Chase Young looked down at his beloved Jack sprawled among the pale pink sheets, slumbering contentedly. The albino youth was exactly where he belonged; happy and sated and safe in his lover's bed. Chase stroked a few vibrant red hairs away from Jack's temple and kissed the moonstone skin there.
Jack was his.
His lover, his minion, his consort and soon to be his husband. Chase owned Jack body and soul.
Now it was a good time to deal with the fools who had dared question that fact.
Chase Young considered his options for a moment. An idea starting to form in his head. A wicked, deadly smirk tugged at one corner of his mouth. Gently, so as not to disturb Jack, the ancient warlord rolled out of bed and strode to one of the many magical wardrobes that littered his palace. One wouldn't find any portals into magical worlds, but they would find any item of clothing ever conceived in the minds of men or mortals.
Chase Young imagined what he wished to wear and began to dress.
Johnny Betty paused in the hall way as the lord of the manor approached her. Two tigers flanked Chase. The teenaged girl watched them warily. After one had taken a pot-shot at Matty, only to be nearly stomped to death by Phooka, she treated them with a healthy sense of mistrust. However, JB was a heterosexual female and she felt her eyes dragged back to Chase.
For some reason, the evil warlord was dressed in the manner of English-style riding; skin tight grey breaches, sleeveless white high-collared shirt, and gleaming knee high Jodhpur boots. Parts of Johnny Betty's anatomy, most of them in her lower half, did flip flops at the sight of all that masculine beauty displayed so shamelessly.
"You. Half-blood." Chase growled.
Half-formed fantasies died on the wing. In two words, Chase illustrated just how little he thought of the dark haired girl in front of him. It was stupid to drool anyway; Chase had Jack and even if he didn't, Johnny Betty certainly didn't have anything he wanted.
"You are Jack's bodyguard. He sleeps in my bedchamber. Make sure no one attempts to steal him again."
"I'm not Native American," JB said petulantly.
One black eyebrow arched elegantly.
"What?"
"You called me half-blood. I'm not Native American."
Chase gave her a long, deliberate look. It managed to convey that the dragon lord thought the termagant in front of him was so incredibly stupid she had hurtled so far away from the point she couldn't even wave hello to it. Much to her chagrin, Johnny Betty felt a humiliated blush tint her cheeks.
"Indeed." He murmured. "Go guard my Jack-Pet."
Phooka was enjoying a bath in one of the decorative pools on the main floor of Chase's stronghold. Since Matthias's near miss with an over-eager leopard, the fairy didn't let his young master out of his sight. Still stuck in his horse form, the fairy stood belly deep in the water. Matty, fully clothed, but still sopping wet was waist deep in the pool as well. The fair haired youth had found an antique ewer that could have paid for the purchase of a small country and was scooping up water and pouring it over the fairy's sleek sides.
". . . and the water should make you feel better; you should be able to get back to your regular shape-shifting self by tonight. And when you do, baby, I'm going to do the most obscene things to you . . ." The youth was murmuring.
"I had hoped to borrow Phooka while he was still a horse," Chase announced, appearing at the edge of the pool.
Matty gasped and huddled against Phooka's sleek black flank. The kelpie in horse form eyed Chase, one ear back and the other forward to indicate his skepticism.
"Oh, I think the outing would do you good, Phooka. There could be a very good meal in it for you."
Both ears flicked backwards for a moment, then Phooka bent his head around and nuzzled Matty's arm.
"No, Matthias won't be joining us." Chase said.
Phooka gave him a look of disbelief, then pinned his ears flat and lowered his head aggressively at the two tigers flanking Chase.
"The attempted attack earlier was a mistake. In my eagerness to be alone with Jack, I neglected to tell my warriors you were allowed free reign of the palace. It will not happen again."
Phooka swished his tail stubbornly, looking decidedly unconvinced.
The dragon lord sighed heavily.
"I've left the half-blood to guard Jack; Matty can join him and be safe. Does that meet with your approval?"
Phooka lifted his head and flicked his ears forward, signaling his agreement.
"Excellent," Chase purred.
The Land of Nowhere was not heavily populated. What animals were native to the region tended to be strangely mutated from the magical fallout that emanated from Chase's lair and avoided contact with the castle. Thus, there was no one to be surprised when the lord of the land emerged from his stronghold astride a fine black horse.
