Bondmates

A/N: Oooh…Look! New chapter! In only two days! *Pats self on back* ;D

Um, so let’s see…to all those who read Chapter 5 originally and noticed that I once called Elijah “Elijah Wood.” My apologies on that. It was not intentional. I’m just delusional XD

It’s thanks to Nathaniel on that correction :). To Nathaniel, I also find the bickering between Taylor and Elijah amusing (but then again, I am the writer). If Taylor does end up the favorite, it’s a good choice…he’s one of my favorites too…Wait, I’m the author so technically…they’re all my favorites… ;P And as for Jos…well, he is a mysterious one (I hope you weren’t referring to his sexy black outfit when you called him a weirdo -.-).

To tashery, thanks for reading so consistently. I’m glad you like it so far and I hope you like the rest of it. I do intend for this to be a fairly expansive work…I just hope I can stay motivated long enough to finish it ;P

So to everyone …you will meet another really cool character in this chapter (if it ends up getting too confusing, I’ll write up a character list). And there’s…MORE PLOT!!! Yaaaay!!!

There is a little bit of sex…kind of…a sexual scene, I guess…and it’s kinda…well, you’ll see…

There will be a real sex scene soon, I promise! :)

Hopefully you’ll be intrigued by the events in this chapter. Again, pleasepleaspleaseplease review and tell me what you think!

Anyway, happy reading all!


Chapter 6

Max stared.

And stared.

And stared some more.

Finally, “You’re a…p-p-pop st-st-star?!”

Taylor shrugged. “Was. Past tense. As in, not anymore.”

“B-but…why not?!” Max blurted out.

The star-turned-computer-programmer looked him straight in the eye. “The Rift of Nations.”

It was all he said. But it was enough. The Rift of Nations had turned the world upside down. It was the reason that nearly every country in the world had isolated itself. It was the reason why much of the world was suffering even more than before the Rift.

It was why another world war was waiting to happen.

Only this time, there would be no alliances between countries. It would be every nation to itself.


“Sir, the data you requested.”

Donovan Diel looked up from the various reports he had been perusing. As the head researcher for the government sponsored Magic Arms Development, he was a very busy person. His team was constantly looking for new specimens to study and creating new theories based on the data that they had obtained from the study of those they already had under study.

Regrettably they had not yet made any decisive progress.

But it would happen, he was sure of it. His was a mission given from God, was it not?

“Ah, yes. Thank-you Mr. Riordan.”

Donovan’s dark brown eyes, nearly black in the dim office, studied the young man before him. At twenty-one, seven years younger than his own twenty-eight years of age, Skye Riordan was an exceptional aide. With an IQ of over two hundred, he was a certified genius. He had received his masters from Cambridge University he was only sixteen. Rather than immediately get his PhD, he had chosen to go into research. At eighteen, immediately after the Rift of Nations, he had been hand-chosen to be Donovan’s second in the study of the ever-elusive concept of magic.

But his intelligence was not the only reason Donovan found him fascinating.

Quite bluntly, the boy was beautiful. He was a work of art that plainly showed off the careful breeding of his aristocratic family. His skin was a perfect porcelain white, so very like a fragile doll’s. His body was tall, though not as tall as Donovan’s larger build, yet almost unnaturally slender. His hair, a dark red that contrasted prettily with his pale skin, was straight and silky, falling so that it covered his left eye. The right visible eye, silvery violet, looked at Donovan with cool indifference.

Untouchable…yet begging to be touched, to be broken.

“Is there anything else that you need of me, sir?”

Even his voice, utterly inflectionless, seemed to want Donovan to make it scream itself hoarse.

Underneath the desk, his dick hardened.

Yet he smiled easily at Skye, giving no trace of the desire he felt. The desire to fuck him, break him, make him bleed. “No, that is all. You may go. Thank-you for your good work today, as always.”

Skye nodded sharply. “Of course. If you would excuse me.”

He left as swiftly and silently as he entered.

The moment the door closed, Donovan’s hands unzipped his pants and wrapped around his aching arousal.

He arched back into his chair, one hand gripping the base of his cock as the other smeared his pre-come down the thick length. His mind called up images of his elegant aide’s body, hands bound, legs spread, waiting to be debased. His hands squeezed his cock, imagining the tightness of Skye Riordan’s blue blood ass sucking him deeper into that long, lovely body.

He bit back a moan as he came, splattering the papers on his desk with his seed.

They weren’t that important really. He only wished that he had thought to have his office soundproofed.


Skye’s upper lip curled in disgust as his boss’s strangled moan of ecstasy reached his ears from behind the simple metal door.

Though it wasn’t an uncommon occurrence, it made him nauseous every time. The older man never even properly cleaned up after his episodes, so not only was there constantly a smell of old sex in the office, every once in a while Skye would find dried come on the papers that he later retrieved from there.

