Thanos (Masters Among Monsters Book 3)

by Ella Frank

  At first, Thanos thought it was from pleasure. But when Paris’s body locked up and his head jerked back, Thanos had to clutch at his arms to keep him from falling.

  “Paris,” Thanos said, as Paris’s eyes swirled and the black irises swallowed the entire surface of the eyeball.

  Fuck, this was what had happened with Hades back in Vasilios’s bathroom.

  “Paris,” he said again, but no matter how many times he called his name, nothing appeared to break through the trancelike state Paris had now slipped into.

  London, England—1904

  NO…

  NO. NO. No.

  Paris’s eyes began to focus the second they flicked open, and the first thing he realized was that he was no longer in the room with Thanos.

  Damn it.

  As the loud ringing in his ears dimmed, he brought his hands up to rub them over his eyes as he tried to make sense of where he was and why. One second he’d been kissing Thanos. Finally, really kissing him, and then…now, he was here. Wherever here was.

  The faint sound of voices drifted through the air and progressively got louder as Paris pushed up off the hardwood floor he was sitting on and got to his feet. After brushing his hands off on his jeans, he looked around the room he was in and came to an abrupt halt when he spotted— Oh shit. Thanos.

  The room, Paris now realized, was opulent, to say the least. The walls were made of some sort of shiny mahogany paneling, with elaborate golden filigree all around the moldings and floorboards. There were paintings on nearly every spare inch of space available, and in the center of the room was a huge four-poster bed with a deep crimson duvet and mountains upon mountains of pillows.

  It was obviously a bedroom, and if Paris had to guess, it belonged to the dark-haired man in the silk robe, currently standing toe to toe with Thanos. A fact Paris wished didn’t cut as deeply as it did.

  “Thanos. I’m so pleased you have come,” the young man said, smiling up at the one he was addressing. “I thought I had lost your affection after you did not call the last couple of nights.”

  Paris walked over toward the two men, aware that this had to be a memory of some kind, so he wasn’t at risk of being seen. But what he didn’t understand was why he was being shown it.

  Why would Thanos want him to see an evening he spent with another man while kissing him? Was it some kinky vampire thing? Did they all believe in threesomes? He sure hoped not, because he wasn’t that kind of guy.

  “My apologies,” Thanos said. “I had meant to get word to you sooner, but the longer I was detained, I felt it only right I come and say goodbye to you in person. I also felt it my duty to warn you to be of care for the next few nights.”

  Warn him?

  “Warn me?” the man said, echoing Paris’s thought, and Thanos nodded. Dressed in classic Regency attire, from the camel-colored trousers to the crisp white shirt and cravat knotted at his throat, Thanos was incredibly handsome in his navy-blue tailcoat. His long hair was pulled back and tied at the nape of his neck with a black ribbon, and the stubble on his cheeks made him appear roguish.

  Judging from the clothing, though, that meant this was hmm, England…in the early nineteen hundreds?

  “Yes. I am here to warn you,” Thanos finally said, bringing the man’s hand up to his lips. He placed a kiss to the back of his fingers, and when Thanos glanced up at the robed man from beneath his lashes, Paris felt his heart melt at the awe and admiration in that one look. Thanos cared for this man—whoever he was.

  “Charlie, I have come to tell you that I cannot see you anymore. That this, it cannot continue.”

  “But why?” Charlie said, as he moved impossibly closer to Thanos. The edges of his robe fluttered around his thighs as he drew nearer, and it was clear that he wore nothing beneath, by the expanse of lightly dusted thigh Paris caught a glimpse of. “Have you grown tired of me already?”

  “You know that is not possible.”

  “Then I do not understand why you would think this should end.”

  Charlie placed a palm on the breast pocket of Thanos’s jacket and smoothed it up to his broad shoulder, his robe inching up as he moved to his toes.

  “Did I not please you the last time you were here?”

  Thanos shook his head as he spoke softly. “That is not why this must end. It must end because you are no longer safe. I can no longer keep you safe.”