It was the kind of stallion most equestrians would gladly sell their soul for, and throw in the souls of their wife and children to boot. Perfectly formed muscles gleamed under satiny black hair. A silky black mane cascaded down past the slope of the horse's shoulder, imbued with a slight natural curl. The horse's tail actually dragged the ground slightly.
Or at least it would have had the beast been walking.
The fine steed lunged forward in short hops, rearing slightly with every stride. Even Chase Young, with all of his supernatural grace and skill, wrestled with the reins, struggling to keep the horse under control.
Phooka's body language said nothing about what was going on in his mind, but Chase could practically feel the thoughts emanating from the fairy's head.
Just because I said you could ride me doesn't mean I'll make it easy for you.
Chase couldn't resist the straight line.
"You reacted with much that same brio and panache the last time I rode you, Phooka. Though, if memory serves, you weren't a horse then."
Slightly foxy ears disappeared into the silken mane as Phooka flattened his ears in pure hatred. With the scream of an enraged stallion, the fairy charged to the end of the ledge in front of Chase's lair and leapt into the void.
Security had been tightened at the Spicer mansion. No less than four in men in dark suits with absolutely no sense of humor were stationed around the grounds. They watched with surprise as a beautiful Chinese man came cantering up the long drive on an equally beautiful black horse.
The young man rode with effortless grace; his movements so in tune with his mount's that it was difficult to tell where one left off and the other began. The horse cantered with just enough lift and bounce to his steps to accentuate the action, but not so much that it looked forced.
The image of the two of them cantering by would make a top level dressage judge fall to his knees and weep because he'd never, ever see anything so beautiful again.
The picture of perfect union between man and horse was only ruined by the black stallion's constant champing of the bit, resulting in globs of foamy slobber that dripped from the animal's mouth and splattered onto the well-kept grass.
The rider ignored this, bringing the animal to a halt in front of the clutch of guards.
"I am here to see the Spicers." He told the men.
"Do you have an appointment?" One man asked. "The Spicers are only receiving visitors by appointment at the moment."
"They will see me," Chase said. "Tell them Chase Young is here to discuss their son."
The man stepped backwards and spoke into a small bud on the wire of the earpiece snugged into his ear.
"Is that horse okay?" Another guard asked.
Phooka was gagging loudly, trying to force the bit out of his mouth with his tongue.
"He's fine," Chase growled, jerking sharply on the reins. "He is simply unaccustomed to the wearing a bit."
The first speaker returned, having received further instruction from inside through his earpiece.
"Sir? The Spicers will see you. Please follow me."
Chase dismounted smoothly and handed the reins to the guard that had asked after Phooka's health.
"Don't eat too much." He instructed the fairy.
The guard stroked the horse's neck gently.
"What a beautiful animal." He murmured.
Behind them, Chase Young was escorted into the Spicer estate.
"I told you we shouldn't have sent him to that camp." Cecilia said, pouring herself a drink.
"No you didn't! You said if we were going to do something, we should do it right away!" Jonathon snapped.
The couple both opened their mouths to argue, but stopped abruptly when there was a rap on the door.
Jonathon quickly went to sit behind the gigantic mahogany desk that dominated the room. Cecilia stood by his side, the very picture of the supportive wife.
"Enter!" Jonathon called.
The door opened and his son's lover entered the room, escorted by a single guard. Mr. Spicer caught a quickly stifled gasp from his wife. For a split second, he felt like gasping himself.
Chase Young was beautiful.
The pictures on Jack's desk hadn't done him the slightest bit of justice. Chase's face was smooth and flawless and desperately, wickedly beautiful, as if it had been carved by a horny angel. His body was equally perfect, rippling with subtle control to flex and pull those perfect muscles. The tight riding habit he wore only clung to every curve or plane in a way that was practically obscene. Even more than his looks were an aura of wicked sexuality that seemed to surround Chase and fill the room with his presence.
Chase Young could commit sexual harassment by sitting quietly in the next room.
"Forgive my disheveled appearance," Chase purred, gesturing to his flawless riding habit. "My horse was being most fresh today."
