The touch of his cold hand, separated from my flesh only by the thin material of my panties, sucked the breath from my lungs. I opened my legs for him and reached back to loop an arm around his neck.
When I heard Ziggy make another soft groan, I snapped back to reality. “Wait, wait.”
“Now what’s wrong?” His annoyance was unmistakable this time. Cyrus swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, pulling his shirt off in one agitated motion. “Do we need scented candles and Barry White? How about mirrors on the ceiling?”
“Don’t be angry,” I said, a little tearfully, and I insisted to myself it was nerves and exhaustion that made me react in such a way. “This is just so…new.”
With a deep sigh, he removed his belt and dropped it to the floor, kicking it aside. “I know. And I know I come across as a tad impatient. But I want you, Carrie. I’m not used to waiting for gratification.”
“I’m tired,” I admitted, not caring if it upset him. “Let me sleep today, and I promise we’ll…you know, tomorrow.”
He smiled. “I suppose I can wait one more day.”
Biting my lip, I looked to Ziggy, who still lay paralyzed on the bed. “But you have to do something for me.”
I’d expected him to be insulted, possibly enraged, but he seemed pleasantly surprised. “You want to make a deal with me? Fine. For what price will I buy a night of sin with you, my princess?”
I wished he wouldn’t call me that, but now was not the time to argue. I pointed at Ziggy. “I want to keep him.”
Cyrus arched an eyebrow. “Keep him?”
“As a pet. He was my first victim. I want a souvenir.”
I held my breath as I waited for his reply. After a long moment, he finally spoke. “I don’t see why not. You may have your trophy.”
“Thank you.” I kept my eyes downcast and let him kiss me on the forehead to seal our agreement. As I walked toward the door, I heard the rustle of the mattress sinking under his weight.
I turned to see him stretched out beside Ziggy, tracing the line of the boy’s bicep with a clawed finger.
“We had an agreement,” I said cautiously.
Cyrus laughed. “Don’t worry, Carrie, I won’t kill him. He’s in good hands.”
I didn’t want to ask what those hands would be doing. I couldn’t spare Ziggy from whatever perverse activities my sire had planned. I believed Cyrus wouldn’t kill him, though, and that was all I cared about for the moment.
I went to the door and looked back once more. Ziggy’s eyes locked on mine, pleading.
I could only leave and close the door behind me.
Thirteen
Revelations and Recriminations
Back in my room, I practically ripped the gown from my body. My fingers shook and my chest ached with sobs as I struggled to hold them back.
What was Ziggy doing here? He’d had an awkward confrontation with Nathan, but that didn’t explain why he’d come here. Not when he knew who lived here. Unless…
But he couldn’t have been running to me.
I put on my robe and rang the velvet bell pull to summon Clarence. He appeared minutes later, looking crisp and pressed as always.
“Don’t you ever sleep?” I asked as he nodded politely to me.
His face was humorless. “You needed something?”
I drew myself up as regally as I could manage in a bathrobe. “Yes. The Master—” I stumbled on the word. “He has a guest with him in his chambers. I’d like to be informed when he’s…finished. And bring the young gentleman here.”
Clarence shook his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am. I don’t involve myself with the pets.”
“He’s not a pet,” I snapped. “He’s a friend. If you don’t wish to do it yourself, tell the guards to deliver him to me.”
I thought I saw a spark of admiration in his eyes, but he didn’t smile. “Yes, ma’am. Will you require anything else?”
“Paper and a pen. Clean sheets. And medical supplies, any you might have. Gauze, disinfectant, clean towels—”
He cut me off. “I’m sure I can find an adequate first aid kit for you in the guardhouse.”
I wasn’t sure how to dismiss him. “You do that, then. Right now.”
After he’d gone, I went to my bathroom and ran the tap water until it was as hot as it could get. I grabbed a hand towel from the rack and plunged it into the water, then hurried to the parlor. I wiped off the wooden arms and carved back of the antique sofa, making several return trips to the sink when the cloth got cold. I repeated the process with the marble end table, and covered it with a clean towel. It wasn’t sterile, but it would have to do.
