The Seahorse Who Loved the Wrong Lynx (13 page)

body. His mate was so gorgeous that for a moment there, Layton

forgot what he’d originally intended to do. Then his gaze fell on

Preston’s thick prick. A translucent drop of pre-cum beaded at the tip, drawing Layton in like a moth to a flame.

With no hesitation, Layton lowered his mouth over his mate’s

prick and took Preston all the way into his throat. Preston released a choked sound that seemed like a cross between a growl and an

honest-to-God whimper. Clearly, Preston had not expected Layton to

be any good at this. In truth, Layton had never sucked a cock before, but seahorses were naturally talented at sucking. It seemed like this particular skill would be very useful in the future.

He bobbed his head up and down Preston’s cock, the flavor of

Preston’s pre-cum a drug that hazed Layton’s already aroused senses.

He alternated lazy licks across the glans with long, rapid strokes,

using his connection with Preston to judge his mate’s response. When he felt Preston was close, he retreated, drawing it out, sucking lightly across the head, teasing without giving the final touch needed to bring Preston over. He felt incredibly powerful. He was controlling

Preston’s pleasure but at the same time offering it and opening

himself to Preston’s invasion. Layton distantly understood why

Preston enjoyed giving head so much and thought he might be

addicted to it, too.

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At one point, Preston’s control snapped. He threaded his fingers

through Layton’s hair, forcing his head down. Preston went with it,

surrendering to Preston’s domination. He closed his eyes, reveling in the sensation, taking in every emotion, scent, and taste with the greed only a mated shape-shifter could understand.

This time, when he sensed Preston’s orgasm approach, he didn’t

do anything to stop it. He wanted to taste Preston’s cum. No, he

needed it, like he needed air.

Moments later, his mate found his peak and pleasure flooded their

connection. Streams of hot spunk filled Layton’s mouth, the flavor

uniquely Preston’s. Layton almost came, too, and moaned as he drank

down every drop. At the last moment, he managed to keep his climax

in check. He yearned for Preston’s cock filling his ass, and nothing else would suffice.

To Layton’s satisfaction, his arousal fed Preston’s, and Preston’s

prick filled again. The lynx growled, that sound that made shivers of pleasure run down Layton’s spine. Before Layton knew what was

going on, Preston pushed him off and flipped him on all fours.

A quick, brisk search in the nightstand produced a tube of

lubricant. The sound of a snap and a squirt were his only warning, and then two slick fingers thrust inside his passage. Layton couldn’t

suppress a gasp his seahorse nature turned into a pop, and he pushed back against the invading digits. Preston crooked his fingers inside Layton, and sparks flew through Layton’s body as his mate hit his

prostate. He simply went wild, bucking against Preston, trying to get more.

Preston flipped him over on his back, and his gaze speared into

Layton’s soul. His touch grew gentler, almost too gentle. “Shhh,

lovely,” he crooned. “We don’t want to hurt the baby.”

With great effort, Layton quieted down. The baby would be fine.

Intellectually, he knew that. But in spite of this knowledge, he didn’t want to take even the slightest chance. Oh, he could not deny himself
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the pleasure of Preston’s touch, and there was no reason to. Even so, it wouldn’t hurt to be careful.

Of course, Preston made it very hard for Layton to keep to his

resolve. He scissored his fingers inside Layton, stretching Layton’s passage with excruciating care. Preston struggled to keep his body

relaxed, but it was a losing battle from the beginning. When Preston added another digit, the burn made Preston utter an honest-to-God

whimper.

Thankfully, Preston took pity on him. After a few more moments

of preparation, he retracted his fingers and slicked up his cock. The bulbous head of Preston’s thick prick nudged at Layton’s hole, and

then Preston slid into Layton with the same gentleness he’d used

earlier.

The desperation to couple Layton had felt earlier melted into pure

emotion. The slow rhythm turned what could have been fucking into

delicious making love. There was no other way of putting it. It was

slow, sensual, and oh so perfect. Preston’s cock stretched Layton to the limit, but they were a perfect fit. Their bodies seemed made for each other, and as Preston slid home over and over, Layton

experienced a sense of rightness mingled with a pleasure that went

beyond the carnal. They rocked together in perfect synch, as if they’d been lovers forever. For his part, Layton felt that he had belonged to Preston for his entire life. He just hadn’t known it. But now, Preston was inside his body, his mind, and his soul. There were no more

limits between them. And Layton felt so happy he could have wept.

Preston lowered his mouth over Layton’s neck and bit down.

Ecstasy washed over Layton, an almost-soothing wave that swept

away each and every one of Layton’s fears and concerns. He found

his peak at the same time Preston did, and their shared orgasm

swallowed them in an almost quiet, mind-numbing nirvana. There

was no way Layton could have imagined such pleasure before being

mated. But love, it seemed, changed everything, and Layton’s entire

sense of self was saturated with Preston’s love.

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They didn’t speak for the longest time. When the haze of the

orgasm started to dim, Preston briefly left the bed and brought back a washcloth. He wiped Layton down, and if his hands occasionally

touched Layton’s skin with no real reason, neither of them

commented on it.

At last, Preston abandoned the cloth on the floor and came back to

bed. He pressed a kiss to Layton’s flat stomach, where their baby was growing. “Get some sleep,” he said. “We still have a lot to do later.”

Layton nodded lazily. Somehow, in Preston’s arms, the idea of

spells and wicked Sidhe hunting them was almost laughable. In the

end, with Preston by his side, he could take the entire Sidhe nation and win.

