by Nicki Ruth
Jason’s Dilemma
Bonds of Damurios Book Two
Nicki Ruth
Jason’s Dilemma
Copyright ©2018 (Nicki Ruth)
All Rights Reserved.
Jason’s Dilemma is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design by Kelley York
Editing by Gina Wynn
Published by Nicki Ruth
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author's rights. Purchase only authorized editions. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please contact the author:[email protected].
About The Series
Jason’s Dilemma, Book Two in the Bonds of Damurios series, is a m/m paranormal romance.
It can be read as a standalone, but it’s recommended you read the first in series, Dark Blooded Desires.
Table of Contents
About The Series
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
About the Author
Chapter 1
“Is it even worth the trouble?” Her voice, once a source of comfort, floated like a whispering breeze across his ear.
His hands shook in response to the cold chill snaking up his spine. Memories he’d tried so hard to abandon plagued him with their return. He thought he’d buried those feelings, the never-ending anxiety, fear, and loneliness. Now, fearing his life was about to change irrevocably, he remembered the quiet weeping of the woman in a darkened room.
“How am I to care for one like him?” Her voice stole into his mind again.
She used to be a source of warmth and comfort. The smell of her—buttered bread and honey—enveloped him, even after all these years. Her face was a blur, but it was a face he would never see again after being left alone in a cold, sterile office. He’d shivered then in his threadbare clothes, afraid of what was happening.
“Ma!” he cried. “Don’t go. I’ll be good. I promise!”
Deep down he’d known; he was different, and that's why she never came back for him. Although too young to realize at the time, years later he understood what the silver coins she left with represented. His cries went unanswered, and since then, he’d lived in fear of his next loss. His life was a cold one, peppered with hunger and brutal beatings.
“Useless vermin. I said seventy fronar, not forty-nine, you piece of shit!” His master threw him against the wall in a hard-cracking thud.
He served another master and another. Each more demanding than the last, each sending him to another unknown future, until he got to the mines. He spent a lot of time alone, made to work but not allowed to play or even whisper. But he had a home, where there were others like him peering at each other with silent pleas.
“You smell different. What are you?” a quiet voice asked one dark night as they huddled against the cold. “My name is Krisa. Do you want to be friends?”
He grinned and eagerly nodded to large blinking eyes.
“What’s your name?”
“Jason,” he croaked.
“Shut up, Krisa! We don’t want to be friends with him,” a boy his age whispered.
“You shut up, Larx. I can be friends with whoever I want!”
The boy grumbled but said nothing else.
“Don’t worry about him. We can be friends,” she assured him. “Marise and Tomly are over there. They’re family, too.”
They didn't have much, but one night, years later, the five of them managed to escape their bitter misery. A ragtag bunch they were, and although he was still treated like an outcast in their group, made to do all the hard, dirty work, and given the scraps only when there was enough, he wasn’t alone. He had a family now. He belonged with them, to them. At least, that’s what he’d told himself, even when Larx abused him, and Krisa averted her eyes.
Fear and anxiety remained; he was still the rough unchiseled boulder set upon rounded pebbles. He didn’t know why he didn’t, couldn’t fit. Others felt it and kept him at a distance, and even despised him for what they sensed as unfamiliar and foreign.
“Look, Krisa. Did you see his eyes flash? He’s a freak, I tell you!”
But his new family tolerated him, kept him as one of them, and he was happy for it, despite his loneliness and growing unease. But it was only a matter of time until the façade shattered.
And it did.
He tried to defend them as best he could, Krisa, Larx, the others, but he was no match for the marauders who stormed the small spaceship they’d managed to steal, even when they threw him first toward their oncoming enemies. His family was gone.
But he was the lucky one.
Quiet blackness had surrounded him, and he burned from within. The pain was so intense, as if his insides were melting, deconstructing. He opened his eyes to the gaze of a stranger.
“Hush. You’re safe now,” the smiling man said.
Warmth cocooned him, a welcome to the cold he was accustomed to, and an unexpected peace washed over him. The anxiety he’d lived with ever since he could remember fluttered in his chest but didn’t overwhelm him. He must be dead, too, with the smiling stranger there to guide him to the afterlife.
Then, a vicious thirst gripped him.
“It’s time. You’ve healed nicely, but now you must drink. And I promise, you won't be alone or hungry again,” said the stranger as he scooped Jason up and pressed him into the crook of his neck.
Jason found himself swallowing the most delicious liquid he’d ever tasted. It tingled on his tongue and scorched a path through his veins.
It was a new beginning. He was made vampire.