Clarence returned, and I nearly knocked him over to get at the medical kit he bore. I asked him to leave the folded sheets on the sofa. He surprised me by spreading them out carefully, skillfully tucking the corners around the odd shape.
I popped the latch on the beer cooler that contained my necessary supplies. Taking a seat, I examined the contents. There were all types of sutures, tape, gauze, vials of drugs, and even surgical instruments in sealed, sanitary packages. “This is what he gives the guards here?”
“He doesn’t want them going to the hospital. Raises too many questions,” Clarence said.
I looked up sharply. “What if they die?”
“Then some of the guards get burial duty.”
I looked out the window. The sky was turning pink. “What about the pets?”
“They don’t bury them out there. Guards go behind the guardhouse, that’s out past the maze. Pets go in the cellar. That’s my job.”
“The cellar? In the house?” I imagined piles of bodies festering below us. It made my skin crawl.
“In barrels. I fill ’em with cement and every other week the guards go out to the lake and dump them,” he answered.
“Like the mob.” If Lake Michigan ever dried up, I was willing to bet they’d find hundreds of such barrels. And crates, and probably shoes perfectly preserved in bricks of concrete. “Well, thank you, Clarence. That was enlightening.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for your young man” was all he said. Then he left.
I took the paper and pen he’d brought and went to my bedroom. I didn’t know how I intended to get the letter to Nathan, or what I should even say. “Hey, don’t be so hard on your runaway gay son” didn’t sound quite assertive enough, and “Get over it, you big, stupid baby” was more aggressive than I’d like to be.
Groaning in frustration, I went to the window. I’d have to close the curtains against the sunlight soon, but in this faint predawn, my gaze fell on something I hadn’t noticed before. A slight gap in the ivy-covered rock wall that surrounded the property. A gate. There were no guards.
I wanted to run downstairs and check it out immediately, but bursting into flames didn’t seem like the best way to start the day. I shut the curtains and went back to my letter.
Nathan,
Ziggy is with me. Wait for me at the gate in the sidewall after sundown. Don’t be late, I won’t be able to meet you after Cyrus wakes up.
Carrie
Dawn came, but I couldn’t sleep. Not until I knew Ziggy had survived. Eventually, exhaustion overtook me as I dozed off in one of the parlor chairs. It was around nine when I woke to the sound of labored footsteps coming through the door. Ziggy hung weakly from Clarence’s frail shoulders as the older man guided him in.
“Give me a hand,” the butler rasped, and I hurried to his side. Ziggy whimpered as he leaned against me, and I felt his nakedness through the sheet he’d been wrapped in. When I laid him on the couch, I saw the fresh bites that marred almost every inch of his skin.
And I saw the one I’d made. My stomach soured.
“Ma’am,” Clarence said, bowing stiffly as he handed a bundle of clothes toward me. It was Ziggy’s borrowed pants. On top was a folded note.
I looked from the livid purple bruise of a hand print around Ziggy’s neck to the gleaming white paper and snatched the clothi
ng and note from Clarence’s hands. Shaking with rage, I unfolded the missive.
I only said I wouldn’t kill him. Enjoy what’s left.
I crumpled the note in my fist. “Clarence, if I needed you to send something to someone, would you do it?”
“It depends on what that something is.” He eyed Ziggy’s gray body as if mentally calculating his weight.
“No, not him. He’ll be fine.” I couldn’t ask the butler to risk his life freeing Ziggy, nor did I feel comfortable just turning the kid loose on the streets. I would hand him over to one person, and one alone. “I need you to deliver a note.”
He appeared reluctant. “You could ask the Master. He has messengers.”
“No. Cyrus can’t know about this.” Almost without thinking, I smoothed back a damp strand of Ziggy’s hair. His gaze darted over my face and his mouth moved slightly, but I could tell the drug hadn’t yet worn off completely. Had he been given another dose?
I wanted to be able to smile, to give him some reassurance, but I couldn’t. I turned back to Clarence. “Please. I want to notify this boy’s father. I want to get him out of here.”