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Chapter Six

Preston didn’t know why he woke up. There was no real reason,

no sound to have alerted him that something was wrong. But still, his eyes shot open and busily scanned the room. He was relieved when he

saw Layton still by his side, but that still didn’t explain what had startled him from his slumber.

Layton was awake as well.
“Something’s going on,”
Layton said through their bond.
“It’s in the air. I can feel it.”

Preston sensed it, too, a strange wrongness, almost like the day

when Layton had his car crash, but not quite. Layton slipped out of

the bed, but Preston grabbed his arm, shaking his head. He knew

Layton was completely capable of caring for himself, but if there was truly someone with ill intentions inside the house, the intruders must be well armed and dangerous. It was very risky to meet them head on.

Then again, remaining in the bedroom made Preston and his mate

sitting ducks. Preston released Layton’s arm, giving the seahorse a

look of warning. Layton just rolled his eyes and grabbed a pair of pants.
Good point.
If they were going to try to fight someone, it was better doing it without their bits hanging out, especially in Layton’s case.

Preston hastily pulled on some jeans, although he didn’t bother

with shirt or shoes. He had a feeling that he would not need them.

Unlike Layton, he fought best when he was in shifter form.

Once dressed, they slipped out of the room and into the hallway. It

was quiet. Too quiet. Usually, there was the slight hum of

conversation, the chatter coming from the servants, and the general

business of a lived-in house. Even if he took into account the idea that
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their family had left without them—which seemed like something

they would be inclined to do—there should still be other people

around. But Preston heard no one.

And yet there was a strange buzz over his senses, as if a fly were

continuously hovering close to his ear, refusing to leave him alone.

His skin crawled with the same odd awareness. “Magic,” Layton

whispered.

Preston nodded. “Stay behind me, all right? And don’t even think

about taking these guys on.”

He wasn’t afraid for himself, but he felt poorly prepared for taking care of his mate and son. He’d taken some classes on magical

creatures at the academy, but they had in no way prepared him for

such a confrontation.

There was no time for him to acknowledge his inadequacies,

though. They’d barely taken a couple of steps when the sound of

movement broke the silence. It was very slight, almost inaudible, that small disturbance in the air that always appeared when someone

moved. Perhaps Preston wouldn’t have even caught it had he not been

paying attention.

Layton and Preston both ducked behind an artistically placed

column just as a group of strikingly blond individuals appeared in the hallway downstairs. Were all Sidhe blond? So far, evidence pointed to this conclusion. Confusingly enough, there was another person with

them, a woman who moved differently, more sinuously. She

reminded Preston a bit of Sophia, their jellyfish sort-of-cousin who’d attacked and almost killed Alexis. The comparison did nothing to

improve his mood. She held a child’s hand, ushering him on as they

progressed through the house.

Preston frowned. Were they keeping the child prisoner? No, that

couldn’t be right. Why would someone bring a prisoner in a surprise

assault? Not only that, but there was something about the kid that

seemed off.

“We have to help him,”
Layton said through their bond.

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Preston shook his head.
“Look. Look at the way he holds himself.”

The boy’s spine was rigid and his stance arrogant. He walked with

certain, noiseless steps, completely integrated in the group of

intruders. When Preston tried to give the boy a closer look, he could swear the air blurred around him.

“It’s too risky,”
he told his mate.
“Come on. We have to go.”

“But, Father, Dad…We have to look for them.”

Preston was worried about his family as well. If it was true that

his mother was behind this, she would hunt his dads down. But

hopefully, they’d left to the meeting with the Sidhe, together with Layton’s parents. Honestly, Preston could not imagine something like this happening with Byron Cunningham in the house. Or at least, that was what Preston wanted to believe. As much as he wanted to look

for his family, the truth was that they were severely outnumbered.

Preston’s first priority was to take care of his mate and unborn child.

He pulled Layton back toward their bedroom. They didn’t go in,

though. Instead, they rushed past their quarters and down the

secondary staircase, built there for the use of service staff. Preston knew there must be other groups of Sidhe than the one he’d seen, but he’d bet money that those guys were the most powerful. And he had a

strong feeling that he knew who the child was.

Indeed, there were two guards watching the staircase. Between

him and Layton, they took care of the problem before the men in

question could raise the alarm. Preston had no clue what kind of locks would hold a Sidhe, so he didn’t bother with them. He just left the

unconscious Sidhe in the hallway and rushed toward the back exit of

the house.

As they ran, however, they found themselves facing a striking

sight. In the hallway that led toward the main exit, he found staff

literally frozen in place. A man was immobilized in the process of

reaching for his gun. A woman seemed to be trying to escape. Preston shared a look with his mate. They couldn’t just leave these people.

For all he knew, the Sidhe were planning to burn the building down.

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“Phone,” Layton said.

Of course.
Why hadn’t he thought about it? Preston hastily fumbled with his pockets and retrieved a tiny device. They ducked

toward a side room, intent on finding a more discreet spot for the call.

Halfway there, Preston sensed a deep feeling of familiarity, distant and cool. A female voice stopped them before they could leave. “I

would not go anywhere if I were you.”

Preston turned and was not surprised in the slightest when he saw

his mother standing in front of them. More terrifyingly, though, she had Nicolas in her hold. It was an image Preston had never thought he would see. His adoptive father was a warrior, and watching him

frozen, motionless in a state of obvious anger, shook Preston more

than his mother’s presence. It didn’t help that she had a knife to

Nicolas’s throat. One of Nicolas’s own knives, if Preston wasn’t

mistaken.

On instinct, Preston pushed Layton behind himself. “What do you

want?” he asked the woman who’d given birth to him.

“Oh, nothing.” She smiled, but it came out as an unpleasant

grimace. “Just planning to take back what’s mine.”