Puppet/Master (The Vale Chronicles Book 1)

by Joel Abernathy

  Tears welled up in Arden’s eyes, but he refused to let them fall. “Yes, Master.”

  “That’s a good boy,” Eric said, stroking him tenderly. “You’re in luck. Lavien has requested that the ghoul be sent along with you.”

  “Vox?” he asked hopefully.

  Eric gave him a small, bored smile. “See? You won’t be alone.”

  “How long?” Arden asked. “When will I see you again?”

  “In time. Once Lavien is Emperor, I will be taking a more active role within the elven kingdom.”

  “Because you’re lovers now?” Arden was unable to keep the distaste out of his question.

  Eric gave him a knowing look. “You of all people should know that sometimes we must make concessions for politics.”

  “Is that what I am?” Arden asked stiffly. “A concession?”

  The vampire sighed. “You will return to Daimon with the Prince tonight. I expect to hear that you were perfectly behaved on the journey.”

  “Yes, Master,” Arden muttered. As if he had a choice.

  Chapter 21

  Arden

  After a seven-hour trip by train, Arden was taken to the Prince’s castle in the heart of Daimon. The gothic spires were a stark contrast to the ethereal beauty of the Vale. He couldn’t help but wonder if the elves had simply borrowed from the vampires’ aesthetic or brought their own with them, but for a realm that ran on Chrysalus, Daimon was nothing like the mystical world it came from.

  High stacks of smoke billowed up to cloud the sky across the nation’s industrial landscape. Arden recognized the bright red blood centers where humans were kept for farming their blood. Even though the elves didn’t need it for sustenance, they’d borrowed from the vampire model to ensure their vast corporations had plenty of fuel for the magic-adjacent technology they produced.

  Giant flatscreens hung over the city, hawking one product or another. Fae clad in scanty bindings were the most popular subjects in advertising, it seemed.

  The castle was far more modern than Arden had expected, but not quite as metropolitan as Eric’s home. Arden was taken to his own apartment within the Prince’s wing, and he shuddered at the thought that the Emperor was just down the hall.

  Then again, if Eric and Lavien had their way, he wouldn’t be a problem for long.

  Arden couldn’t see any locks on the doors, but there were cameras in every corner. The Prince hadn’t bothered to hide them. Perhaps he was proud of his voyeurism.

  Exhausted from the trip, and his numerous failed attempts to reach Vox’s car, Arden laid down on the bed that had been made for him and closed his eyes. He was sure that Lavien would keep him waiting, just because he could.

  When he woke, it was dark outside. He’d finally gotten used to being awake during the day, but the week with Eric had reset him. Not that he’d felt truly rested since he’d left the Brotherhood. For a supposed prison, it felt the closest to freedom that he’d ever come.

  Arden froze when he saw the man standing in the dimly lit living room. He turned the light on and was filled with hope when he realized it was Vox standing there, his back facing Arden and his head turned down as if he was staring at the floor in front of him. As unnatural as the pose seemed, Arden ran to him and threw his arms around the ghoul from behind.

  “Vox!” he cried, squeezing tighter until he realized that Vox wasn’t returning his embrace. The ghoul felt limp, as if he was only standing upright because he was locked into position. Arden turned him around and felt a mixture of guilt and relief that Vox’s sharp-toothed mask was still in place. It was the emptiness in the ghoul’s eyes that took him by surprise. They were cloudier and paler than usual, a sickly blue that betrayed none of the mischief or spark Arden had grown so fond of.

  “Vox?” he whispered, stroking a dark strand away from the taller man’s face. “What happened? What did they do to you?”

  Vox didn’t respond, even though he didn’t appear to be any worse for the wear. Physically, at any rate. Before Arden could question him any further, the Prince came in and waved away the guards who opened the door for him.

  “Ah, I see you’re awake,” he said in a smug tone. “And you found your present.”

  “What have you done to him?” Arden demanded, standing between the silent ghoul and his new Master.

  “Me?” Lavien asked innocently. “You should ask Eric. He’s the one who reset him.”

  “Reset?” Arden choked. “What does that mean?”

