by Marcy Jacks
Which Seth apparently didn’t want him to do.
Micah didn’t know if he could suddenly stop his share of the chores. Ultimately, someone had to clean the house. They couldn’t simply stop doing it just because everyone was finding mates or going their own way.
Maybe Micah could convince Stefan to let him continue with his chores. They weren’t all bad, and he got to talk with his friends when they worked together.
Micah had left his bedroom, thinking of all the things he hadn’t thought about when he’d accepted Stefan as his mate last night when Van suddenly stepped around the corner at the end of the hallway.
Micah stopped short. They stared at each other.
Chapter Seven
Micah glanced around, just to make sure he wasn’t doing anything he shouldn’t have been doing. He hoped to see someone else, some other witness to what may or may not happen, but there was no one around.
Of course. This time a day, so late and close to noon, everyone who slept in this wing of the mansion, the servants’ wing, were all away, out in the gardens, cleaning the bathrooms, trimming the weeds, and just doing what they were supposed to be doing this time of day.
Which meant he was alone here, with Van.
Van stepped forward. “You don’t have to be afraid.”
Micah didn’t know if he should step back or hold still. The ironic thing was this indecision paralyzed him on the spot.
“I’m not afraid.”
Was that a lie? That felt a little too close to a lie.
Van wouldn’t stop coming closer and closer. The expression on his face looked more and more hopeful the closer he got until he was right in front of Micah.
Micah told himself he was being stupid. He relaxed. There was nothing to fear. Van had some strange ideas about how to protect the omegas in the house, but he wasn’t a bad person. Micah had helped him, and Van was grateful. That was all.
“You’re mated with Stefan now? Completely?”
Was there a way to not complete a mating?
“I drank his blood, and he drank mine.
Micah didn’t bother mentioning the semen part of it. He didn’t want to throw it in the man’s face.
Van inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling. “I can smell him on you. You can tell me. Did he force this on you?”
Micah’s eyes flew wide. “What? No, it wasn’t like that.”
“Then why was this so sudden?” Van no longer looked hopeful. He looked hurt. He reached out, taking Micah by the shoulders and gripping him tightly.
Micah didn’t like that, because now he really couldn’t back up if he wanted to.
“Why did this happen right after I offered to be your mate? This isn’t right. He stole you from me. Something must be going on.”
“Nothing’s going on,” Micah insisted, and this time he really did try to pull away.
“But I love you,” Van said. “I know you felt the same way for me that I did for you when you cared for me. You could have left me, but you didn’t. You stayed with me.”
“I wasn’t the only one in the room.”
“But you picked me up and helped me walk back, and you called for the medics. You saw to it that I didn’t bleed out alone on the floor after what that pig did.”
With the bruises on his face, Van looked a lot meaner suddenly, as if he couldn’t handle even thinking about what Lucian had done to him.
Which only happened because Van had tortured Sorin.
“I think I need to be going,” Micah said. He actively tried to pull away with time, but Van seemed determined to not let him go. “Stefan will be waiting for me.”
“Don’t be afraid to tell me the truth if you have to,” Van said. “I know this must be something to punish me further for what I did to the vampire. You don’t have to let them threaten or frighten you. You can tell me the truth. I know there’s something else!”
Micah clenched his teeth. He didn’t know what to say because there was nothing else for him to say.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Van, but…” Should he say it? It seemed cruel to tell him he never did have feelings for him and whatever feelings Van thought were there had been in his own mind.
At the same time, it was also cruel to allow the man to go on believing there had been something between them when Micah had helped to mend his wounds.
Micah swallowed hard. He clenched his fists, and as proof to his cowardice, he couldn’t bring himself to look Van in the eyes.
“I am very sorry for the misunderstanding, but I never had any such feelings for you.” He hated this. He hated it so much. “I helped you because I didn’t like to see you in pain, and as one of the dragons who set me and my friends free, I wanted to help you, even though you were being punished. In truth, I do love Stefan.”
“You don’t!”
Van’s grip on Micah’s shoulders was suddenly so painfully tight that Micah cringed from the pain. He tried to pull back again, but Van was a dragon, powerful, and he seemed determined to keep Micah from going anywhere.
“That can’t be right. It can’t be.”
“V-Van?” Micah was dumbstruck. He didn’t know what to say or what to do. He was trapped and entirely at the mercy of a warrior who seemed determined to not believe a word that came from Micah’s mouth.
“You don’t…I get it now. It’s all right,” Van said, his panicked expression suddenly turning into something a little more understanding.
Relief flooded Micah. “You do?”
“I do,” Van said, and he kissed Micah, hard on the mouth.
Micah’s eyes flew wide. He had no idea what the hell Van was thinking, and his body refused to move at first. When he did snap out of it, it didn’t seem to be fast enough, as Van was no longer simply holding tightly to Micah’s shoulders. He wound his arms all the way around Micah’s back.
Clutching him, as if he were terrified Micah would turn and run away or he would vanish.
The first one of those things was the truest.
Micah pushed against Van’s chest, and he dug his feet into the floor and pushed with everything he had in him, but it wasn’t enough.
