Revo's Property Read online

  “You know what I am?” The man blurted, sounding surprised He wriggled a little and Revo released his wrists, but kept him trapped with his arms and body. The man turned slowly, looked up at him fearlessly, although he trembled a little. Revo couldn’t blame him. Most men, mortal or otherwise, took one look at him and decided running away was better than trying to take him on.

  “Only a few things in the world can do something like this.”

  “I am not a thing. I have a name. It’s Ezra and I’m a living breathing being who has much right to live in this fucked-up world as you.” The man jabbed a finger into his chest, right over the Hellhounds patch sewn into his jacket.

  Not a lot of folks had the guts to mess with any of them, and Ezra’s fearlessness made it hard for Revo to look away, or for that matter, leave him alone. Hell, Ezra only made the bulge in his jeans worse.

  “You’re a fucking incubus and you’ve been feeding on the people in Hellhound territory. You know what we do to outsiders who hurt what’s ours?”

  Ezra swallowed, biting his bottom lip, and then nodded. “You guys don’t just kill them, but you make the killing slow and good to send a message. Some folks say the hounds have acquired the taste of human flesh.”

  Quite a stretch of imagination, but Revo didn’t bother correcting him. The Hellhounds did whatever they needed to protect their territory from supernatural and human reavers and poachers. That kind of sentence Ezra mentioned had only been reserved for the worse though, but Revo needed Ezra scared enough not to repeat his mistakes. Killing him was the last thing on Revo’s mind.

  “I need to eat like everyone else,” Ezra finally whispered, dropping his gaze.

  Revo lifted his chin, idly began to thumb the slight stubble there, before pressing down on Ezra’s bottom lip. Revo expected Ezra to fight back, maybe bite down his finger like a rabid animal. Instead he opened his tempting cupid-shaped mouth. Ezra started nibbling on the tip at first, before his heat enveloped Revo’s finger right to his knuckle, all the while looking at him with strange, expressive, green cat-like eyes.

  Hard not to imagine Ezra on his knees, putting his talented mouth to better use, to see his cat-like tongue darting back and forth on Revo’s length, before Revo tugged his hair and took control. So easy to push Ezra on the table, hear the fabric of his clothes and jeans rip so Revo could finally feast. Take in every delicious inch of his prize with his gaze before his hands did their work.

  Shit. Only a few minutes with Ezra and Revo had nearly fallen under the incubus’ damn spell. If Revo let this charade go any further, he’d be the one dancing on Ezra’s puppet strings. Revo didn’t play well to the tune of someone else’s music because each Hellhound lived by their own code.

  To regain his control, Revo replaced lust with a familiar emotion. Anger. He let the rage wash over him, purify everything else. Ezra must have sensed the change, because he pulled his finger out. Revo growled at him.

  “Did you think tempting me would force me to let you go, you fucking parasite? You think your party tricks would work on someone like me?” Revo nearly gripped his wrists, but decided touching Ezra would tip the scales over again. He didn’t know how Ezra worked his abilities, but Revo bet physical contact played a huge part.

  Ezra’s face twisted. “I had to try. Can’t blame a man for trying, can you?”

  “You’d kill just so you could live? You figure your life is worth more than your victims then?”

  “Aren’t you the same?” Ezra spat back. “You don’t have the fucking right to lecture me.”

  Revo couldn’t help be impressed by Ezra’s stubborn insistence to live, when half of the world’s dwindling population considered a quick death a better alternative to a slow one.

  On his bad days, Revo woke up, wondering why the hell he even bothered. Revo chose this life. Knew riding with the Hellhounds was the only way he could live, but sometimes he got sick of the endless cycle of death, fucking, and violence. Sometimes a man needed something new and shiny to occupy his mind.

  Revo’s gaze settled on Ezra again. He saw past the fire in his green eyes, the delicate trace of veins beneath his smooth skin, and the pulse beating so strongly against his neck. Life, he didn’t want to extinguish and let go to waste. No. Revo wanted to taste Ezra’s pulse, feel it leaping to his lips.

  Decision made, Revo played his game. “I hold your life in my hands, Ezra. Me. I can say what I want. Do what I want. You broke our laws. It’s about time you pay up.”