  “Safe?” Charlie chuckled and tipped his head back. “When did I ever give you the impression I wish to be safe, Thanos? Surely not when I asked you to join me in my bed…” Charlie took a step back, and when Thanos let him go, his hands went to the sash around his waist and he slipped the knot free.

  As the silk pooled at Charlie’s feet, Paris gasped and a hand flew to his mouth. But it wasn’t from the shock of seeing this man naked and aroused. It was from the crisscross of angry welts upon his abused flesh. Charlie then spun on his toes, giving Thanos his back, and said over his shoulder with no compunction whatsoever, “And surely it was not when you did this.”

  Paris dropped his arm down by his side as his eyes flew to Thanos’s, and the desire now heating the blue flames told him everything he needed to know. Thanos had done that to this man.

  Oh God, Paris thought as Thanos took a step toward Charlie, who was now grinning at him over his shoulder. Was Paris about to get a firsthand show of it all?

  “No, Paris Antoniou. You are not here for that.”

  The eerie voice was loud in the room, like it had come from someone standing right beside him. But when Paris whirled around as though he’d been caught stealing a cookie from the cookie jar, he saw nothing, and it began to laugh.

  “You are here to see the monsters you are designed to put an end to.”

  What…? No, he can’t mean—

  “Oh, but I do. It is time for you to see the kind of animals you have been sent to put down.”

  “No. I don’t want to see this,” Paris said out loud, the panic kicking in as he watched Thanos stalk forward, closer to the naked Charlie.

  “And why would you ever believe you have a choice?”

  Paris brought his hands up to his eyes, trying in vain to cover them, but he soon found himself back against one of the wood-paneled walls with his arms pinned down beside him. His free will—gone.

  “The only way this is going to work is if you see with your own eyes the kind of beast you are trying so desperately to protect.”

  Paris could feel his heart pounding so hard that he was shocked he hadn’t stroked out at the scene playing out in front of him. Thanos had reached Charlie now, and had brought his large hands up to cup each shoulder. He then lowered his head to run his tongue along one of the raised welts. Paris saw Thanos’s fangs slowly slide into place and swallowed back the desire to scream.

  Oh God. Oh God.

  What had Leo told him? We all have choices? But what was his choice here? He couldn’t move a muscle. Couldn’t shut his eyes. He was helpless to warn this clueless Charlie guy that the dominant male in the room with him was much more of a danger with his bare hands and teeth than a whip. And just when he thought Thanos would strike, a third figure appeared in the room, materializing behind the two in complete silence.

  “Recognize him?” the malevolent voice whispered by Paris’s ear.

  He was finding it difficult to breathe as his eyes took in the angelic man now standing behind Thanos and Charlie. He was dressed in much the same way as Thanos, but his hair was shorter and slicked back to just under his ears. He had a swollen eye and purple cheek, and down the side of his neck were puncture marks. Fang marks. Dozens of them.

  “That’s Eton,” Paris whispered, as he watched Thanos’s Ancient—well, ex-Ancient now—size up the two oblivious to his presence.

  “Stop this,” Paris called out, not wanting to see what was about to happen. Thanos had obviously lived beyond the date he was currently seeing. But poor Charlie, the young man who’d just angled his head to the side and moaned with pleasure a
s Thanos’s lips touched his skin…had he?

  “Now you are starting to follow.”

  “Why? Why are you showing me this?” Paris demanded. “They’re vampires, I get it—”

  “No,” the voice thundered, and then right there in front of him, like the Grim Reaper, the dark silhouette of Hades appeared and molten red eyes flared at Paris from under a hood. “You do not get anything. That is the problem. So now it is time for you to see for yourself.”

  Paris’s entire body shook with fear at what he was seeing both in front of him and just beyond the cloaked male. Then Hades dematerialized into a cloud of black smoke, much like the stuff that had come from his palms that night in the cell. Before Paris could think beyond that holy-shit moment, the Grim fucking Reaper then appeared opposite Charlie.