  “My, he has kept you sheltered,” the Prince mused. “You’re not the only one who went through conditioning. Eric controls all the ghouls he’s sired, and in the event that one develops too much of a will of its own, he can wipe the slate clean, so to speak.”

  Arden’s heart sank and seemed to break apart in all directions. Eric was the one who’d done this? And he was Vox’s sire? One revelation after the other had his head spinning. Why hadn’t Vox said anything before?

  “There’s no need to cry about it,” Lavien said, wandering over. He casually ran his fingers through the ghoul’s hair and Vox stood passively, only blinking in response. “Personally, I think he’s more fun this way.”

  “Don’t touch him,” Arden hissed, slapping the elf’s hand away.

  Lavien looked down at him, a hard edge in his gaze. For a moment, he did nothing, but when he brought his hand across Arden’s cheek, the bladed metal attachment on his index finger struck him hard enough to split his lip.

  The blow sent Arden to the floor, but Vox didn’t move. The ghoul was staring off into the distance and if there had been any doubt that Lavien was telling the truth, it faded in that moment, along with all of Arden’s hope.

  What hurt the most wasn’t the fact that Eric had done this. He’d done far worse without ever losing a moment’s sleep. The devastation came from knowing that Arden carried the blame for what had happened to his friend. For Harding’s death, and what counted as Vox’s in every way that mattered.

  “Get up,” the Prince said in an icy tone. “I have no use for a sniveling child, and if you wish to keep your shell of a pet in one piece, you’ll mind your tongue in my presence. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes,” Arden spat.

  The elf’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, what?”

  Arden ground his teeth together so hard his head felt like it was going to split open. “Yes, Master.”

  The smirk of triumph on Lavien’s face made all the Prince’s beauty turn stale. “That’s what I want to hear. Now go bathe. I can’t feed from someone who smells like a train station.”

  Arden reluctantly left the room, if only because he didn’t want Lavien to turn to punishing Vox on his behalf. If there was even a chance that the ghoul could be returned to his former self, Arden knew they had to escape, and to do that, they both had to survive the capricious Prince.

  When Vox followed him into the lavish bathroom, his heart skipped hopefully. He looked into the ghoul’s eyes, but he saw no more sentience than there had been before. For once, Vox seemed to be the mindless servant Eric had created him to be.

  “The Prince instructed me to help you,” he explained, seeming to sense Arden’s hesitation. When he walked forward and reached out for Arden’s shoulders, the chimera froze.

  Vox’s fingers were cool and stiff as he slid the robe off Arden’s shoulders. There was nothing sensual in his touch or his gaze. Just a mechanical being going through the motions of his duties.

  “It’s alright,” Arden said hoarsely, slipping the robe the rest of the way off. “I’ve got it.”

  Vox turned away from him to start the bath, kneeling down beside the tub to check the temperature as he’d done before. The familiar sight made Arden’s heart ache as he slipped into the water and wished it would wash him away to somewhere else.

  He sat in dead silence with the water up to his chest as the ghoul began to work lavender-scented shampoo into his wet hair. His touch was as gentle as ever, but it lacked the intimacy and care of before. When his
hands drifted lower, resting on Arden’s body, the chimera pushed him away.

  “It’s alright. I can do the rest.”

  Vox hesitated a moment, but he sat back on his knees and waited for Arden to finish bathing. By the time he was done, the ghoul had a fresh towel ready to wrap him in. Arden resisted the urge to fall into his arms as he’d done so many times before. He didn’t deserve comfort, even if Vox was capable of providing it.

  He had failed his beloved friend, just as he’d failed Harding. He’d failed Eric, too, and for the first time, he couldn’t decide which was the heaviest burden to bear.

  Vox followed him out of the bathroom, but Arden stopped shy of the bedroom door and turned to face the ghoul. “I want you to stay here.”

  Vox’s face remained unchanged, but Arden could sense his hesitation. “I’m ordered to serve you.”

  Those words stung more than he could possibly know, but Arden swallowed the pain along with the guilt. He knew he deserved it all and then some. “Please. I don’t want… I just need you to stay here. Please.”

