Chase

Chapter One


“You’ll come with me.”

The pronouncement caused silence to fall over the room. Everyone turned to look at Miataga. The voice came from behind him and he turned with caution. What he saw standing there made him shiver and not all of it was from fear.

The body the voice belonged to was lean and muscular. Board shoulders tapered down to a slender waist. Washboard abs revealed by the skin tight uniform the other man wore. The man’s face was hidden by a mask allowing only his eyes to show. Those eyes were yellow and fierce like a hawk Miataga had seen when he was ten. He allowed his gaze to slide leisurely down the man’s body to when a small shield hung blocking his view of the man’s groin.

Resia, sitting at the table with him, jostled him and he realized everyone was waiting to see what he would do. Raising his eyes back to meet the man’s intense scrutiny, his own widened when he noticed the helmet the stranger was wearing. A pair of stylized wings wrapped their way around the man’s head. The tips met in the middle of his forehead where a gold beak connected with them.

Holy Mothers of the God, a Wing commander had claimed him. Now the shiver chasing down his spine was fear. For a second, his mouth formed the words to tell the man he wouldn’t go. Miataga caught a flicker of disappointment skitter through the unblinking gaze. It was the sign of humanness and the way the stranger stood, shoulders thrown back as if he expected Miataga to refuse him that made up Miataga’s mind.

Miataga didn’t usually make snap decisions, but he decided to go with the Commander. He held out his hand to allow the man to help him to his feet. “I’ll go with you, Commander.”

The tension in the room released like everyone had been holding their breath. Quiet conversation rose as they walked from the room. He fell in behind the stranger as they left the Loving House. He stopped outside and looked up at the building for a second. He had the strangest feeling he wouldn’t be coming back to the only home he had known.

“Are you still coming?” The question was soft and undemanding.

Miataga turned back to see the commander was standing a few feet from him. There was nothing in the man’s voice or body posture that told him the commander was going to force him to come.

“Yes. I was saying good-bye.” He moved down to join the other man.

“Why?” The commander glided towards the Wing’s barracks.

Following, Miataga tried not to gawk. He had never ventured out of the lower city of Spendler where the whores and slaves lived. His customers came to him and they would use one of the rooms at the Loving House. Without an escort, he wasn’t allowed to travel into the upper part of town where the soldiers and the politic leaders of Emmen lived. He shot a glance over at the commander striding next to him. What ranking did the stranger hold?

The skin-tight gold uniform told him nothing. There were no rank markings on the helmet where the commanders usually wore their stars with honor. They halted at a gate blocking the entrance to the barracks. Miataga became entranced by the gleaming and rippling gold of the commander’s uniform. It called to his hands to stroke. Before he thought of the consequences of touching a soldier without his permission, his hand trailed down the shoulder of the man standing in front of him. The warmth and smoothness of it shocked him. He hadn’t realized the weavers had created material that felt so much like human skin. A muffled sound came from the man when he rubbed his hand over the shoulder again.

“I’m sorry, Commander.” He dropped his hand and lowered his head.

“My name is Ari.” The commander’s voice was rough with desire and surprise laced through it.

“Commander Dosterta, I thought you had left for the evening.” A young soldier saluted to the golden man as they walked through the gate.

“I’m back to get Vikex, then we’ll be on leave for several weeks.” Returning the salute, Ari ignored the look of disgust the young soldier sent towards Miataga.

Miataga was used to those looks. Soldiers and political leaders had only one use for the whores down in the Loving Houses. Other than for sex, they didn’t socialize with each other and he liked it that way. The thin veneer of civilization hanging over the commanders couldn’t hide the wildness racing through their blood. It was part of the bonding between the commanders and their weapons.

The Emmenian armies’ specialized weapons were huge birds of prey that lived in the Westerly Mountains. The lowest ranking commanders bonded with falcons and hawks. The higher ranks were for the eagles. The Supreme Commander of the Emmenian army always bonded with the largest of the birds, the golden eagle.

Miataga’s eyes went wide at the thought. He threw a quick glance at the golden man beside him. He cast the thought away. The Supreme Commander would never get a whore from the lower city to service him.

“Forgive the boy. He hasn’t had good manners beaten into him yet.” Commander Dosterta’s voice was loud enough for the soldier to hear.

Miataga caught a glimpse of the soldier’s red face before he dropped his gaze again. “It’s all right.”

“It’s never right to treat anyone-be he whore, slave or the Supreme Commander-as if he were dirt beneath your feet.” Dosterta’s voice was cold.

Miataga shivered and he started to apologize again. A gentle hand on his arm stopped him.

