Page 3 of Bound By Blood and Bone

“What does he require for payment?” Louis was sharp and to the point.

"Nothing. He will come, and when he is done, he will go. It's the way of the master necromancers." Batiste noticed the look of surprise on Louis' face that was quickly suppressed. "He is an ancient; he comes when called and does not accept tribute."

“Then I am honored that he has agreed to help us.”

"Atticus said to keep patrols around the bone yards and pain centers like hospitals and rehab centers and the like. The presence of many deters the shadows. Turn on all the lights in town and keep them on all night. Light, sound, presence will lessen their ability to hunt." Louis nodded and picked up his phone, and with that, Batiste vanished from the room.

Louis had already increased patrols and basically filled the town with soldiers and deputies. He informed Sheriff Keller of Batiste's advice, and the Sheriff made arrangements for floodlights to be positioned in dark zones and in areas of the dead and the vulnerable. The Sheriff also accepted the Master's offer of protection and moved his mate, Jasper, a human, to the Palace.

Louis then notified his second in command, Ismael, of Batiste's success in securing the services of the Necromancer. He looked forward to meeting the ancient Necromancer; their paths had never crossed in the past, although he had heard of the Cultus Mortis. They were silent and invisible until needed, and then they were indispensable. It would be a great loss if that order were allowed to disappear.

After speaking with his leaders, commanders, and specialists and deciding he had secured his people as best he could, Louis stripped and joined his beloved in bed. He pulled the beautiful man into his arms and breathed in his calming scent.

Ezra was his life, the most important person in his world, and holding him and having him near in times of difficulty always gave him strength and focus. Louis threaded Ezra's dark curls through his fingers and thanked Fate for deeming him worthy of such a jewel. He kissed him long and thorough, and Ezra opened his eyes groggy at first, but his excitement grew as Louis' kiss grew more desperate.

"I need you, sweetheart." He whispered and rolled Ezra onto his back and moved over him, pinning him to the soft bed. The warm, urgent kiss roamed Ezra's face and down his throat to his shoulders. Louis reveled in the tender, sensitive flesh and adored the sweet sounds of his beloved in the throes of passion.

He moved his legs to wrap around Louis' hips and began to grind his hardening cock against Louis' throbbing length. His baby was the picture of temptation and beauty; he was perfect. Louis' large hands traveled Ezra's body, sensitizing the flesh and bringing Ezra to the edge of desire.

"Fill me, Louis, I need you inside me." Ezra pleaded so sweetly and peppered Louis' chest with hot, moist kisses. His allure was totally breathtaking, and Louis had zero defenses against the longing and the pure craving he felt for this little man and his gorgeous curls. He was so gentle and kind and possessed a heart that was large and open to all. He never stopped counting his blessings where Ezra was concerned. The man was his obsession.

He made sure to prepare him in the most salacious way with his fingers and his tongue and his leaking cock. Ezra was dripping and ready. Louis lifted him and plunged inside, stretching and filling him with his hard, heated length. Ezra arched and moaned, gripping Louis by the shoulders and riding his cock in rhythm with Louis' hard thrusts.

Peace, love, contentment all flooded Louis' consciousness as he pounded inside his amazing beloved, his perfect bond, the man who made his life wonderful each and every day.

"I love you, Louis." Ezra panted out the words, and the sentiment earned him ravenous kisses while Louis continued to stretch him wide with his amazing length. Ezra came first, stiffening and coming, spreading his warm seed between them, adding to the lubrication and the erotica of the moment. Louis threw his head back and roared, gripping Ezra in a tight embrace and erupting in a climax that made Ezra come again, adding to the warmth and the scent that filled the room and their senses.

"I love you, Ezra. No one soothes me so completely; no one touches me so deeply, and no one but you owns my heart." He settled down upon Ezra, who was holding Louis to his chest, wrapping him in his loving arms, cradling his head, and kissing his forehead.

"Only you, Louis, forever only you," Ezra whispered thoughtfully and with intense emotion that sent a tremble through him. "Only you."

***

Wyatt headed to the dining hall for a cup of coffee and found a seat near the corner windows. There was never a bad view at Palace DuCane; every window showed the beauty of the tended and manicured lawns and gardens.

He settled on a view of the terrace and flower garden, which would be calming and peaceful, just what he needed. The coffee was perfect as always. How Chef Reid managed to make everything taste like heaven at any hour of the day was a mystery to Wyatt, but he was grateful. His thoughts soon went to the current crisis befalling the town.

The scourge that was descending upon the county was a terrible thing, but Master DuCane was never defeated, and considering he was nearing a century upon this earth, that was an impressive record. Wyatt glanced out at the garden when a bright flash caught his attention. It was like a camera flare, and it shot from the sky toward the Palace wall; the location was Master DuCane's office. It was quick, but so bright he was still seeing spots. A visitor, perhaps.

He looked around the dining hall and heard a comment regarding a specialist that was called in to deal with the blight of shadows. He had better be powerful because, from Wyatt's understanding, a blight of shadows was something that, once it took root, did not leave until the food source ran out. Mt. Pleasant was in the grips of a desperation not seen in a very long time. He drank his coffee and silently took stock of the situation.

He'd encountered a blight in his previous Coven; the humans in the neighboring town suffered greatly before the thing left. It was not destroyed or defeated it had been too strong for the limited forces of the Coven and the local pack. No one knew of a specialist; perhaps it was because the town was small, and the blight had eaten its fill and had disappeared before the full understanding of what it was had become apparent.

Thoughts of his old Coven brought with it the familiar sadness and regrets and the feeling of bone-deep failure. He'd been a commander trusted by his men and his leaders, and in the end, he was the only one of his men to have survived the attack.

The Coven to the north decided they wanted more land and more supplies; they didn't care about the people, and that showed in their rampant destruction and slaughter. He was left for dead, but he had survived and believed it to be the greatest insult of his life. His Coven was wiped out one hundred and eighty-seven years ago, but the constant pain in his heart made it feel like yesterday.

He stared out the window and finished his coffee. He was a palace guard, and he served Master Louis DuCane, and he would report for patrol in thirty minutes. He'd been at Coven DuCane for one hundred eighty-seven years, and he gave them every inch of his loyalty and commitment. Wyatt had never made friends; he had acquaintances and people who trusted him and people he trusted, but he refused to get too close to anyone. He didn't deserve friends; he'd had friends, and they were dead now.

***

Atticus arrived just before eleven, riding the light of the Necromancer to his destination. DuCane and his second in command were both from the ancient world, like Atticus. Louis DuCane was descended from nobility, as was Ismael Patronne; they understood ritual, customs, and formalities.

They would understand him, whereas the new world vampires did not hold the old values. The new world had forgotten the ancients and put their trust in current philosophies. The old ways were dying out, as were the ancients like himself and his brothers. Two thousand years of the order of Cultus Mortis, and he was the last; what would be left were the dead talkers, the lesser orders that would rise in status but not in skill, but that was the way of the world.

Atticus appeared in the office of Master Louis DuCane within the Coven Palace. Atticus wore his burgundy suit and robe with the gold adornments earned over a century of service and amulets braiding the edges, a protection and a boundary.

Necromancers were vulnerable and needed to maintain a separation between themselves and the world of the dead. He was tall and dark like most nightshade practitioners, and although over a thousand years old, he looked you no more than thirty or thirty-five.