Ziggy’s body spasmed. Great, I thought, he’s allergic to whatever Cyrus gave him, and he’s going to have a seizure. To my relief, the twitches that followed were much tamer, a sign that his muscles were slowly coming back to awareness after their paralysis.
“Give me your letter,” Clarence said somewhat reluctantly. “And tell me the address.”
“1320 Wealthy Avenue,” I said, choking back tears of relief. “The note’s on the table there. Do you want me to write down the number?”
“No, ma’am. 1320 Wealthy Avenue. Will you require anything else?”
A declaration of loyalty like the knights gave Arthur in all those Camelot movies would have been nice, but I doubted I would get one from Clarence. The only guarantee I had was the fact he hated Cyrus and probably wouldn’t go out of his way to make his master happy.
Clarence nodded as though he’d read and agreed with my thought, then he left without another word. Once he had gone, I knelt at Ziggy’s side.
His eyes searched my face, and his mouth worked feebly to speak. I laid my hand on his chest, hoping the touch comforted him. “Ziggy, I believe the drugs he gave you are wearing off. Did he give you another dose? Blink once for yes.”
With visible effort, his eyes closed briefly, then snapped open.
“You have some bite marks I think might need cleaning. Can I examine you?”
Two blinks and an angry glare.
I sighed. “I’m sorry I bit you. I really am. But I couldn’t let Cyrus know who you were. He’d kill you. You know I wouldn’t have done it in any other circumstance.”
Two blinks.
“Ziggy, please. I don’t want you to get an infection I can easily prevent.”
After a long moment, one blink.
I went to the bathroom and scrubbed my hands thoroughly. Then, with the consideration I’d give a sexual assault case in the E.R., I began my examination.
“I’m going to take this sheet off of you, but I’ll rearrange it so you’re not completely uncovered. Right now, all I’m doing is evaluating the severity of your injuries.”
And some were pretty severe. Long, but fairly shallow cuts latticed his chest. Hideous, purple bruises darkened his skin, and claw marks showed where Cyrus had gripped the boy’s shoulders. When I moved lower, I saw bite marks, not inflicted by fangs, but blunt, human teeth, on the inside of his thighs. I turned my head away.
When I looked back, I saw a tear roll from Ziggy’s eye. He wouldn’t look at me.
A few hours ago, he’d been indulging in what looked like some pretty terrific sex. Then he’d run away from the only home he’d ever known, just to come here and be violated and humiliated by Cyrus. And me.
I debraded the bites and scratches and covered the worst with squares of gauze. “Do you hurt…anywhere else?”
He answered with two blinks, but croaked a barely audible “No.”
I went to wash my hands and snag an extra blanket from my bed. When I came back, I tucked Ziggy in, then dropped wearily into a chair. He spoke again, with more strength behind his voice this time. “Thank you.”
I heard the emotion in his words and tried to sound casual. “It’s okay. If you need anything else, just let me know.”
“Some aspirin would be nice. I’m sore all over.” He swallowed with a wince.
I looked through the medicine kit and found a bottle of acetaminophen. “This will have to do. I don’t want to thin your blood, with all those…wounds.”
I couldn’t say bites. I crushed the pills into quarters so they’d go down easier and got a paper cup of water from the bathroom sink. Slipping my hand behind his head, I helped him to ingest the pills. “Why did you come here?”
He choked a little on the water, and it roughened his voice. He sounded like a man, not the boy who’d attacked me in the bookshop. “You saw what happened. He kicked me out.”
“That doesn’t explain why you’d come here. You knew who lived here.”
“I knew you lived here.” His arm jerked in an effort to wipe away his tears, but he couldn’t yet control his limbs. “I thought you’d let me stay. I didn’t know you were going to feed off me and let him do w-what he did to me.” The last part came out as a shamed whisper, and he closed his eyes. “I love irony, when it doesn’t happen to me.”
