Page 13 of Keeper of All

Fuck. Mao stared intently, his mind whirring. Could there some sort of transfer power process going on? Because that was something else Mao remembered feeling. An energetic blast of magic that seemed to go… go…

Darnation!

Where did it go? Mao felt it in the bunker, and it had clearly affected his mate. We can worry about the state of his hands and face when he’s awake.

When in doubt, take care of the basics—Mao remembered Mom telling him that from when he was a small boy. He’d make some food, and possibly the smell of that might encourage his mate back into the land of the living.

Will he even know we’re mates?

Mao rubbed his chest as his panther grumbled, and he got a sudden ache in his chest. Mao was also one for facing facts, and if his mate was one of Marvin’s lost boys, then there was no guarantee he would even know what Mao was to him.

Just once, he thought, as he groaned and rubbed his head again. Just once, I’d like for something in life to go easy.

At least he had plenty of supplies. That was positive.

Mao could only hope, something would encourage his mate to wake otherwise his job was going to take a lot longer than planned. And that didn’t take into consideration whether his mate was tied to the records. If he was, then there was a good chance the bunker wasn’t going to get blown up at all, and that was going to piss a lot of important people off.

He heaved a frustrated groan, and for now, accepted he had far too many questions and no answers at all, so it was easier to settle on the most basic question of all. Should I heat the mac and cheese, the beef stew, or both?

Chapter Seven

Ekon

His world moved at warp speed in his brain as it caught up with the memories pouring into him. The longest of lives, the eons of changes that occurred over many centuries. His brain hurt as it worked to assimilate and process what was occurring while it held his body hostage and immobile, understanding he would run to escape. It wasn’t gentle, and somehow the change, as he believed, was worse than what the scientists had inflicted on him against his will.

He had no will over this. None. It was thrust at him, and it was all happening at lightning speed.

At the same time, Ekon’s heart trembled at gentle hands holding him. Pain came and then receded twice before he felt his body being laid on something that smelled like sunshine and freshly cut grass after a downpour. His body’s reaction to the desire of those capable hands was more an afterthought with the pureness of the magic pulsing and expanding within him.

Nothing made sense, and yet he could see the world through a different lens, and everything made sense. A deep, masculine voice spoke words, but they floated over him, making little to no sense when Ekon was in the throes of his metamorphism. It was the only word that fit.

Ashes melted into his cells, reforming them and making him—different yet the same. He strained against the boundaries of the change, and despite the effort, he couldn’t flicker an eyelash to let the man he sensed who remained close know of his distress.

You are the same, just unbreakable, his cougar said with authority.

The voice of his animal didn’t help when they seldom had this type of connection.

Don’t fight, this is meant.

The floaty voice of the man who was borrowing into his cells, blood, bones, and soul, had no right to tell him not to fight when he didn’t understand what this was all about.

You will.

He couldn’t respond because with those last words, the heat in his core turned volcanic. It burned everything in its path. He was part of it but not. He couldn’t open his eyes, move his limbs even with the delicious scent of the man teasing his nose. In his mind, he cried, shouted, and screamed, his body writhing in agony.

It stopped so suddenly that Ekon couldn’t breathe. Panic surged waiting for the next assault. Only nothing happened, and his limbs were suddenly released from the pressing weight, and he groaned, or he thought he did, he couldn’t be certain until a deep masculine voice murmured next to his ear, “What do you need?”

Touch me. Touch me. Let me know I’m not dead, he begged, uncertain he was speaking aloud.

A large, warm hand brushed the side of his face. The hand was so big it engulfed the whole side of his head, fingers sinking into his hair, rubbing gently. “Is this what you need?”

The husky rasped request did unspeakable things to his body, this time when his blood heated, with it came a thirst worse than the one time he’d been hunting his prey and got stuck in the desert with no water for ten days. His throat burned with the need to taste.

“Do you understand what we are to each other?”

The hesitant question got his eyelids flickering open. He drank in the dark, intense pools of desire that met his gaze, and sent sparks of lust straight to his dick. “No. Yes,” he growled the single word answers to the questions in order. He couldn’t form a more coherent sentence to explain what his body was telling him when the need was all-consuming. His cock strained against his boxers in its attempt to drill past the fabric. The damn thing was doing Ekon’s thinking for him.

So he let it and didn’t think about more than taking what he needed and yanked the man—panther—on top of him. Ekon moaned in bliss at the weight and feel of being surrounded by strength with the press of taut muscles.