  The ghoul nodded slowly. “Yes. I’ll stay.”

  Arden forced a smile and walked into the bedroom. He closed the door and found the Prince waiting for him, seated on the edge of the bed. He swallowed hard as the man waved him over and urged him to sit down next to him.

  “Did your former Master explain why I brought you here?” Lavien asked patiently. Arden knew it was just a mask for the spite he kept so well hidden beneath his coy demeanor.

  “Yes.”

  “Then you understand that you are mine now,” the Prince said, lifting his head to look down on his new ward. “Body and soul.”

  “Yes,” Arden gritted out. “I am yours.”

  The Prince’s lips quirked into a cruel smile. “Not yet you don’t,” he said, almost under his breath, as if he was speaking to himself. “But you will. Do you know how elves make a pet our own, Arden?”

  Something in the Prince’s sweet voice put him even more on edge. “No, Master.”

  Lavien touched his face, his long hair sweeping over Arden’s bare thighs. He leaned in, his lips just barely touching the chimera’s. “We hollow them out,” he whispered in a sensual voice that sent a shiver down Arden’s spine. “As I’m sure you’re aware, we are possessive creatures who demand nothing less than total domination.”

  Arden swallowed hard. He remembered what Dusk had told him, that if a chimera was unwilling to share Chrysalus with a lover, the energy could be taken by force, as long as his will was shattered and his mind bent to the will of his Master. He wasn’t surprised that was what Lavien had planned for him. It was almost a relief. Why should he receive better than what Vox had been subjected to because of him?

  The Prince studied him and when Arden didn’t respond with the fear he seemed to be hoping for, he pulled away. “Fortunately for you, you contain the essence of something I covet far more than ownership.”

  Arden stared at him in confusion. What new punishment was he teasing at? He couldn’t imagine anything objectively worse than the torment it would take to break a chimera’s spirit, but Lavien was nothing if not creative.

  His concern seemed to provide the response the elf was looking for. Satisfaction glowed in his sky-blue eyes. “You are the only thing Eric has ever loved,” he murmured, running his hands up Arden’s bare chest through the part in his robe. “The closest thing to his beating heart that I can touch. For that reason alone, I am not going to rend you.”

  Rend. Was that what they called it? The bastards had a term for everything. “I don’t understand.”

  “Of course you don’t,” Lavien sneered. “What would a simpering little whore like you understand of love? You’re imbued with the instinct to bend over for every male who pets you the right way. And yet, you were his prized possession,” he said with a sigh of disbelief. “Or should I say, you were? And now you’re mine.”

  Arden bristled at his words, but he remained silent, his gaze on his lap. “I am yours to do with as you wish.”

  “And I will,” Lavien purred, pushing him onto his back. When the Prince pulled a knife, Arden held his breath, but rather than using it on the chimera, he placed it in Arden’s hand. He smiled at the other man’s confusion. “Cut my throat and drink deep, darling. I’ve had your memories and now you shall have mine.”

  Arden remained frozen in confusion, his hand wrapped around the hilt of the knife. It would be so easy to plunge it into the elf’s heart, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good. The blade wasn’t made of iron. It couldn’t kill an elf, and even if it could, the Prince was larger. Stronger. As a vampire Puppet, it wouldn’t have been a contest, but as a chimera, Arden was so much weaker. He wouldn’t stand a chance, and Lavien knew it.

  He brought the blade up to the Prince’s throat and held his breath as he pushed it in slowly, just enough to draw blood. Lavien didn’t react, holding Arden’s gaze as if daring him to defy the order. Even though it had been some time since he’d taken a life, Arden’s body remembered the motion well enough and he took pleasure in slicing the blade across the elf’s throat.

  Pain flickered in Lavien’s blue eyes as his matching blood seeped from the wound like a shimmery, oozing necklace made of sapphire. Arden rose to press his lips to the elf’s neck, dipping his tongue into the fresh wound. The elf’s blood tasted like berry wine laced with disdain, a bitter flavor that went down smooth. As Arden drank, he felt the Chrysalus within shift and rise to meet this new form of intimacy. When the memories began rushing in, the energy he knew so well shrank away as if trying to avoid contamination.