He felt he was being punished. I wanted to weep for him, trapped in his prison of self-loathing, but he didn’t need that now. He would shun my pity and turn away from me. Then he’d have no allies left. “You didn’t deserve this.”
“Yeah, well. That’s your opinion.” He laughed bitterly, and more tears rolled silently from his eyes to wet the hair at his temples.
“It’s not an opinion. It’s a fact,” I told him sternly. “You didn’t deserve what he did to you.”
He looked away, and I could practically feel the blame radiating from him.
I cleared my throat softly and decided to change the subject. “Ziggy, when you got here, did you tell anyone you knew me?”
“Yeah. The guards at the door. I told them I was looking for the doctor, that I knew you from the hospital.” He sniffled. “Don’t worry, I didn’t mention the Movement. I figured they would have probably killed me.”
Rage brought me to my feet. “I’ll be back in a minute.”
With enough strength to splinter the hinges, I wrenched the secret door open and strode into Cyrus’s chamber. Two guards stood at his bedroom door, but they stepped aside and even opened it to admit me.
Cyrus was sprawled naked across the bed, the sheets and blankets in a tangled heap on the floor. Blood spattered the linen beneath him, and he snored in the depths of a contented sleep.
I could kill him right now and he’d never see it coming. The thought came before I had a chance to guard my mind from him, and I tensed, waiting for a response. His breath hitched, but he didn’t wake.
I stepped to the side of the bed, intending to wake him, but his arm shot out and caught my wrist. He pulled me down and pinned me beneath him.
“You’re mad enough to kill me, then?” he murmured against my neck. “You should have brought a weapon, because I can guarantee you won’t be able to do it with your bare hands.”
I didn’t struggle. “How could you do that to him?”
“How could you lie to me?” He twisted a hand in my hair, wrenching my head back painfully. “‘Who is he?’ you asked, as though you hadn’t the faintest clue that he’d come asking after you. As if I were stupid enough not to notice you’d cut yourself off from the blood tie, become so closed down to me that it was obvious you hid something. Who is this man to you, Carrie?”
I wanted to spit in his face. “He isn’t a man. He’s practically a child. And he’s a friend of mine. He was looking for a place to stay.”
“And I should just open my home to every derelict who wishes to show up?” He roll
ed off of me, and I pointedly ignored his nakedness.
“You do for your pets.” He’d grown aroused as he lay on top of me, and I clenched my teeth to fight the mirrored feeling from our invisible connection. “Why should it be different for him?”
“It isn’t.” Cyrus reached for the crystal bell that lay on his nightstand and he rung it sharply. The door opened, and the two sentries moved into the room. Cyrus pointed to the bedding on the floor, and they wordlessly began to untangle it.
Cyrus reclined against the pillows, utterly shameless in his nudity. “I only did what I would have done with any of my pets. I took what I wanted from him, and in return he’ll get what he wants from me.”
The guards laid the covers over us both, and Cyrus pulled me into his arms.
Though I was still angry, his touch felt so good that I didn’t resist him. I rested my head on his chest. “Promise me you won’t do that to him again.”
I felt his breath on the top of my head. “Fine. I won’t touch him against his will. But I won’t promise not to try to bend that will. He was a lot of fun.”
“I don’t want to hear about it,” I snapped.
He chuckled and stroked the exposed skin at the neck of my robe. “You’d be disappointed, anyway. I don’t kiss and tell.”
I started to rise. “I’m going back to check on him. He’s pretty beat up. But you already know that.”
“Stay.” It wasn’t a request.
“You there,” he called to one of the guards. “Blast, I’ve forgotten your name.”
“Thomas, sir,” the guard replied quickly.
Cyrus nodded. “Thomas. Go and see to the young man in Carrie’s room. He’s in your care today.”
As the guard moved to do as his master bid, I called after him. “If he complains about the quality of care you give him, I’ll kill you myself. Understood?”
Thomas didn’t even blink at the warning, but I felt Cyrus’s pride through the blood tie. “Very good, Carrie. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were enjoying your role as lady of the house.”
Blood Ties Book One: The Turning Page 18