  Panicked, Ezra clawed his long slender fingers into the thin material of Revo’s plain black tee. Like Revo predicted, he switched to pleas. “Please. I didn’t mean to hurt anyone.”

  Ezra’s gaze desperately searched for the sympathy and understanding Revo couldn’t give. Bad times bred hard men. Survivors. Revo and his brothers didn’t live this long because they showed mercy. He couldn’t just let Ezra go. Mace expected Revo to kill Ezra, so the only other way was to keep him.

  “Some of those folks you left behind are husks. Zombies. Unable to properly function and the only thing left on their minds is sex.”

  Genuine confusion showed on Ezra’s face. Made Revo wondered if Ezra was just that good an actor, or he made a mistake. Not that it mattered. His decision remained the same. “That’s—not the way it should happen.”

  “Nothing is the way we expect it to happen.”

  Ezra sagged against him, looking miserable and pathetic in his defeat. Revo easily caught his light frame. He hooked his fingers into the belt loops of Ezra’s faded jeans.

  “Do what you’re here to do then. That’s your job isn’t it? To hunt down the soulless incubus hunting in your territory?” Ezra accused.

  “Aw. Disappointed me right there. Thought you’d have more fight in you.” What the hell possessed him to say those words? Because Revo enjoyed Ezra’s lips twisting into a cruel sneer, the way defiance sparked in his eyes?

  “Go figure. You want your prey to give you some chase don’t you? I bet a big bad biker wolf like you gets off on that.” Ezra swallowed, eying his rock hard erection.

  Revo smirked. If Ezra thought he would be offended, then he made a mistake. He took a few steps back, glanced at his wristwatch, then back at Ezra staring at him, looking impossibly pale. “My name’s Revo. How about I give you a thirty second head start?”

  Ezra didn’t hesitate. He turned his back and ran, nearly stumbling over a few fallen bodies, but he picked himself back up again and shot out of the rickety door. Revo’s smirk widened when he heard the rumble of his bike outside.

  “What a smart soul-sucking fiend.” Revo took his time exiting the roadhouse, whistling a crude song under his breath.

  He had already thought of a hundred different ways to torment and tease Ezra once he got him back. Ezra might not be a stranger to pleasure, but Revo wasn’t daunted. Unlike most men, he’d be patient. Take his time. What Ezra didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. Revo didn’t intend to make him his toy. His beast recognized what Ezra was the moment he caught Ezra’s scent. Mate. Mine.

  Hell. Revo considered the in-built DNA all shifters carried that enabled them to instantly recognize their mate pure bullshit. Instant love wasn’t a concept most men like him believed in. Once outside the stinking roadhouse, Revo spat on the hard ground, and raised a hand to shield his eyes against the sun.

  His bike kicked up more dust as Ezra directed it back to the highway. Revo smirked, and began to take off his leather jacket and kick off his shoes. The sleek machine sputtered like a dying monster under Ezra’s direction. He’d tear out the throat of any poor bastard who touched his bike, but he supposed Ezra could be an exception.

  Watching Ezra’s slender back disappearing with his machine, Revo decided this wasn’t instant love. There was nothing soft or sentimental about what he felt for his mate. No. Stripped bare of all pretensions, all he’d been left with was the carnal and animal instinct to possess—to own Ezra, both body and soul. Fully nude now, Revo let his beast takeover. Fur rip
pled across his human skin. Bones popped. Landing gracefully on all fours, Revo raised his great gray head and let out a howl of challenge. The hunt was on.

  Chapter Three

  Ezra nearly let go of the handlebars of the bike when he heard the bone-chilling howl behind him. All the hairs in his back stood up. Heart hammering painfully against his chest, he desperately kicked at the pedals, urging the machine to go faster. The imposing piece of metal refused to listen, stubborn like its damn owner.

  “Run, damn you!”

  God. He needed to get the hell away from Revo. Put as much distance as possible between him and the crazy asshole.

  What kind of a name was Revo anyway? Oh, Ezra heard rumors of the VP and beta of the Hellhounds MC. None of them sounded pleasant, but none of them ever mentioned what Revo looked like. Certainly not a piece of walking man candy with the soul of a monster.

