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    Summary

    Usually, Vox didn’t mind 'filling in', as it were, when Valentino’s crew were short handed. He liked sex well enough, the money was good, which helped since he was running Vox Technology out of his garage and not exactly making bank, and it wasn’t like Val himself didn’t do the same from time to time, stepping out onto the stage or onto the streets.

    This, though? This was different. This had Vox halfway across the city, to a secluded little apartment in Downtown that hit Vox with the stink of estrus the moment he crossed the threshold. If he’d had an actual nose, he would have held it. That alone was nothing too abnormal- a lot of the requests for house calls Valentino’s escort agency got were sinners going through ruts or heats. What stopped Vox in his tracks was when he got past the estrus to the base of the scent that filled the dwelling; formaldehyde and deer musk and the overripe sweetness of meat left to rot in a Louisiana summer. In the entranceway was a familiar pair of boots; custom blood red leather with deer prints on the soles.

    Oh, fuck.

    Fuck.

    Alastor.

    Series
    Language:
    English
    Words:
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    Chapters:
    2/2
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