“No more.” The slender fingers traced over his cool skin. “I gave you no time to grab your coat when we left your House. That was unforgivably cruel of me.”

Miataga shrugged. “I have no coat, Commander, so you would have delayed for no reason.”

The yellow eyes of the commander betrayed his shock. “No coat?”

“Whores are expected to stay at their House. We aren’t allowed to travel the city without an escort.” He was surprised the Commander didn’t know that.

“Paster,” the commander bellowed out.

A young man dressed in the browns and greens of an army courier materialized beside the commander. “Yes, sir?”

“I need a winter coat.” Dosterta glanced down at Miataga’s elegant slippers. “Also, a pair of boots. Bring them to Flight Field Eight.”

“Yes, sir.” Paster saluted and dashed away.

“We must walk a little further. I’ve nothing to keep you warm with except my own body. Would you allow me to put my arm around your shoulder?” Dosterta’s voice was polite and neutral.

Miataga was struck speechless. Who was this man that he would ask a whore’s permission before he touched him? He nodded and almost groaned as Dosterta’s arm slid around his shoulder and tucked him into the commander’s side. It wasn’t until the warmth invaded his body that Miataga realized how cold he was.

Winter was settling in around the country and the wind was bitter. His light silk shirt and cotton pants were no hindrance to the cold.

He sighed and snuggled closer to Dosterta. “Your uniform must keep you warm.”

“I’m used to temperatures colder than this. I was born high in the Easterly Mountains where winter comes early and leaves late.” Dosterta’s voice held a twinge of the rough accent Miataga had heard when he had serviced Easterly tradesmen.

“The Easterlies aren’t a part of Emmen. Why would you come here to serve in the army?” He asked though he knew he could be punished for it. Few people appreciated an intelligent whore.

“It was Vikex who called me here.” As Dosterta stopped and dropped his arm, Paster arrived.

“Sir, I brought a coat and boots. I took the liberty of bringing a pair of gloves and a scarf. If you plan on leaving on the wing, then he should be warm.” Paster nodded towards Miataga.

“Thank you, Paster. Inform the quartermaster to take it out of my pay. Now go back to bed, son. I’ll see you in a month or two.” Dosterta ordered the young man away.

Miataga watched the young courier raced away. When he brought his gaze back, he almost fell over at the sight of Dosterta kneeling on the ground in front of him.

“No, Commander. I can put my boots on myself.” He protested as Dosterta picked up his foot. He had to reach out and grab hold of the commander’s shoulders or he would have toppled over. A moan of pleasure ripped through him at the touch of the warm silky material.

A shudder ran down the spine of the commander. He wondered at that. None of the other men he had serviced ever enjoyed his touch. They were quick to get in and get it done. There was no build up and no enjoyment of it. He moaned again as the commander slipped off his slipper and ran a finger over the arch of his foot.

“Put your foot on my thigh while I unlace the boots.” Dosterta placed his foot on the thick muscles of his thighs.

Heat swelled over his foot and headed right to his groin. His cock hardened and began to throb. He had never gotten turned on by a man from just simply touching him. His fingers crept up to stroke the vulnerable neck left bare by the commander’s bowed head. He knew his fingertips were soft like a woman’s. He traced small circles and the commander sighed.

“I’d let you do that all day, but it’s cold and you need to be warm.” Dosterta tugged one boot on and laced it up. He quickly did the same with the other of Miataga’s boots. Standing, his eyes burned with desire and he leaned forward.

“I want to kiss you, Commander,” Miataga whispered. “Take off your mask, so I may touch your lips.”

Dosterta jerked away from him with a flare of fear in his eyes. Shaking his head, the commander moved a few feet from him. “Put on your coat and scarf. If you wish to wear the gloves, you may. I must call Vikex, so we may leave.”

Miataga wondered what had caused the fear in the commander’s eyes. If not for that flash, he would have thought Dosterta was disgusted by the thought of kissing him. Not many men wanted to kiss their whores. It was considered too intimate a gesture to waste on someone they paid for sex. He wound the scarf around his neck and tucked the ends in under the wool coat he slipped on. Both the scarf and coat were thick and warm. They were made from the hair of the mountain goats raised on the Easterly Mountains and imported by merchants to sell in Emmen. His coat and scarf had been dyed a golden color to match the commander’s uniform. Miataga stroked the soft material and thought about touching the commander’s skin. His cock surged to life and hardened. Looking up, he noticed Dosterta had moved off a little ways.

He jumped when the commander threw back his head and a wild cry burst forth. He shuddered as a fierce yearning ripped through him. A yearning to be free and to be able to fly the skies without having to submit to anyone. An answering cry came from the sky and he lifted his eyes to watch for the commander’s bond mate.

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