"Ah . . . your horse?" Mr. Spicer stammered.
"Yes. I was out for a ride and thought it an excellent time to drop by and discuss my relationship with Jack."
"Jack's missing," Cecilia said, finally having remembered how to form words. "He was kidnapped from a . . . . youth camp in the States."
Chase deliberately turned his attention to Jack's mother.
"I'm afraid you are mistaken, Madam," the warlord said coldly. "Jack isn't missing. He's at home."
Cecilia Spicer suddenly felt as if someone had poured ice water down her spine, but she couldn't exactly say why.
"Jack isn't here!" Jonathon snorted.
"No." Again, Chase's tone was extremely deliberate. "He's at home. He assured me a few hours ago in between bouts of earth-shaking, mind shattering sex that he was exactly where he belonged: in my - our home, in our bed. And that is precisely where I mean to keep him."
"Whu- you took him from the camp! They said two of the counselors were killed! And one of the other kids is still missing!" Cecilia gasped. "You left that threat on the floor, too!"
Jonathon slowly put his hands flat to the green ink blotter on the desktop. Then, just as slowly, his fingers curled inwards. His nails tore ragged gouges through the thick green sponge-like material.
"Who the hell," he growled furiously, "do you think you are? Where do you get off thinking you can come into this house, corrupt my son, and threaten us because we saw fit to fix the mess you turned him into?!"
Chase raised one elegant eyebrow, smirking.
"I," He said calmly. "Am Chase Young. And your son is brilliant and beautiful and has not a single flaw, so do not dare speak to me of his 'corruption'. I could have my choice of any person in the world, but I have chosen Jack Spicer. He will be forever adored and protected in my keeping. I allowed him to return to this house to retrieve a few of his things and he was drugged, injured, and handed over to a group of religious fanatics who nearly shattered his finger trying to remove his engagement ring." The warlord's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"And in case it has eluded your feeble grasp, I do as I see fit. If my Jack would be better off without his meddlesome parents who seek to harm him and steal from him, then your lives will be over."
Cecilia went very pale. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered how this Chase Young had known about her casual search for valuables in Jack's laboratory.
Jonathon surged to his feet and slammed his fists down on his desk. "All your talk of 'forever' -- bah! You're a filthy pervert, preying on young men who are just old enough to be functional but too young to know to be afraid of you! You're going to use him up and then throw him aside and leave us waiting here to say 'We Told You So'! I'm not having it!"
Reaching out, he picked up the receiver of the cordless phone on his desk.
Cecilia gasped and clung to his arm. "Jonathon! What are you doing?"
"I'm calling in the police! They'll keep this piece of trash detained while they go find our son and get him back where he belongs! Just because those shepherds failed to keep Jack under control doesn't mean he's a lost cause! Of course they couldn't keep him out of trouble! He's a Spicer! He isn't a sheep! He's--"
The phone unit on the desk abruptly burst into flames and melted.
The receiver in Jonathon's hand followed a moment later.
Both Spicers leapt back in alarm, staring in shock.
The smugness in Chase's grin was almost palatable.
"I did not believe you truly understood the situation." He chuckled. Abruptly, the shadows in the room deepened and lengthened, practically swallowing the artificial light. They appeared to cluster and dance around Chase Young, his eyes glowing an evil yellow.
"I've no idea where Jack got his instinct for the supernatural with parents like you. You couldn't be more mundane. Jack would have spotted me for what I was the instant I walked through the door. Perhaps even sooner. If I were the only one affected by this, the two of you would already be dead. But I love my Jack-Pet and I know he does love you, so I'm giving you one last chance to live. If you choose to throw it away . . . . My Jack is very pragmatic about these things."
Jonathan gaped in horror at the ruined slag of plastic and metal on his desk, and then at the man still seated in the chair opposite him.
"What are you?" he whispered, unable to speak louder. It was an instinctive reaction: Never speak up when there are monsters around. It'll make them easier to find you and eat you.
Cecilia clung to her husband, too terrified to speak.
Chase grinned, showing off his fangs.
"I am many things. I am a warrior, a sorcerer, a dragon, a monster, a genius of wide renown and soon I'll be your son-in-law. If you respect Jack's choice to be with me, his ability to choose for himself, and the seriousness of our relationship, it's possible you might live to see the day we are joined in matrimony. If you continue to think of him as 'corrupted' or 'a mess'. . . ."
