Emil tossed the blanket aside and pulled his comforter up. He tucked it around Jase’s curled form. “There… That will keep you warm.” Every word out of his mouth struck him as being inane, yet he couldn’t think of anything better to say.
To Emil’s surprise, the boy seemed to unclench in subtle ways, almost sinking into the bed. Then he let out a shuddery sigh and blinked at Emil. “Thank you, Master.”
Emil cleared his throat and scratched at the back of his head. “I, um…would prefer you call me Emil.”
Jase blinked rapidly some more before saying, “Yes, Master Emil.”
“Ah, no…” Before he could get out more than that, a knock at the door caught his attention. Harry stood there with a pill pinched between thumb and forefinger and a bottle of water in the other hand.
“Oh, thanks.” He was pathetically grateful for the distraction. Being with Jase left him floundering out of his depth. He’d never had a human boy in his bed before—or his care. With his blood cooling from his confrontation with Washburn, his natural inclination to lie low and stick to his lane was resurfacing. Outside of stuffing food down people’s throats, he had no experience in taking command and being responsible for others.
Harry handed him the pill and the bottle. “This will knock him out for a while. He needs rest. I can tell he’s exhausted just by looking at him.”
“Thanks. I’ll see that he takes it.” He really wanted to ask Harry to stay, but he hadn’t missed how the man’s entrance had caused Jase to stiffen again.
He managed to open the water without dropping the medicine and squatted down by the side of the bed. “I need you to sit up a bit and swallow this, baby.” Baby? Where the fuck did that come from?
Jase didn’t seem to mind the endearment, or if he did, he was good at hiding his feelings. Of course he was. The boy hesitated only a moment before propping himself on one arm and reaching for the pill. He popped it into his mouth as if he were well-trained in taking what was given to him without complaint. That led to a new worry that Washburn had forced drugs on the boy. Emil vowed to himself that this would be a one-time thing, especially when Jase only needed a small sip of water to toss back what he’d taken. Then, he slid down again and stared off into space.
“You can trust that Harry picked something safe to help you sleep. I promise you won’t have to take anything more after this.”
When Jase said nothing, Emil impulsively reached out to card the boy’s fine hair away from his face. Jase flinched in a barely perceptible way, sufficient for Emil’s sharp eyes to notice, but not so much that Emil wasn’t able to do what he wanted. It was as if every flight instinct the human had was on lockdown. Beaten out of him. The thought caused Emil’s fingers to close convulsively around the bottle, crushing the plastic and sending water shooting over his fist.
“Shit.” He sprang away from the bed to keep from getting it or Jase wet. Putting the bottle in his free hand, he wiped the water off on his pants. Then he set the bottle on the nightstand. “I’ll leave this here in case you want more later.”
Jase nodded as his eyelids drooped and he yawned. It was the first natural thing he’d done since the nightmare of Emil’s doing had begun. A small, almost animalistic noise escaped his briefly open mouth before he went completely silent. The sound echoed inside Emil’s head. He heard it for what it was—a cry for help.
He reached down to brush the boy’s silky hair once more. This time, Jase didn’t react at all to the touch because his eyes were closed. He’d fallen asleep, his pulse beating in regular fashion, still enticing. It would have taken nothing to drop to his knees before sinking his fangs into the tender neck. Jase would likely not even fight him, not given how broken down he was by his abuse. Except even if he’d wanted to, the tight leather collar blocked the way. Emil angrily fumbled around to find the latch. He had to crush it when he found that it was held in place by a small padlock. It came apart in his hand and he had to force himself to go carefully when he removed the collar.
The marred skin beneath it brought his fury to the fore again. Damn Washburn anyway for keeping that lovely neck encased in chafing confines. Emil promised himself to never again allow it, not that he would have a say in the boy’s life forever. Of course he wouldn’t. But while he did, there would be only tenderness and care. The sight of the exposed, slender neck didn’t tempt him to drink at all now. Emil would have rather pulled his teeth out and bled himself dry before abusing the boy in any way.