  Eton was now within a couple of feet of the two males, enjoying the beautiful build of sexual tension to what Paris now feared would be a bloody disaster, as opposed to a turbulent tumble across the bed. And when Charlie let out an erotic groan, followed by Thanos’s name, Eton’s eyes flashed the same shade as Hades—molten red.

  Rage, undiluted and unchecked, swirled within their depths.

  Eton was in some kind of savage state that was clearly not going to end well, and Paris would’ve given just about anything not to be there in that moment.

  “It is too late for outs now, Paris. It is time to face your biggest demons. The same two you currently are sharing a room with.”

  Then, with an elaborate whoosh of his cloak, Hades was gone, and Paris could move to rush over to the three males—but he was too late.

  Eton had flashed into the place Hades had vacated, opposite Charlie, and the second the human saw him, he startled and Thanos raised his head.

  “Eton,” Thanos said, and the tone of his voice made it obvious how on edge he was made by his Ancient’s unexpected appearance. Somehow, Eton must have cloaked his presence from Thanos.

  Eton’s hand flew out to wrap around Charlie’s neck, and he pulled him forward two steps so he could run a tongue up along the man’s cheek. Charlie whimpered and clutched at Eton’s arm, but as if he didn’t notice or care, the Ancient merely looked over at Thanos, who stood with his hands balled by his thighs. He’d gone from amorous and aroused to defensive and tense.

  “Do not do this,” Thanos said.

  Shit. Shit. Shit.

  “This is not on me, Thanos. We made a vow, you and I, and merely days later, you are here breaking it.”

  “No,” Thanos shouted, shaking his head.

  “Ne,” Eton replied, and then gazed into Charlie’s eyes and said in a voice devoid of any emotion, “I want you to turn around and kneel at Thanos’s feet, agori.”

  When Eton released his hold on Charlie, the man automatically turned on the balls of his feet, and Thanos moved to go to him.

  “No, Thanos. You touch him and I will make this hurt.”

  “Why?” Thanos demanded as Charlie fell, naked, to his knees in front of Thanos. “I was here to end it.”

  Eton walked up behind Charlie and lowered himself down behind the man to stroke a palm over his dark head of hair. “I know, but I need to be sure you mean it.”

  The pain in Thanos’s eyes was as bright as the rage in Eton’s then, and Paris was shocked at the level of emotion he could sense there.

  “If you do this for me,” Eton said, “I will know you truly meant what you said the other night.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  Eton tilted his head and a cruel smile curved his mouth, transforming his angelic face to that of the devil himself. “You will not.”

  Paris could see the turmoil in Thanos’s expression. He didn’t want to make this decision, but he knew he had no choice. His jaw bunched as he stared down at the one he was bound to and the one Paris was starting to believe he loved, and as he moved to take Charlie’s face between his hands, Eton glanced up and over Thanos’s shoulder, locking eyes directly with—

  Oh fuck, Eton is staring right at me.

  Eton then sneered, flashing his fangs as though he’d just been challenged. But by who? Me? He can’t possibly see me or know that I’m here. But there was no mistaking the ferocity in that growl. Eton was suddenly livid, and in reaction he punched a fist forward, straight through Charlie’s body from back to front, so he now held in his bloodied fist the man’s heart.

  The shout that came from Thanos then sounded like the cry of a wounded animal. He stumbled back and almost fell, as he looked down at the gory scene at his feet, and Paris felt bile rise in his throat.

  Eton then pulled his arm free of Charlie’s torso, and got to his feet, heart still in hand. As he stepped over the body, he held the organ up between him and Thanos and said, “You are mine. You agreed to that the night you turned, and three nights back. Has that changed?”

  Thanos’s jaw ticked as he stared down into Eton’s face and shook his head.

  Eton dropped the heart at Thanos’s feet and then brought a hand up to cup his cheek. “He would’ve ruined us. He would have made you want the impossible, and that would have destroyed you. Remember, I will always save you, Thanos. Even when it is from yourself.”

  Thanos said nothing in response as his Ancient stepped around him and looked back at the corpse upon the hardwood floor.

  “I will let you say your goodbyes now, and will see you back at the residence this eve.” And without another word, Eton vanished.