He hated his job.

As he walked away from his position outside the room, he lightly tapped his hand against his pocket. To others, it would merely look like a nervous habit, one that he did often enough that no one who knew him took any notice anymore.

What they didn’t know was that lined in his pocket was a tiny device, no bigger than the back of a woman’s earring, that transmitted the tap sequences to an orbiting satellite which then forwarded the transmissions to a small computer terminal in New York.

His current message said, “HE’S DONE, WILL NAP FOR TWO HOURS, DO IT NOW.”

He was glad that Donovan Diel was such a predictable man.


“This is a rather unexpected surprise.”

Andrew Harris warily watched the man perched on his couch. He had just returned from a rather uneventful day at work. Ever since he had nearly made Taylor lose his temper several days before, absolutely nothing of interest had happened. It was most frustrating.

And now he came home to…this.

It wasn’t every day that one opened their front door to find be-goggled people in flamboyant Hawaiian shirts calmly drinking tea in their living room.

“Hello Mica.” Gone was the pleasant face that he showed the people he worked with. His eyes glinted dangerously. No longer were they a warm brown, they were the gold of a demon’s eyes, with slit pupils like a wild animal’s.

Those who knew his true self would readily admit his predatory nature.

But he could count on one hand the number of people who really knew him.

The strange boy on his couch was one such person.

Mica. It was the only name he knew him by. In the ten years that he had known him, the name “Mica” was the one identifying thing that the boy had given him. When last he had seen Mica, nearly two years ago, he had never thought that he would see him again.

He resisted the urge to bring his hand to his cheek, remembering the slap that Mica had given him right before walking out of his life.

Not that he hadn’t deserved it…and then some.

“So…to what do I owe this visit? My good standing as a reputable citizen perhaps?”

The other snorted. “Get over yourself Harris.”

Andrew couldn’t keep from flinching. The other’s tone was without the warmth that he had once heard daily. But worse, was the impersonal usage of his name. Not “Andy” or even “Andrew.” Just “Harris.”

“Then what is it that has brought you back here?” Andrew could feel his heart clench.

“I thought there was something you should know.”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

Andrew wanted nothing more than to stalk over to the couch, pin the other’s hands over his head, take off those ridiculous clothes, and make love to him…because wasn’t that what they used to do? Make love?

Mica set his tea down. Andrew absently noted that the cup was the same cup that he had always used to drink out of. It was black with white speckles over it. Simple, but he had loved it. And Andrew had kept it.

“Just so you know, it’s not going to happen.” Andrew quickly threw up his shields. He had forgotten about Mica’s mind-reading. It really had been too long. “But the reason I’m here? It’s about your brother.”

Time seemed to stop for Andrew. His brother? Max? The little whiny brat that his parents had fawned over? Why would Mica bring him up?

Jealousy burned in the pit of his stomach. His golden eyes flashed angrily. “What about him?”

“He nearly died the other day.”

The anger and jealousy quickly vanished. Shock replaced them. “What?”

“The kid ran into a Reaper.”

“How? How could that happen? He’s just a stupid little kid…”

“He’s not.”

The jealousy was coming back. Mica seemed to care an awful lot for his brat of a brother.

“What is he to you?” Andrew snarled. In the back of his head, he knew he was being irrational. But Mica, Mica was his. Even after two years of separation, Andrew was filled with possessiveness.

“Are you jealous?” Mica scoffed in disbelief. “You have no right to be jealous, not anymore.”

Andrew bowed his head. He knew that. He knew it. But even so…

“But it’s not like you need to be anyway.”

Did his tone soften? Even the tiniest bit? Andrew looked up at his former lover. Mica wasn’t looking at him.

“He’s a Healer.”

And Andrew really didn’t know what to think of that. His little brother was a Healer. Max was everything that he wasn’t. A being of light…

No wonder their parents had loved him.

“Anyway, I just came because I figured it was something you should know. Someday…you might want to tell him, you know.”

Mica was gone before he could say anything back.

Slowly, he made his way over to the couch. He sat himself where Mica had sat only moments before, and gently picked up the black and white cup.

He raised it to his lips.

It tasted bitter.


His manager was pissed at him.

He could see it in the pot-bellied man’s red face, his twitching eyes, his clenched hands.

But he really couldn’t care.

“What is wrong with you Vincent? This is the second day in a row that you’ve gotten drunk off your ass and missed your practice and promotional activities. If this keeps going on, you’ll become a has-been.”

“Fuck you.” Vincent gave the man the finger.

The manager’s face only got redder.

“You are being completely irresponsible! What is wrong with you?!”

Everything…

Elijah doesn’t want me…

I’m worthless…

“Your fucking face is making me fucking sick,” he finally mumbled as he pressed a hand against blood-shot eyes.

He giggled to himself as his manager looked like he was about to burst. Like a balloon…he thought.