  No physical intimacy Arden had ever shared with another man came close to the soul-grinding closeness of Lavien’s mind merging with his own. The feeling of the elf drawing his memories from him had been unsettling, but this was something else. It was raw and violating and as the other man’s malice and madness seeped its way into his veins, Arden felt a shiver running deep through his soul.

  Lavien gripped his arms and dug his claws in deep enough to draw blood. “Drink,” he hissed. “Learn the truth of your beloved Master.”

  It was only then that Arden realized his true aim, but it was too late. He couldn’t pull away or stop drinking, even if Lavien allowed him to. He hadn’t fed on blood in so long, and as repulsed as his body had become by it, he couldn’t remember how to stop once he’d started. He’d known that Lavien was infatuated with Eric, but as the Prince’s memories and emotions surrounding the vampire became his own, he realized that infatuation didn’t come close to describing it.

  It was obsession. Fixation. Sickness. He resented anything and anyone Eric had ever touched, and all the more so the one person he’d ever loved without taking to his bed.

  The revelation of the depth of Lavien’s twisted passion was not what took Arden off-guard. He could hardly judge the Prince for a vice they both shared. It was the memory of a conversation Eric and Lavien had shared shortly before Arden’s kidnapping. The two men sat in a distant room within the Emperor’s castle, quietly discussing the deal Eric had made with the ruling monarch.

  “And here I thought he was your pride and joy,” Lavien had taunted. “I thought you loved him as your own flesh and blood.”

  “I do,” said Eric. “All the more reason to part with him.”

  Lavien frowned in confusion. “I don’t understand.”

  “The program has been a success. Arden was my first and most successful prototype, but there have been others since him,” Eric said, walking over to peer out the castle window. “There will be many more where he came from, and my fondness for him has become a weakness. He’s outlived his utility and your uncle will get more use out of him.”

  “I see,” Lavien said thoughtfully as he turned to his lover. “And should I one day outlive my utility, can I expect the same callous disposal?”

  Eric gave him a knowing smile and crossed the room to capture his lips. Arden felt the force of the kiss and the silkiness of the vampire’s tongue
entering Lavien’s mouth as if it was his own. He’d longed to know what it felt like to be on the receiving end of Eric’s romantic attention for so long, but experiencing it like this, especially in the aftermath of the devastating truth he had just learned, was excruciating.

  The pain was enough to break him out from under Lavien’s spell. The elf seemed surprised he’d managed it, but he quickly recovered as Arden fell to the floor on the other side of the bed.

  “There,” he purred, licking his own blood off his fingertips. “I believe we understand one another.”

  “No,” Arden spat, tears of blood streaming down his cheeks. It was new, but so was crying, and Lavien didn’t seem surprised, so he assumed it was relatively common for his kind. “You’re lying.”

  “That’s not how it works and you know it,” Lavien taunted, standing. “Face the facts, my love. Your Master was willing to sell you to the highest bidder once, and he’s done it again. Or did he promise it would be temporary?” he sneered.

  Arden’s heart finally shattered into pieces so small they could no longer be broken. “No…”

  “You can delude yourself if you like. Or you can take another drink and I’ll show you the truth. How he gave me excruciatingly detailed instruction on how I could force a bond, should you prove difficult.”

  “No!” Arden cried, covering his ears with his hands. He didn’t want to see. He didn’t want to know. His soul already knew the truth, and it was every bit as crushing as Lavien seemed to hope.

  Arden saw the Prince approach, but the door flew open behind him and in a blur of motion. Before the Prince seemed to know what was happening, Vox was behind him, his hands on either side of the elf’s head. With a sharp twist and a crunch, Lavien fell limp to the ground, his neck broken.

  Arden stared in disbelief, his hands falling away from his ears. “Vox?”

  The ghoul stared at him and the blank look in his wide eyes dashed Arden’s hope that he was back to his old self. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “You screamed. I thought he was hurting you…”