“I promise I’ll take care of you,” he vowed in a quiet voice. “Nothing and no one will ever hurt you again.”
He hadn’t gone looking for a boy, didn’t want one. Jase was his now, though. There was no denying that.
Chapter Six
Red eyes. White fangs gleaming with saliva. The monster chased Jase through his dreams. He couldn’t move fast enough to avoid the big, hulking creature who was coming and coming. No matter how much he tried, Jase couldn’t put any distance between them. His limbs were like lead and his heartbeat thrummed with the kind of fear that made words and breath catch in the back of one’s throat. A roar, like the kind a wounded King Kong would make, surrounded him. It made him shiver and quake, and he wanted to sink into oblivion and never resurface. There was no escape. There never had been. He’d been doomed from the very first to be trapped by monsters.
Jase’s eyes popped open on an almost-scream. He took a deep, shuddering breath and immediately smelled something wonderfully calming—sweet and spicy at the same time. He recognized it as homey and comforting. It was the covers surrounding him that the scent clung to. Of course…Chef Emil. This was his bed. No, not Emil…the monster, the one with the red eyes and the wickedly sharp fangs. The one who made horrible sounds and picked up a grown man as if he were nothing more than a ragdoll.
Jase should have been swamped by a fear greater than any he’d ever known, except that he still smelled sugar and spice and everything nice. “That’s what gigantic monsters are made of,” he whispered into the dark room.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. What did you say?”
Jase started at the sound of Mackie’s voice. He hadn’t realized he wasn’t alone. A sudden bright light shining from the nightstand had him blinking before he turned his head and looked at the redheaded boy. He remembered in a rush of memories how he’d held Jase in those first few nightmarish minutes when Jase had learned that there were worse things in the world than men preying on boys.
“Are… Are you a vampire, too?” he dared to ask.
Mackie, his hand still lingering on the lamp he’d turned on, grinned down at him. “No. Not exactly,” he added with a wrinkle of his nose. “It’s complicated, but I am human.”
The answer only made Jase more confused. Still, he latched on to the one thing that he understood. “You’re like me, then…a slave to a vampire.”
Although he hadn’t had time to truly process what had happened, he’d been passed around enough by men to understand that he belonged to Emil now. And, apparently, the chef was actually a blood-sucking creature like something straight out of a horror movie. The absurdity of it all would have made him laugh if he weren’t so terrified. His life had taken a decided turn for the worse. Washburn had been brutal, but no more powerful than the average man. How could Jase survive being dominated and played with by a far stronger inhuman being?
Mackie’s eyes softened. “I’m not a slave. I’m a submissive, and while there are boys like us who are in a Master and slave relationship, you haven’t ever been exposed to what that really means. Washburn’s treatment of you isn’t how it’s supposed to be. That was abuse, not the least of which was because he started when you were too young to give consent.”
Jase licked his lips. “Oh, okay.” He had no idea what Mackie meant and whatever his new master had forced him to take the night before had left his brain fuzzy still. “I guess Master will teach me what I need to know.” Master, whoever he was at any given time, always did. There was something liberating in
knowing that he didn’t have to figure things out on his own. Obeying was easy, even when it was scary and painful.
Mackie wrinkled his nose. “About that. It’s not really my place to say, but Emil isn’t your new master.”
Alarm shot through him. Jase shoved to a sitting position. “What? Who has he given me to?”
Oh God. He hadn’t had time to consider that he might have already been sold to someone else. Emil might be a vampire, but at least Jase knew him. If nothing else, the guy fed him the most amazing food. And did this mean that he belonged to some other vampire? What kind of games would a creature like that play? He jerked his fingers to the base of his throat. He felt around for a scab or other indication that someone had sucked his blood.
“Hey!” Mackie plopped down beside him and grabbed him by the wrist to stop his frantic search. “It’s okay. No one fed off you. They don’t do that without permission.”
That was only somewhat comforting. “But they do it, right?”