Van wasn’t even the most powerful dragon in the entire house, and yet Micah was still no match for his power and strength.
It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. Oh God, Micah was being kissed by someone other than Stefan the morning after they’d mated to each other!
It was horrible. He didn’t like it. He was ashamed of himself, ashamed for not being able to pull together the strength he needed to fully resist. He was an omega, true, but he wasn’t some helpless child. He felt as if some instinct should have kicked in that would have given him the strength to pull away, to break off the kiss and scream at Van for doing what he was doing.
The fact that no such strength presented itself, the presence of Van’s tongue in his mouth made him want to cry.
This proved his lack of worth to Stefan. There was no way around it. He wasn’t worthy of Stefan, and what would Stefan think of him when he found out this had happened?
He would leave Micah, that was what would happen, and if that was all he did, then that would be the kindest thing he could do.
Micah’s eyes burned, filled with moisture, then tears spilled hotly down his cheeks, his body slumping in Van’s arms. He was no longer fighting the kiss, but he didn’t accept it either.
Not that it mattered. The damage was done.
Now he knew how the pleasure slaves felt, why they cried in the night, and what it meant to have someone take something from you they did not have permission to take.
Micah kept perfectly still, allowing Van to kiss him, hoping the man would be finished soon.
It felt as if it took forever. It really did, though Micah knew it couldn’t have been longer than a few seconds.
Van’s eyes were pained as he looked down at Micah. Micah looked away from him, hating him for making him cheat on Stefan so soon into their relationship.
“
I’ll get his scent off you. It’ll be like it never happened. You don’t have to be afraid of him.”
Micah wanted to laugh. “You really want someone to rescue, don’t you?”
“When you’re in trouble, I’ll come for you every time.”
And yet, for some reason, the big dummy couldn’t see that it was Van who was causing him trouble.
Van wanted to be a protector so badly that he couldn’t bring himself to believe Micah even when Micah himself claimed everything was fine.
That almost sounded like a sickness of some sort. Micah had no doubts that if he felt something was wrong, and he couldn’t go to anyone else, Van would be there to help him, but telling Van everything was fine was an entirely different matter, it seemed.
Micah had to try again. Maybe Stefan would forgive him. The kiss hadn’t been his fault, after all. Maybe if he explained it a little more simpler to Van, then Van would understand.
“I am not in love with you, Van. I am in love with Stefan.”
“You can’t think he loves you back. He’s only using you to punish me!”
Micah cringed, the words hurting him, knifing him in the heart the way nothing else had before in his life. “I know, but that doesn’t matter. I still want to try and get him to love me back. You just want a victim to protect. That’s not me. I can’t give you what you need.”
Van was silent again, staring down at Micah quietly, as if he was honestly thinking about what Micah had just told him.
Micah wasn’t entirely sure that was the case, but he didn’t care either. He only cared that he was able to get out of here, to go back to Stefan.
Suddenly, Van sliced the palm of his hand with one of his hooked claws, and he brought it to Micah’s mouth, holding it there over his lips and pressing down hard.
“If you drink my blood, it’ll cancel out the mating. You’ll be mine, and then you won’t have to tell these lies! I can defend you and make the proper claim.”
The proper claim? No. No. Micah knew what that meant, and as Van started to back him up toward his old room, a panic unlike anything he’d ever felt in his life came over him.
He fought and struggled harder, twisting his body and wiggling to get away, desperate to do anything and everything that would get him out of Van’s arms, but again, nothing worked. His resolve was there, but no extra strength brought on by instinct came to him.
Micah reached out and grabbed onto the doorframe to his room. He held on tight, but it wasn’t enough, and Van only needed to push his hands off and get him inside.
Micah’s feet were practically off the ground, and Van’s bloody hand never left Micah’s mouth, even when he was shoved down onto the bed.
“Don’t fight it. I don’t want this to hurt you.”
He said it with such a pain in his voice that Micah could almost make himself believe the man really did care, in his own twisted way.
But Micah did want to fight. He wanted to fight and struggle until there was nothing left for him to give. His instincts to fight and escape weren’t giving the strength he needed to fight back, but they were giving him the resolve to never quit.
Micah brought out his claws and fangs, small and weak though they might be. He tried to claw at Van’s face, but the man turned his head away every time, and he pinned Micah’s arms down onto his chest using his forearms.
Micah sank his teeth into Van’s palm next, biting down hard and hoping it would be enough pain to force the man’s hand away.
No, it was a mistake to do that because of the blood that splashed into his mouth, both from the open wound Van had created himself and from where Micah had bitten him.
He tried to turn away. He tried not to swallow the blood! Micah even thought of Stefan’s face to give him strength, but it wasn’t enough. He felt it happening, and it horrified him.
The blood trickled down his throat slowly at first, and as much as Micah wanted to, the instinct to swallow when there was something in his throat wouldn’t be ignored.
He swallowed again and again as more blood flowed into his mouth. The pressure from Van’s hand was more than starting to hurt his mouth as his lips were pressed hard against his teeth, but swallowing the blood felt worse.
