Duncan frowned into his glass. “You can’t regenerate your body parts or anything?”
Emil smiled at the question. “We’re not amphibians.”
The cop shrugged. “Just wondering. I suppose it’s good news you aren’t that indestructible.”
The bit of humor already draining from him, Emil would have returned to his lazy position except Mackie came rushing in.
Val went on high alert. “What is it?”
Mackie went straight toward him and wrapped his arms around his waist. “I think something’s wrong with Jase.”
“What?” Emil jumped to his feet, all trace of ennui gone in a flash. His heart raced and blood pounded in his head. “What’s wrong with him?”
Instead of answering him directly, Mackie looked at his husband. “What have you learned in your background check of him and Washburn?”
“Nothing of note.” He ran his palm down Mackie’s head. “What has you concerned?”
“Jase just told me that he and Washburn have been together for years. I mean, he backpedaled and said he meant months, but I’m not buying it.”
Years. Emil didn’t have to do much math. “He’s only eighteen.” He was surprised at how calm he sounded, given the fact that his fangs were starting to descend.
Val shook his head. “I don’t know. According to my deep dive, Jase is who Washburn says he is and was born a little more than eighteen years ago in a small Louisiana town. His father died when he was young. His mother remarried then died some years later. I couldn’t find any record of his graduating high school, but lots of humans don’t finish their education.”
“He said he’d run away because he was gay,” Mackie informed everyone.
“If that’s true, there was no police report of his being missing.”
Duncan stood. “Maybe his stepfather didn’t bother reporting it. If he didn’t like Jase’s orientation, he was probably glad to see the back of him. It’s an all-too-common tale, and I’m preaching to the choir, I know,” he added with a scratch of his head.
“I think he was telling the truth the first time,” Mackie insisted, his face becoming pinched. “And I think things are getting out of control with Washburn. That boy is hurting and if he’s a happy slave… Well,” he huffed, “I’m not buying it. He’s in trouble, I’m telling you.”
That was all Emil needed to hear. His fangs dropped and he yanked off his jacket as he tore out of the room. He heard his name called as if from a distance. He paid no mind. His focus was on getting to Jase. With this blood rushing through his veins, he let loose his natural strength and speed. He took the back stairs to the second floor without thought of any humans possibly seeing him. Nothing mattered except getting to the boy and stopping whatever horror was happening to him. The primitive instinct to protect had taken over him, body and brain. His vision was clouded with images of tearing a man to shreds.
He bounded up the stairs in a blur and punched through the hallway door. Scent carried him unerringly to the right room. He kicked this door open hard enough to send it hanging off its hinges. As he entered the room, the roar he’d been holding back escaped past his lips. A tableau froze in front of him. A naked man stood holding an equally naked and kneeling boy by his hair. They both turned startled eyes on him that quickly turned into terror.
Emil’s gaze homed in on a red blotch blooming on Jase’s cheek. The sight robbed him of whatever rational thought was left in his head. Going straight for Washburn, he was on him in a millisecond, grabbing the guy by the throat and yanking him away from Jase. A squeal was cut short by Emil pressing his fingers into the soft flesh and lifting the human to eye level. He opened his mouth and hissed, letting his fangs and his fury show. Washburn’s eyes bulged and his lips flapped in a noiseless blubber. The acrid smell of piss hit Emil’s nose, but he was too focused on the scent of fear and the panicked pounding of the human’s heart.
I will kill you. I will tear your flesh from your bones and eat every bite with relish.
The primitive thoughts flickered through his mind as he propelled his enemy back against the nearest wall. He didn’t bother to expose the man’s throat, having no interest in ingesting his blood. He only wanted to make it flow and send the sadist to his death so that he could never again touch the beautiful boy and make him hurt.
“Emil!” Alex’s voice barely cut through the fog of Emil’s righteous anger.