Mackie’s eyelids drooped in a sexy expression. “Oh, yeah, and it’s like the best orgasm enhancement ever.”
“Seriously?” Jase dropped his hand. “Someone’s going to suck all my blood while they fuck me?” The idea was ridiculous, yet he couldn’t deny what he’d seen. He knew Mackie wasn’t pulling his leg.
“No, silly. Not dry, just enough to make you come harder than you’ve ever done before.”
“Yeah, right.” Jase replied dully, too distracted with worry about who his master was. “I don’t usually do that—come, I mean. Master doesn’t like it. And I’m almost always in chastity anyway. My cock doesn’t expect anything different.”
The reminder made him aware that he was completely nude, with nothing cinching his cock and balls or stretching his ass. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d woken in such a liberating state. With a gasp, he cupped his throat again. He hadn’t noticed before that his collar was gone. He looked around as if he’d find it nearby. “Where is it?”
Mackie fiddled with the beautifully engraved tag dangling off his own collar. “Oh, Emil took it off last night, I believe. You’re going to need some cream to soften all that chafing,” he added with a nod toward Jase’s throat.
Dropping his hand onto his lap, Jase sank back into his pillow. “What’s the point? I’ll only get a new one soon.”
“I don’t think so. You’re actually not someone’s slave anymore. Emil isn’t in the lifestyle and he didn’t give you to someone else. He doesn’t think you’re his to control in the first place.”
“I don’t understand.” Jase’s confusion was mounting. “He effectively killed Washburn for me. If I don’t belong to him, I have to be someone else’s. I’m a slave. That’s who I am. Who do I belong to?” Panic, irrational and destructive as it was to his well-being and sanity, welled within him. He couldn’t stop it.
“Yourself, of course. You are your own person.” The answer didn’t come from Mackie.
Jase’s heart leaped into his throat and he turned to look in the direction of a new source of light. The door to the bedroom was open and standing in the middle of the threshold was the monster, except he didn’t look like one. He looked the way he usually did—the kindly chef in a white jacket, a ready smile and a tray piled high with awesome-smelling food.
If he tried hard, Jase figured he could pretend the horrors of the previous night hadn’t happened at all. But he couldn’t, because despite everything that had occurred since his mother had died, he hadn’t been able to find some happy place inside his own head. He’d often wished he could fool himself into believing that pain was pleasure and being subjugated was a gift. Something stubborn about him had made that impossible. As miserable as it continued to make him, he always faced matters head-on.
With his fingers gripping the covers, he sat up again. He worked his throat to press down his fear and raise his courage to ask questions. Nothing came to him. He opened and closed his mouth in an aborted effort, only to fall back on old habits. He slid his gaze to the floor and silently waited for whatever was coming. The sound of heavy tread and flashes in his peripheral visions told him the monster was coming toward him.
No…Emil. It’s Emil, the man who is so nice to you. Picture him baking bread in the kitchen, not trying to murder Washburn.
Mackie left the bed. “Here, Emil. Let me take that.”
“No, thanks. Jase and I need to talk, and he may as well get used to my being around, given the circumstances. Thanks for watching him.”
Mackie huffed. “Fine. Be careful with him.” The fierce boy’s tone brooked no disagreement.
“Always.”
It wasn’t until the door shut that the food tray was placed on Jase’s lap. He stared at it, saying nothing. He was kind of disappointed that it held mostly healthy stuff, like oatmeal and a glass of milk. There was a bowl of fruit, though, and something baked sat under a napkin. He sniffed quietly and thought he detected chocolate. His stomach growled, making him jerk with embarrassment and fear that his need for food was indiscreet.
“You’re hungry. That’s good.” Big hands approached him. Jase froze even more, although nothing happened other than his pillows were piled behind him. “There now… Sit back so you can eat without spilling stuff.”