Another betrayal to Stefan. Another nail in Micah’s heart.
Van pulled his hand away, quickly wiping his fingers against Micah’s lips. “I know this hurts, I’m sorry, but it’s almost over.”
“Wha—? Ow!” Micah yelled from the pain and the shock when Van’s sharper, longer teeth bit down hard on Micah’s palm and the back of his hand. He tried to yank his hand away, but even when Van removed his teeth, he held tightly to Micah’s wrist, his mouth latching onto Micah’s wound.
And Micah knew what he was doing even before he felt the suction and swallow from Van.
Micah tried and tried to pull his hand away, but he couldn’t.
“Stop! Stop it,” he cried, more helpless tears spilling down his cheeks, but his body felt as if he was giving up the fight. Van was too strong, and nothing Micah did mattered anyway.
He now had Van’s blood inside him, and Van was taking Micah’s blood. It was over. He’d failed.
Micah’s body slumped. He couldn’t move. His brain commanded him to keep up the fight, but something else, something more powerful, seemed to give in.
It was over. Micah had failed, and as much as he wanted Stefan to be here with him, he knew the man would never want him back after this.
No alpha wanted a spoiled mate.
He wouldn’t participate. Even if he couldn’t fight back, even if he was helpless against everything else Van did to him—and from the firm erection Micah felt against him, there was definitely more—Micah told himself he would not participate. He would do nothing more that would give Van the impression this was consensual in any way.
He was so ashamed. Part of him wished he could just fade away and die right then.
Van suddenly pushed himself off of Micah’s body with such an energy and force that Micah blinked out of his daze. His body was cold, and he didn’t understand why Van had flown off of him like Micah was on fire until he saw who was standing behind Van.
Holding the man by his golden hair was Stefan, and his eyes blazed with an angry red deeper than the blood Micah had just drank.
Chapter Eight
Stefan stared down at Micah, his mate, and as Micah stared back up at him, the tears in his eyes didn’t stop. They flowed faster down his cheeks, his face twisting in anguish, as if he were in real pain.
The sharp, agonizing cry that left Micah’s mouth, coupled with what Stefan had just walked in on, was enough to make his rage and hate spike higher than he’d ever felt in the whole of his life.
He’d once seen his clan’s home burned down, his parents murdered, and the alpha of his clan killed in front of his best friend, and nothing, none of those things was enough to put him over the edge he was on now.
“He’s mine now,” Van puffed, smiling as if he’d won a grand battle. “You can’t hurt him any—oof!”
Van shut up quickly when Stefan launched his fist into the man’s stomach.
He doubled over, and he might have fallen to his knees had Stefan not been holding him in place, forcing him to stay on his feet.
“You dirty, filthy, piece of shit,” Stefan hissed, and he knew he wasn’t going to stop until he made Van bleed from as many places on his body as he could get away with.
Stefan launched Van out of the tiny room, Van’s back slamming against the wall of the narrow hallway. Stefan followed him out there, grabbing him before his body barely had a chance to touch the ground.
He grabbed Van by his hair again, pulling him up and slamming his fist again and again into the man’s mouth and jaw.
When he heard a crack, it wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it should have been.
Stefan could no longer blame Lucian for his lack of self-control after beating the hell out of Van. Stefan now knew the rage that came with discovering his
mate in danger from this man.
Lucian was a saint for not having killed Van in the first place.
Stefan didn’t believe he had that level of restraint. He wanted blood.
Stefan grabbed Van by the same hand that already had some blood on it. He knew what Van had done with that blood, what he’d forced Micah to do, and Stefan bent the other dragon’s fingers back hard enough that he heard a snap.
Van shrieked, but it wasn’t enough.
“You tried to take my mate.”
Stefan launched his fist into Van’s nose, heard another cracking of bone, and it still wasn’t enough.
“You tried to take him from me.” Another fist in the man’s chest. “Tried to force yourself on an innocent omega!” Stefan punched him in the jaw again, and when Van went down to the floor, Stefan did the dishonorable thing and kicked the man in the ribs when he was on the ground. “You filthy pig! You do not deserve to be part of this clan!”
Stefan kicked him, again and again, until he was sure it would have made for a small miracle if none of those ribs were broken.
A few of them must have been shattered.
Stefan pulled his foot back for another hard kick, but he stopped himself. He didn’t want to, but he really might kill Van now.
The sounds of Micah’s crying in his old room made it so tempting, too delicious to turn away, but he had to.
Stefan was the second-in-command of this clan. It wasn’t his call whether anyone in the clan was put down.
Though it was his call for banishment. He did have that authority. Only Seth could override him, but he seriously doubted the red dragon would do so after he heard what had happened.
Stefan couldn’t stop himself. He made fresh again all the bruises that Lucian had put on the man’s face and body. Stefan felt a harsher pain against his knuckles when he punched Van in the mouth, but he didn’t stop punching until he was out of breath.
Even then, as bloody and swollen as Van was, Stefan couldn’t seem to knock his dumb ass out, and the man stared up at him defiantly.