Multiple fingers encircled his arms and tugged in an effort to get him to let go. He hissed even more and twisted, batted at the men attached to the grasping fingers with his free hand, to no avail. Then he lunged forward to take a bite out of the man’s reddened face. An arm got in his way so he latched on to cloth instead of flesh. With a growl, he shook free like an enraged animal and tried again. More hands and more shouting and too many people pulling his arms and waist, prying his fingers loose… He fought them all until a quiet sobbing somehow cut both through the noise around him and clambering inside his head.
Emil opened his hand and let the human drop from his grip. He stumbled back, vaguely aware that not only Alex and Val had been wrestling him, but Duncan and Harry, as well. None of that mattered. His attention was taken by the sight of Jase curled on the floor in Mackie’s arms. The boy was staring at Emil with wide, bleary eyes that spoke of horror and misery—and fear. Fear of Emil, of course, because he stood there as he really was—the alien, the vampire. There was no hiding that fact anymore.
“Jesus fucking Christ, he’s gone into cardiac arrest.” That was Duncan talking about Washburn, although Emil hardly cared.
Emil barely spared the cop and the others a glance. They had Washburn laid out and there were efforts at chest compression and mouth-to-mouth. He could have told them not to bother. If the man survived, Emil was only going to pick up where he left off and kill him. He would simply make sure to do it somewhere Jase couldn’t see. He kept his gaze on the boy, who wasn’t making any sound, although tears ran down his face—a face marred by signs of violence visited upon it. He stared back at Emil in the most forthright way he’d ever done since they’d met. But it was the kind of attention a prey animal gave to a predator, making sure he knew where the danger was and what it was doing at all times.
Emil wanted to go reassure him that he was safe, yet knew his touch was the last thing the human wanted. Besides, Mackie was on the job, making soothing noises as he held Jase. Val’s husband didn’t bother to hide his ire at Emil, giving him a look that would have made the strictest of teachers envious. Although he internally grimaced at the fair rebuke, Emil wasn’t going to regret what he’d done. Never.
A hand landed on his arm. “Emil.”
“What, Alex?” He didn’t take his eyes off Jase.
“Washburn is dead.”
“Good.”
There was a deep sigh. “Yes, well…I appreciate your feelings on the matter, but it does raise some problems.”
“Yeah, I’m sure it does. He’s cold,” he added when he noticed goosebumps raised on Jase’s thigh.
He went over to the couch and grabbed a blanket lying on it. Rows of white powder were on the end table, along with a bottle of some kind of pills and a mostly empty fifth of vodka. He ignored them and carried the blanket over to the boys. Jase flinched at his approach, which hurt Emil to see, even though it was to be expected and was entirely reasonable.
He held the blanket out to Mackie. “Cover him.” He waited until the boy had complied before turning to Alex. “I didn’t think I’d managed to choke him.”
Duncan stood over the splayed body. “You didn’t, although the finger marks are going to be hard to explain. His heart gave out.”
Emil grinned with bitter satisfaction. “I’d like to think I frightened him to death, but the drugs over there probably had something to do with it.”
The cop raised his eyebrows before going to the end table. He peered down at the powder, picked up the medicine bottle and sighed. “Cocaine and boner pills with a whole lot of booze thr
own in. I suppose that would do it, especially if you add it all with a monster attacking you with murderous intent as the final chaser.”
Emil nodded then looked at Alex. “I will not apologize. He’s been raping that boy for years. He got what he deserved.”
With raised eyebrows, Alex said, “We don’t know for sure about that. You jumped the gun before we could get to the bottom of it.”
Emil folded his hands in front of himself, mostly because he’d only just realized that his fury had made him hard and he didn’t want to flash that thing in front of Jase. “Ask him, then.”
Alex didn’t have to. It was Mackie who did. “Jase, sweetie,” he said in a gentle voice. “Please tell us how long you were with Washburn. You’re not in trouble, you know. We just need the truth.”
A few seconds ticked by. Emil didn’t think the boy would respond. He didn’t dare look at him for fear of terrorizing the traumatized human more. Then came the answer, barely audible.
“Three years.”
A shudder ran through Emil, hard enough to make his bones ache. He walked over to where Harry still knelt beside Washburn. “Are you sure he’s dead?”