  It prickled at him the way Revo trapped him against the table. Sniffed at him like he was a juicy piece of meat, but damn, Ezra couldn’t deny Revo’s charm. Every inch of the inked and hulking werewolf biker screamed bad, wild, and dangerous. Revo could have easily wrapped his large scarred hands around his scrawny neck and never mind strangling him to death, he’d crush Ezra’s windpipe without much effort.

  Why didn’t he?

  “Certainly not what you’re thinking, stupid. He wants to hunt you down. The fucking sick bastard gets off on this,” Ezra muttered to himself.

  Fuck. Getting entangled in a mess with one of Wolf County’s protectors hadn’t been his intention. What he told Revo had only been the partial truth, because he knew werewolves could sniff out lies like a bloodhound.

  Ezra and his twin, Echo, always hunted in pairs. Conceived from a one-night stand between a mortal woman and an incubus father, Echo and he had been outsiders all their lives. No thriving community in the post-apocalyptic era—supernatural, mortal, or mixed, wanted them. They learned early to be scavengers. To survive and employ whatever deceitful means to survive, drifting from settlement to settlement and taking nibbles before moving on.

  There was a misconception they fed on lust and drained the life force of their victims, but that wasn’t true. They could control their hungers like vampires or shifters. Usually anyway. Somewhere along the way, Echo decided he was sick of living on scraps. He led him a merry chase all across the West Territories, the lands controlled by various shifter groups, from Kat Kountry to Wolf County, and if he didn’t catch up to him soon, Echo would wind up dead. Echo was his only living blood left, his only family.

  Hell, they shared a womb.

  His heart rate shot up when he caught sight of something huge and furry bounding right behind him through the bike’s mirrors. Revo.

  “Jesus Christ, is that even a wolf?” Ezra nearly choked on his words the closer Revo came. The freaking size of a horse, Revo was the largest wolf he’d ever seen. Hearing the scrap of teeth on the back of the bike once or twice, made Ezra jump. He floored the pedals, silently rejoicing when the bike purred to life.

  Revo let out a warning growl behind him, easily catching up to him without breaking a sweat.

  “Shit.” Ezra turned his head just in time to see an enormous monstrous shadow leaping at him. The impact sent both of them flying through the air. Ezra screamed. His back hit the cracked road, sending a bolt of pain down his spine, but he had worse problems. Fuck. Revo was heavy.

  Revo growled down at him, jaws snapping, showing Ezra impressive rows of teeth. Razor-sharp claws delicately settled on his chest and thighs. Ezra winced, expecting them to descend and rip his flesh any moment. He hesitantly opened his eyes to see intelligent amber eyes peering at him.

  No pain. No violence, just like what happened at the roadhouse.

  “What do you want from me?” Ezra managed to whisper, keeping still when Revo closed his mouth and sniffed at him again. “If this is some sick game, get on with it already.”

  Revo’s claws retracted. Fur disappeared and features reformed. Ezra had his fill of Revo not long ago, but the effect Revo had on him hadn’t faded one bit. Short, dark hair, a face nicked with slight stubble and tiny scars, and an intense golden gaze seared into his. The hunger there should have frightened any other sensible man, but logic flew out the window when the thin texture of his shirt touched the firm planes of Revo’s body.

  Ezra let out a sound, not one of protest, as Revo jerked his arms above his head. He should be struggling, fighting like an animal, not moaning like some bitch in heat. Ezra wanted his hands free, so he could rip away his shirt. Feel all that golden flesh layered with sweat, muscle and black ink colliding against his.

  “What are you doing to me? I should be the one casting the spell, not you,” Ezra whispered. Revo said nothing. Ezra didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what sort of images ran through his head.

  Ezra resorted to pleading. Not his best moment, but an incubus did what he could to survive. “Please.”

  “What exactly are you begging me for, Ezra?”

  Revo said his name, wrapped his lips around the syllables like it was something edible. Sensual. Erotic.

  “Please don’t kill me,” Ezra pleaded.

  “Killing you is the last thing I want to do.”

  “What do you intend to do with me then?”

  A smile appeared on the corner of Revo’s mouth. Damn. He really was a beautiful monster.

  “You’re the incubus. Why don’t you tell me?”