  Paris stood silently in the bedroom that had gone from boudoir to crime scene in a violent minute, and watched Thanos go down to his knees and scoop Charlie up into his arms.

  He drew him in against his body, even as the blood stained the light-colored wool of his trousers, and then draped Charlie’s robe over the top of him as he whispered, “I am sorry.” As he began to hug the male close to him and stroke a hand over his hair, he continued, “I am so very, very sorry.”

  He then lowered his head and kissed Charlie’s hair, and Paris felt his heart break.

  Thanos was grieving as he sat there in Charlie’s bedroom, and Paris wondered if it was for Charlie or for everything he had just lost when he’d made the conscious choice to let this male die in place of his Ancient.

  And as that thought entered his mind, Paris heard, “He will do the exact same thing to you,” just before he woke up.

  “ELIAS!” ISADORA CALLED out as she ran down the corridors under the National History Museum in search of him. When she got no response, she stopped at a crossway of tunnels and shut her eyes, trying to sense the male she had let back into her life, bed, and yes, she thought, my heart.

  She concentrated on the last time she’d been there with Thanos and Alasdair. They’d been questioning Alasdair’s yielding, Leonidas. They had been in his office, and when Thanos had opened the door to Elias she remembered, ahh yes, a long corridor with an elevator in front of her, which no doubt had been the way he’d gotten her from down here in the basement up to his office that day.

  She spotted the elevator down to her right and headed to the end of the long, narrow walkway. She couldn’t sense Elias as she moved, and that caused a feeling of unease to wash over her. Thanos had said he’d left him there alive. Back where they’d been attacked. Yet the farther she walked, there was still nothing.

  “Elias,” she called out again, hoping he would somehow hear her and respond. But when silence was the only thing that met her ears, she brought a hand up to the rose pendant at her neck.

  It was the one he’d given her back when they first met, and she closed her eyes thinking of him. She could vividly remember his silver eyes and the way they darkened whenever they were close. The coal-black hair peppered with silver and that dark stubble, and as his image formed in total clarity, she heard it. The dull thump thump thump of a weak heartbeat.

  She ran farther down the corridor, and as the pulsating rhythm became louder, she knew she was close. When she reached the end, the shut door in front of her wasn’t familiar at all, and if it wasn’t for
the now-steady beat she could hear beyond the wooden panel, she would never have remembered this place.

  Magic.

  Damn Eton and Thanos’s ability to weave it as well as anyone born into the dark arts. Eton had cloaked the room from any and all human presence, keeping Elias’s capture away from the very people who would be looking for him here, at his place of employment.

  With no more hesitation, Isadora reached for the handle and shoved the door open, and what greeted her had her flashing across the room.

  Elias was strung up by his wrists just inside of Leo’s office with his toes barely touching the ground. The dark slacks she’d given him back at the lair were all that he wore. But they were now covered in blood, as was most of his torso from his ribs down, and the rest of his skin had taken on a ghastly pallor.

  She stopped in front of him and grabbed either side of his face, tilting his head up so she could see the split lip and shut eyes.

  “Elias,” she said, swiping his dark hair from his forehead. When she got no response, she reached for the chains around his wrists and tugged, pulling them free.

  Elias collapsed into her arms like a rag doll, one that weighed close to two hundred pounds, and she easily carried him with her over to the couch Alasdair had first brought her and Thanos to when they had questioned his Leonidas.

  “Elias, wake up,” she pleaded, careful not to touch his blood, as she rested his head in her lap and stroked his cheek. She let her gaze trail down his body to the wounds he’d suffered, and tried to keep her rage in check.

  Anger wouldn’t do either of them any good right now, and really, did she have a right to be so furious at Eton and Thanos for what they’d done? Yes, she’d given Elias a pardon because she had a history with him, and Diomêdês had done so because of her. But the other two vampires…their lives had been destroyed, irrevocably changed, and all because of what Elias had set into action.

  That didn’t seem to have any bearing on her emotions, though, because as she sat there willing him to open his damn eyes, she felt a tear run down the side of her cheek.