Harry blinked at him. “I am.”
“Pity. I would have liked to have killed him.”
Val placed a hand on his shoulder. “For all intents and purposes, you did, dude.”
“Not in a way that was satisfying.”
“Yeah, but in a way that at least hasn’t sent the kid completely into a catatonic state. You really should be focusing on cleaning that shit-show up rather than wishing for bloody justice.” Val stepped back and looked pointedly where Jase still sat curled in Mackie’s arms.
“Fair point.” Emil took a few deep breaths to calm himself. He wasn’t going to help Jase by allowing his thoughts to be clouded with fury. That had already landed them in a difficult predicament.
He turned to Duncan. “Can you do something about this?” He jerked his thumb toward the body.
The cop wasn’t wearing a happy face, nor should he be. So far, he’d only been asked to cover up the war with Dracul, something that didn’t sit well with him, yet was justified because it helped humanity. This time, it was a personal matter. Emil couldn’t explain away what he’d done on the basis of it serving a greater good. It didn’t, although Washburn’s removal from society was definitely a positive. Could Emil really expect the man to sweep this event under the rug?
With a grimace, Duncan replied, “If you’d killed him outright, I’d be in a fucking quandary about this. As it happens, I can twist the facts a bit. I mean he was a middle-aged guy who looks like he was a good friend of saturated fats and rarely hit the gym. If an autopsy confirms that he was ingesting cocaine, et cetera, right before his heart gave out, I can’t see that your frightening him is all that relevant.” He huffed out a breath. “And I can probably keep the kid out of my report, too. His involvement is ancillary at best.”
That last part relieved Emil as nothing else had. “Thanks, Duncan. I appreciate that. He’s…ah…been through enough,” he added with a quick glance at Jase. Those wide eyes were still locked on him.
“Yeah, well…get him out of here, please,” Duncan said, taking out his phone. “I need to call the coroner.” Before he punched in the numbers, he also glanced at Jase. “Hey, kid, you understand I’m a cop and I’d have you out of here in a heartbeat if you were in any danger, yeah?”
Jase didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at Duncan. His focus remained on Emil in a way that was starting to freak him out. It was as if the boy’s whole universe was centered on Emil’s face.
Harry approached. “I should check him out. He’s taken a beating to his cheek at a minimum and is probably in need of something to calm his nerves, given everything that’s happened.” When he took another step toward Jase, however, the human shrank back into Mackie and whimpered. There was almost a pleading look in his eyes, as if he expected Emil to protect him. That made no sense. Emil was the monster here. In comparison, Harry held the appearance of a kindly uncle.
Nevertheless, Emil blocked Harry with his arm. “It’s okay. I think an exam can wait until tomorrow. He needs rest now. I’ll take him to my room, and if you can bring me something to give him, like a pill, I’ll see that he takes it.”
“Very well,” Harry murmured.
Emil stepped forward with his breath held. It was a crazy idea to think he could simply sweep Jase up and take him to his room. Being with him—the freaky monster with the red eyes and long fangs that had come close to sinking into a man’s face—had to be last thing the human boy would want. As far as he knew, the monster was coming for him next, the reassurances of a cop in the back pocket of the monsters notwithstanding. Yet, instinct had Emil slowly advancing toward the boy. He kept his arms to his side and made his face blank, trying to appear as safe as possible.
He stopped about a foot away, still not making any moves to touch Jase. “Can you stand?”
When Jase continued to stare at him mutely, Mackie interceded. “Here, sweetie, let me help you.” He tried to get both of them to their feet and failed. Jase’s limbs were floppy and the boy’s glassy-eyed look confirmed that he was leaving himself as dead weight for Mackie to manage.
“Thanks, Mackie,” Emil said with his gaze remaining on Jase, “I’ve got him.”