Chase's human formed bulged obscenely, then tore away like a cheap Halloween costume, revealing his dragon form, clothed only in shadow and whispers.
"The authorities will never find enough of you to consider you anything more than missing."
Jonathan's knees gave out. He wondered if he should consider himself lucky or unlucky that his heart didn't give out.
As he collapsed into his chair, staring in numb trauma at the beast speaking to him, his wife collapsed to the floor in a faint.
"My... my son..." he croaked through cotton-dry lips and tongue."He... does he...?"
"Know?" the dragon-demon purred. "Oh, yes. He does know. In fact, this form is as pleasing to him as the other -- both aesthetically and physically." The dragon laughed. "Oh, the look on your face! Yes, Jonathan Spicer, I did mean sexually. Jack loves to be rutted by me when I wear this form."
Helplessly, Jonathan bent forward as he puked all over his expensive trousers, office chair, and marble floor.
Chase laughed again, thoroughly delighted.
"How did Jack ever spring from anything as spineless and stupid as you? Are you certain he's your son at all?"
The double doors to the office swung open and the black horse paced into the room, blood dripping from his muzzle.
Half way across the room his form shifted twisted, and there was a handsome black haired man in the room.
"How did you find the bodyguards?" Chase asked.
"Too lean. A nice marbling of fat really adds to the flavor, y'know? Oh, the Spicers are still alive." Phooka stated this as casually as someone would observe that it was raining outside.
Jonathan lunged backwards from the double-horror in the room, and only succeeded in sending his chair toppling backward, with himself spilling out of it to land on his unconscious wife.
He heard the dark, chilling laughter of bullies and realized, to his horror, that he was about to cry.
"So, Mr. Spicer . . .have we learned our lesson about treating our son like an adult and not like a badly behaved horse that needs to be sent away for training?" Chase asked, lifting his head slightly to peer as the quivering pile of humanity that was the Spicers.
The dragon-demon paced closer, glowering down at the shaking man.
"Jack will live with me now. He will remain at my side, in my home. If he chooses to return here, which I doubt he will, it will only be to visit you and he will be accompanied by his bodyguard. If any word reaches my ears about any more shameful behavior on your part, I will make it very, very clear how disappointed I am."
Abruptly, the dragon form flashed like a strobe light and the handsome, sexy human form of Chase Young was back.
"Do you understand the situation now?"
Some small remnant of Jonathan Spicer's pride reared up and prepared to spit acid in the beast's face.
"Y-Yes," he quavered his tone forlorn and despairing as that small remnant died before it could complete its self-imposed mission.
A cold, mocking smile. "Excellent. I'm glad we've had this little chat. Do be certain to impress upon your wife the seriousness of the situation? If nothing else, you may tell her that not only am I the wealthiest man on the planet... but I can very easily see to it that she spends the rest of her life a penniless beggar woman; so destitute that not even a homeless shelter will take her in."
A tiny, tiny fraction of Jonathon's sentient thoughts admired Chase Young's ability to know precisely where to hit where it would hurt the most.
"Fine," he said quietly. "I'll tell her. Just... go. Please."
A mean grin twisted Chase's features.
"Very well, Dad. I will take my leave of you now. You'll receive an invitation to the wedding, but please don't assume attendance is compulsory."
The ancient warlord turned to look at Phooka.
"Don't even think about it, Mr. 'I don't know what reins are for.' My jaw's going to be sore for hours after you were yanking on me like that. You can teleport your happy ass home."
Too delighted with the terror he had wrought on Jack's parents, Chase could do little more than laugh. He did just that, Phooka tagging along on the magical currents.
A wide grin on his face, Chase materialized in his own bedroom. Phooka slipped into reality beside him a heartbeat later. The dragon lord turned to his bed, expecting to treat his eyes with the beautiful sight of Jack sleeping peacefully.
Instead, he saw Jack and Matty twined together in the same bed he and Jack slept in.
Chase's golden eyes went wide.
"Oh shit," Jack muttered. "This isn't what it looks like."
The mountain keep shook with the long drawn out roar of rage and pain.