The stranger, his sire and father, saved him from a bleak life of hunger and loneliness and gave him safety and companionship. Gradually, the dark grip of fear and anxiousness he’d lived with melted away with his old life, and he accepted his new one. And a new family who claimed him as their own. He was made one of them, in blood and bond, and he cherished it.
But now, he found himself in the same place he thought he’d left behind, fear and panic choking him once more, trespassing into his thoughts, and giving him fevered, sleepless nights. It was all about to come to an end. Again.
∞∞∞
“I can’t let this happen.” Jason looked around at what was left of the room he’d trashed and held his head in his trembling hands.
A long, sorrowful moan escaped him, rippling through the stillness of the cluttered space. H
is panic registered only second to the ache in his head that wouldn't let up; it kept pounding against his skull as if the beast inside him hammered for release. His gaze rested on the soft, white, downy feathers littered on the floor around him.
The changes to him had come with heightened senses, his hearing so acute he could hear his bloodbrother, Brandr, pacing on the soft carpet down the hall. His already keen sense of smell was sharper, making it difficult for him to stand his own foul stench, cured over days of hiding in his quarters.
Jason fingered one of the feathers next to him. It was soft and light. How was it possible it came from him? That any of these things were coming out of him. Brandr had already demanded Jason return from the confines of his rooms if he wanted to sate his thirst. But he couldn't face him, not yet. Not until he got rid of . . .
He sighed and rose from the floor, reaching for the bloodied knife on the table. They needed to go. The feathers, the tail. Everything. He wouldn’t allow himself to continue this way.
He would not become some abomination.
And most importantly of all, he wouldn’t lose his family. He would not be abandoned again. Already, he’d lost one family and wouldn’t lose another. He reached behind and sliced into the offending appendage protruding from his back. He gritted his teeth as pain shot across his shoulders and down his arms and legs. Blood poured out, running steadily down his back, but he wouldn't stop.
He needed to get them off his body.
He needed to return to normal.
His head throbbed harder in retribution for his actions. Bright light flashed across his vision, accompanied by a ferocious explosion of pain in his head that caused him to cry out. The knife clattered to the ground, and he slumped over, panting, waiting for relief.
Every time he tried to remove the ugly things, blinding pain debilitated him, robbing him of breath, and rendering him almost unconscious. It was as if the beast within was enraged at being maimed.
The energy it took for Jason to resist the beast trying to claw its way out drained him. However, he couldn't meet Brandr’s ultimatum to leave his living quarters and fetch the blood of his sire until he’d conquered the deformity. But the pain and fevers he’d experienced ever since the beginning of the Dāmming—the period every five hundred years when Damunaki vampires like him lost their supernatural abilities—were fierce and debilitating, leaving him weak. He needed to feed.
Jason inched closer to the door. The smell of a small spot of blood just outside was enough to cause his fangs to descend and threatened the fragile control he had over himself.
His bloodlust heightened, increasing his desperation, and he cursed Brandr and his heavy-handedness. Wrapping his arms around himself, he willed his resolve not to abandon him. But with the constant pounding in his head his sole companion, he was afraid he would soon lose his mind.
He cursed the monster within him again, with its tail and feathered limbs, and sobbed, afraid of what was happening to him, afraid to face Brandr and his sire . . . afraid to see the revulsion in their eyes. It hurt to think of what he would lose after wanting so hard to belong, after finally having a place, a home. But what could he do? He was helpless.
He couldn't stop it, couldn't do anything.
∞∞∞
As he rested on his knees, Jason’s chest heaved savoring the delicious flavor of his sire’s blood. He’d been unable to hold out and charged from his rooms moments before. Now his head was clearing, and calm returned to his body. He swallowed and slowly opened his eyes, squeezing the bottle that had contained his sustenance.
His heart pounded at what he knew would greet him. Although he’d tried his hardest to keep his secret from his bloodbrother, he succumbed to his bloodthirst. Raising his head, he held his breath. Brandr was silent, but his icy blue eyes were like moons on his face. Jason grimaced, imagining what was going through his brother’s head.
“Brandr, please. Please, don’t tell father. I . . . I cannot bear for anyone else to see me like this,” he sobbed, his head hung low. “I d . . . don’t know what’s happening to me.”
Brandr knelt next to him, fingering the wing of feathers at his back. He began to murmur about how amazing and magnificent it was, that Jason was a winged warrior, fierce and brave.
Jason didn’t understand what Brandr meant. He was a monster—some kind of vampire hybrid, at best. He just wanted things to go back to how they were.
“Please, Brandr, don't say anything,” he begged again, looking at Brandr, who frowned at his words.
Brandr must have seen the despair on Jason’s face, for his expression softened. “Jason, we should let Alexios know. He’s your sire, he may know what’s happening to you,” Brandr responded gently.