Although Mackie shot him a dubious look, he nevertheless backed away. With the slowest, most careful movements he could muster, Emil bent down and slid one arm around Jase’s waist and the other under his knees. The parts of the boy’s skin that were exposed were cold and clammy. His heartbeat was jackrabbit-fast, a rapid tattoo that caught Emil’s attention, despite his resolve to rein in his own needs and wants. Saliva pooled in his mouth at the sound of the beating pulse and the rush of blood through the boy’s veins. Against the paleness of his skin, they showed a deep and tasty-blue to Emil’s vision. His fangs itched to punch down at the same time as his dick punched up.
It was hard to angle the human’s stiff and trembling body to prevent him from feeling the erection pressing from behind Emil’s fly. He worried that the boy could hear his own pounding heart, too. The good news—because, Christ, they needed some—was that Jase didn’t fight him or shrink away. He simply sat curled within Emil’s embrace, soundless and with a vacant stare focused somewhere in the distance.
“It’s okay,” he tried to reassure the boy. “I’ve got you and you’re safe.”
“Yes, Master.” It was the first words he’d spoken since confirming how long he’d been with the asshole. His voice was soft and quivering, testament to the fact that while he was resigned to his situation, he wasn’t happy with it. Of course he isn’t.
Emil frowned at being called ‘Master’ when he was no such thing. He started to say as much then stopped. If the boy had been enslaved in the very real sense of the word since the age of fifteen, or, God forbid, earlier with some other guy, he likely only knew this one thing. Any man that claimed him and controlled him physically and financially was the master. The poor kid likely thought he had no choice in what happened to him or what man owned him.
Sadly, in all actuality, at that moment he was right. Emil couldn’t let him go. Not only was Jase vulnerable, he was now privy to what Emil and the others were really like. If they simply cut him loose, he’d talk and maybe people would listen. They couldn’t take that chance—not yet, not without first trying to co-opt him to their side. It was a terrible situation for all concerned and the fault lay squarely at Emil’s feet.
And yet, he didn’t regret a thing. Washburn, that predatory piece of shit, had deserved to die. If Emil hadn’t intervened, the worst that would have happened to the man was arrest and incarceration. As dismal as human prisons were, it didn’t seem like a sufficiently fit punishment for a man who’d preyed on and abused an underage boy. Eighteen might have been an arbitrary and relatively new age for consent among humans, but the very fact that someone was willing to ignore the societal norms that were inten
ded to protect children made the asshole worthy of violent retribution. Worse, Emil felt sure Jase’s abuse hadn’t started a mere three years ago. He worried that the boy had suffered longer than that. Recovery from such a thing would be difficult and needed help from someone knowledgeable and patient.
Emil was full of the latter, not necessarily the former. Right at the moment, however, he was what the boy had. He carried him to the family living floor, taking time to walk no faster than a human would, and headed straight for his own room. He didn’t think his decision through. It wasn’t even true that he had no other choice. The room that both Quinn and Mackie had occupied, then left for their lover’s and husband’s beds, was currently vacant. Emil could have taken Jase there. He didn’t. His primitive self was still driving his actions. Jase needed to be safely ensconced in Emil’s private space, and that was that.
The door was open, and he carried Jase inside without bothering to shut it. Harry would hopefully be coming soon with something to relax the boy. Besides, he didn’t want Jase to feel trapped. He briefly noticed and regretted that his bed was unmade and rumpled from his night’s sleep. Although he was always careful to keep his kitchen and pantry in pristine condition and order, his bedroom was different. It seemed silly to make a bed that no one was going to see all day, only to unmake it later. It proved useful in any event, giving him a clear path to place Jase onto the sheets.
“There now,” he said because the silence between them was deafening and he was desperate to reassure the boy. “You’re safe here.” It was dumb to keep saying it when everything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes indicated otherwise.
He flattened his lips at the sight of the blanket from the playroom still wrapped around Jase. It had been necessary at the time. Now it reminded Emil, and perhaps Jase as well, of what had happened in that room. Leaning down, he peeled it away with care. Jase didn’t so much as flinch, which would have been gratifying except his stillness reminded Emil again of an animal paralyzed with fear.
Slave Dance Page 8