Jase obeyed instantly. He reminded himself that he’d been in this position before—learning the rhythms of a new master’s whims. He was a quick study and could only hope that a vampire was no different than any other master. With his back propped against the pillows and the tray balanced on his lap, he waited for instructions. No eating without permission was slave rule one-o-one. No matter what had been said to him in the last few minutes, he knew he was a slave, not a free person. That was a lesson he wouldn’t forget, and if his new master wanted to play some game where Jase pretended that he gave himself freely, well fine. He could do that. He was good at giving men what they wanted.
“Go on. Start with the oatmeal. I figure your stomach is probably a little upset from, um…you know…everything. If that sits well, then there’s fruit and after that, a little treat is waiting for you.”
Jase didn’t need to be told twice. Hesitation in obedience was forbidden for one thing. And for another, he was starving. The oatmeal was a good choice. It slid down into his stomach easily enough, not too hot and sweetened with something. He made sure to eat slowly, so as to not spill and because concentrating on putting food in his mouth allowed him to ignore the large body hovering over him.
That didn’t last long, however. Once Jase had consumed a few spoonfuls, his not-your-master moved away from the bed and sat in the chair by the door. The way he flopped down into the thing, making it creak with his large weight, made it seem that he was tired. And how did that work, exactly? Didn’t vampires sleep during the day, assuming it was day? Jase was certain he’d seen the club’s chef during the morning, so maybe all that stuff about vampires being nocturnal was nonsense. Of course, the existence of monsters was supposed to be crap, and look where he was. Someone had gotten something right along the years. Some myths were true, apparently.
Damn, he had so many questions.
“I bet you have a lot of questions.”
The observation startled him sufficiently that his normally obedient mouth opened and he spoke without thinking. “Can you read my mind?”
A chuckle crossed over to him, the sound warm and genuinely mirthful. “No. I can’t do that. There’re lots of things I can’t do.” There was a sigh, sadness replacing cheerfulness in an instant. “I’m sorry I scared you last night. My temper got the better of me.” There was a pregnant pause. “I can’t apologize for precipitating Washburn’s death, but I hope I haven’t hurt you by it.”
“Hurt me?” The concept was so foreign to him that he wasn’t sure he understood it.
“Yeah, I mean, did you love him?”
“Fuck no!” Jase dropped his spoon with a clatter against the tray before freezing. His tongue would be the death of him.
Th
ere was no admonishment, however, only another chuckle. “That’s good. He was an asshole. But maybe it’s still scary for you that he’s gone. It’s okay to tell me the truth. It’s vital to me that you do, actually.”
Jase bided his time, a risky yet necessary thing, by taking a sip of his milk. The coolness of the liquid slid mercifully down his dry throat. “I’m only scared of not pleasing you, Master.” There, the truth and flattery mixed in one.
“Emil, remember?”
Right, some of the details of the previous night were murky. “Sorry, Master Emil.”
“No. I mean… Never mind. We’ll let that go for now. Is there someone you’d like me to get in touch with, like your stepfather?”
Jase shot a look in Master’s direction. “No, please.” He couldn’t hold back a whimper. The original monster in his life was someone he couldn’t face. Vampires were better…much better.
Master held out his hand. “Okay. That’s fine, and I’m not surprised. When you’re ready to do so, you can tell me what happened there. Or, maybe you’ll want to talk to Harry or Mackie.” He dropped his hands between his knees and stared at the ground for a second. “Keep eating and I’ll tell you my story. Okay?”
Jase did as told, returning to the surprisingly yummy porridge. Soon, though, he barely noticed what he was eating as he became absorbed in Master’s strange tale. Aliens, not vampires, except they were the origin story—a thousand years, marooned, just trying to make a life on a new world. Blood was good but not essential, unlike secrecy, which absolutely was.
Jase ate his way through the food on his tray, utterly fascinated with the story unfolding. By the time he dared expose the treat under the napkin, Master had finished speaking and was sitting in silence. Jase bit into what was a chocolate croissant, still slightly warm and obviously homemade. Flavor exploded on his tongue while his brain tried to accept what he’d been told. It was utterly unbelievable, although, compared to the idea that undead blood-suckers roamed Earth, perfectly plausible.
Slave Dance Page 9