Jason vigorously shook his head, grabbing Brandr’s thigh. “No,” he croaked out. “I . . . I’ll go and get rid of this. I know I can.”
“Jason.” Brandr squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll figure this out together. Promise me you won't do anything rash.”
Anger sprouted in him. Why did they always believe him to be ‘rash’? He wasn’t a child.
He moved to rise, but Brandr stopped him.
“I meant what I said. I’ll help you.”
“I can take care of myself!” Jason snapped and shoved past Brandr, wings dragging behind him.
“I’ll inform your sire if you leave and refuse my help,” Brandr countered. “And you know he’ll find you. Maybe even put you to sleep in the vault.”
Jason froze. Rage burned through him. How dare Brandr threaten him this way?
“Please, let me help. I don’t think it's a good idea for you to be on your own for your first Dāmming without knowing what’s happening,” Brandr offered softly.
It was his way of apology since the stoic Viking wasn’t good with words. Jason understood this and unclenched his fists as his anger receded. Instead, fear shook loose once again from hidden crevices of his being when he thought about facing his sire. A heavy hand settled on his shoulder, and Jason’s chest grew tight.
For days he’d carried this burden, suffering in silence. He wanted relief, and his brother was offering to help. But he feared knowing what he was becoming and the fallout, his sire’s reaction, and losing his place among his family. He trembled at the thought of being sent away. Rejected again.
Brandr came to stand before him, and Jason leaned forward, resting his head on his brother’s chest, trying in vain to stifle the sobs wracking his body. They grew louder when the heavy embrace of meaty arms squeezed him close. He relaxed into the comfort offered, and for the first time, the wings fluttered.
∞∞∞
Brandr had finally convinced Jason to head out to the club. A good, strong valmir-infused drink would help. At least, this is what Brandr thought. A few valmir blood cocktails would give them a good buzz and help Jason relax a bit.
Valmir was a local root that, when brewed right, yielded intoxicating effects in vampires like alcohol did for humans. Although he’d never seen Jason drink publicly, Brandr wanted to have him sufficiently distracted while he thought of a way to persuade him to call their sire. Alexios was off-planet in search of Marius, their bloodbrother, who’d been lost in a magical portal opened by a fae priestess.
Alexios didn’t need another problem to worry about, but Jason was obviously undergoing some kind of supernatural transformation. This Dāmming was proving to be full of surprises. Brandr wasn’t sure how long this Dāmming would last, but its end was something that needed to come sooner rather than later. He was always on edge during this period, and Jason’s . . . dilemma wasn’t helping.
“A round of your best valmir,” he said to the weretiger waitress when she came to their table.
Jason kept his gaze downcast and his body hunched over. They’d spent some time folding and binding his wings to his back so he could put a large coat over them. Jason wasn't keen be out, after having holed himself up in his rooms for days. Brandr even had to convince him to take a shower.
; “So, is there anything else you want to order?” Brandr asked.
Jason simply shook his head, looking pensive.
“Everything will be all right,” he kept reassuring his younger brother.
Brandr liked to think he was the closest to Jason. They certainly spent a lot of time together, since Marius always seemed to want Alexios’ attention to himself. But that was Marius. He was completely devoted to, and obviously infatuated with, Alexios.
Brandr wondered how things would turn out now Davina was in their lives. He’d tried to get Jason interested in discussing the new dynamics in their little family—Jason was always up for a good bit of gossip, given his wild imagination—but he tensed and shuddered at the mention of their names and looked on the verge of tears. Brandr had quickly changed the topic. He didn’t know how to deal with a melancholic Jason. He wasn't good with things like that; he preferred his battle axe and the occasional company of a buxom woman under him.
Their drinks arrived, and Jason simply swirled the contents of his glass. Brandr took a swig of his and let out a satisfied sigh. This was good valmir.
“It's crowded tonight. Looks like—”
“I shouldn’t be here. Someone might notice. Let’s go.” Jason cut him off.
Just as he said that, an attractive woman slipped into the seat beside him. “Hello boys. Would you like some company?” she asked as she winked at Jason, who frowned and jerked backward.
She was quite attractive. Dark hair cascaded in curls down her shoulders and she had a pretty smile and large, bountiful breasts. Normally, she’d be the type both he and Jason would be interested in, but tonight was not a night for this kind of conquest.
“I’m sorry, lass. We aren’t looking for company tonight,” Brandr said to the beauty.
Jason turned to him, a fierce scowl marring his brow.
She pouted and leaned forward, her breasts pushing upwards, out of her tight bodice. “Are you sure? I promise we’ll have a good time,” she flirted, clearly taken with Jason, who ignored her and kept staring at Brandr.