“It’s all that damn alcohol that’s making you sick, you sorry excuse for a star!”

Yeah, he’d had a lot of alcohol. But personally, he thought it was the drugs that were the biggest source of his headache.

“You have to get up! You have a meeting today with Thierry and his managers about that duo that you’ve been wanting to do with him. If you miss this opportunity…”

As his manager rambled on, Vincent’s clouded mind tried to call forth an image of Thierry. Try as he might, he couldn’t do it. He generally remembered that Thierry was considered to be his only rival in the American pop industry. He also knew that he had met the other star several times in the past. However…

The only face that his brain could put together was one with fascinating green eyes.

Elijah…

Apparently he had said it out loud. “Elijah? Is that what this is about?” The manager sighed and rubbed his temples. “Yes, everyone and their mother probably knows about the incident at the diner the other day. You really overstepped your boundaries with that one. Coming on to him while sexing up some poor waiter. It’s been the top headline in the news. It’s the reason why if this deal with Thierry doesn’t work out, you’ll be in the gutter.”

Vincent yanked the covers back over his head. He didn’t want to deal with the real world and its judgment. He didn’t want to think about anything anymore.

He heard the muffled steps of his manager leaving. The door closed behind him.

For a while there was blissful silence.

Then there was a knock on the door.

He ignored it.

Another knock.

Hoarsely, he shouted, “Go the fuck away, fucker!”

There was a pause before the door opened.

Angrily, he threw the bed-sheets off of him and sat up to curse the intruder…

Who was none other than Elijah Steele.

Despite his splitting headache and his aching body, he grinned sexily. “Elijah baby…”

“I’m not your baby Vince.”

Vincent’s smile faltered under Elijah’s gaze. He didn’t seem happy.

“It’s my day off, Vince. But your manager called me and all but begged me to get you on your feet today. So here I am.”

Vincent’s mouth was sour. “So you don’t even want to be here, is that it? You’re just here to prod the freak into waking up and making an appearance, right? Wow, Eli, you’re sooooo good at positive reinforcement.” He laughed bitterly.

“Vince…”

“Don’t ‘Vince’ me. Don’t make me feel even worse about myself than I already do. God, Elijah.” His hands clawed at his face. “I don’t know what’s happening to me. It’s no wonder that you find me revolting.”

“I don’t find you revolting, if it’s any consolation.”

Vincent scoffed. “Bullshit.”

Elijah shook his head, and sat down on the bed next to Vincent. The blond man shivered at his proximity.

“It’s true. You’re not revolting.”

“You don’t want me.”

Elijah ran a hand through his hair. “I won’t deny it. I don’t want you. But that doesn’t mean that you’re lacking in attractive qualities, Vince.”

“Then what is it?” Vincent hissed. “What is keeping you from me?”

At this Elijah smiled. It was soft and warm, like no other smile Vincent had seen on the model’s face before. And he thought he had seen them all…

“I already have someone. That someone is someone that I love more than anything else in this world. No one, not even you, is worth hurting this person.”

At this, everything gave way inside of Vincent. Elijah Steele had a lover. One that the paparazzi didn’t know about. Obviously, this person was someone that Elijah wanted to keep safe. Someone good enough to deserve his love.

Someone that wasn’t Vincent Delacruz.

He barely registered the hands that soothingly rubbed his back as sobs wracked his body. He was so worthless.


A pounding on the office door woke Donovan up from his post-masturbation slumber.

Before he had time to clear off the evidence of his fantasies, a security guard ran in.

“Doctor Diel, there’s been an intrusion!”

All vestiges of sleep quickly vanished, his mind clearing. “What?! What happened?! Why isn’t the alarm sounding?!”

The guard shook his head. “We don’t know sir. All the power in the affected sector suddenly went out. Mr. Riordan in currently looking into the cause…but everyone’s thinking that…well…”

“Magic,” Donovan bit out. Damn it. It seemed that all the freaks out there already knew their location. “What sectors were hit?”

The guard swallowed, obviously prepared for an outburst. Donovan’s eyes narrowed.

“The holding cells, sir.”

Shit. Fucking shit.

Without another word, he raced out of the office.

Upon reaching the cells, he found his aide directing the staff on evidence gathering and cleanup processes. He quickly made his way over to the red-haired man.

“What’s the status?”

Skye looked up at him from where he had been going through the database. “It’s no good, sir. Whoever they were, they knew what they were doing. They got all of the specimens out and managed to corrupt our mainframe computer with a fast-acting virus. Essentially all the data has been lost.”

Fuck! Donovan growled angrily and kicked at the nearest pile of debris.

He didn’t pay any attention to his pretty aide whose only apparent sign of dishevelment was his fingers drumming against his pocket.

Certainly, he couldn’t know that his aide was sending a message elsewhere that said, “MISSION SUCCESSFUL.”