  Ezra tentatively reached for Revo’s aura. Like a child fumbling in the dark, Ezra grew terrified of what he would find. The truth he refused to acknowledge, but it lurked there nonetheless. Desperate want, mindless and vast, palpable it was almost painful.

  Fear dissipated at the absence of malice. There was no denying what Revo—a dangerous and natural born killer, a hard man who craved excitement and violence for kicks, but a man nonetheless—wanted.

  Desire fell on his area of expertise. It stumped Ezra why he only noticed the miniscule details now. The way the small rocks and gravel dug into his back, the heat of the sun bearing down on them, and the caress of desert wind blowing across their bodies like a warm caress.

  Tension rose between their bodies. The world narrowed its focus to the man above him. Droplets of Revo’s sweat dripped down his shirt. Ezra became more aware of Revo’s thick erection pressing against his belly and his own needy cock straining painfully against his jeans.

  His fingers itched to touch something. Anything.

  Was Ezra really going to let naked werewolf biker fuck him in the open road? What if a car drove by?

  Ezra wasn’t a prude by any means, but hadn’t done anything like this. He hated the fact he needed to feed on sex, but he enjoyed having a warm body against his because nothing in the world made him feel so alive. Most encounters always ended up in dark and secret corners, which sometimes made him feel like some dirty little secret. Tainted and unfit for daylight hours, yet Revo didn’t give a second thought about taking him in the open, as if he didn’t give a fuck about what the world thought.

  God. What a fucked up way of thinking, but Ezra was done second-guessing himself. Chasing after Echo without rest and worrying to death, he was tired. He needed this.

  Unable to help himself any longer, he began to reach for Revo’s length. He needed to feel Revo’s need in the flesh, to feed and sate his own hunger. Revo caught his fingers, the strength in them a reminder he could easily overpower Ezra. Easily hurt him for real, but Ezra knew he wouldn’t. A sliver of excitement crept down his spine.

  “I can smell your arousal, but let’s first get something straight,” Revo said.

  “What?” Ezra demanded.

  “I don’t get off fucking the unwilling. I want to hear it from your lips.”

  “My consent? You have it.”

  “That’s not what I want to hear.”

  Egoistic bastard. “I want you. Please fuck me? That good enough?”

  “Next time I can do without the snark, but it will do t
his time.”

  Chapter Four

  Revo leaned in close. He ran the bridge of his crooked nose up the column of Ezra’s throat. His tongue flicked out, catching his beaded sweat, tasting the salt of his skin. Every little thing he did sent jolts of electricity right to Ezra’s chest and groin. Fuck. Ezra squirmed, wanting to go fast, but Revo pinned both his hands above his head. He groaned.

  Revo nipped at his left earlobe, wrangling a moan from him. His breath was warm against Ezra’s neck. “I’m the one in control here, is that clear?”

  “Crystal.” Dominant werewolves and their damn obsession with control, but Ezra didn’t mind. Hell, he liked being submissive in the bedroom, but he would keep his guard up. Ezra wouldn’t just let some random stranger lead him to dark places without making sure he could back out anytime he wanted. Trusting anyone in Pre-Fall times equated to suicide.

  Ezra lost his train of thoughts when Revo did something no one had ever done before. The unexpected. He mashed his lips with his. All tongue and teeth and no finesse, grinding his body against his. Ezra froze as the fierce and sharp taste of Revo flooded into his mouth.

  Pre-Fall and Post-Fall, no one kissed an incubus on the mouth. Most men and women were only interested in his body and Ezra finally understood why. There was something terribly intimate about the gesture, a danger of being undone. Ezra responded, opening his mouth wider to let Revo’s prodding tongue in.

  Revo released his lips. Ezra panted, eyes wide. His heart beat so loudly against his chest he knew Revo could hear it. Keeping Ezra’s hands restrained with one hand, Revo used his other to furiously unbuckle his belt.

  “Wait. Please.”

  The word “please” did the trick. Revo paused, looking annoyed. “What the fuck, did you change your mind? I gave you a choice and there’s no turning back. Once I start, I won’t stop.”

  “No. I understand. Believe me, the last thing I want to do is stop. It’s just—can I ask why you did that? Kiss me?”