by Mandy Rosko
Then the shadows came closer, the darker one kneeling down, becoming more and more visible until—no, it couldn’t be. “My lord?”
The words were a harsh whisper against Jackson’s throat.
Silus Wiktor Veturious actually smiled at him. “Hello, my good servant. I see you’ve gotten yourself into a bit of trouble.”
Jackson swallowed hard, not daring to take his eyes away from his lord, the young—for a vampire—lord who had been kind to Jackson and his pack, the young lord whom everyone assumed to be dead these last twelve months. It was embarrassing how his eyes started to burn. “Sire.”
“We have no time, Jackson. I am usurping my father, at least of the power he holds over your pack. Joseph and Gregory have already sworn their fealty to me, but you are still their leading alpha, correct?”
Jackson licked his dry lips. This was no dream, and he needed to be clear in the mind right now. “Unless the alphas in my pack have already fought for the position. If they have you should be seeking Damon. He would have won the trial.”
“They haven’t, Jackson,” Joey said. “Damon is acting as temporary, but you’re still our leading alpha.”
That knowledge made Jackson’s next move clear. He pulled himself to his knees, pushing Joey away when the omega attempted to aid him. His joints were killing him from a lack of exercise as of late, and he was freezing from being held down here in only his boxers, but he never felt better.
“I swear, until my dying breath, to pledge my allegiance to the Veturious bloodline, to pledge my loyalty to Silus Veturious, and any he takes unto himself. I will lead my pack, and my pack will follow no other but you. Master.”
There was no need to cut open his palm and share his blood with Silus, not since he was already of the bloodline Jackson’s pack was sworn to. The spoken promise was more than enough to verify Jackson’s switch on loyalties, and with his neck and chest exposed, their fate was sealed.
As the words left his lips, a weight lifted from his shoulders and his chest, and a giddy sensation followed on the heels of it. He and his pack were free of Wiktor with this oath. Silus could do with them what he willed, and Jackson held no worries that his lord would do any harm unto Jackson’s wolves, nor would he wish to.
They were free to leave Wiktor’s servitude without disgrace or guilt. The others would feel the change immediately, but would still need to be guided.
“The others,” Jackson said, attempting to stand. This time he bit his lips and grudgingly accepted Joey’s helping hands, leaning into the other man for support. “They will be confused and frightened. I must lead them out.”
Wiktor would never release them from their servitude willingly, with no heir—that he knew of—to pass them on to.
Silus nodded. “I will aid you in whatever task is required.”
Then Jackson’s peripheral vision cleared, and he noted the blond man standing behind his lord. His nose was hardly working after being dunked in a swimming pool time and time again, but Jackson’s memory worked well enough. “Aren’t you that—”
Silus pushed Jackson’s hand down as he lifted it to point at Cedric.
“I have taken a sun sprite as my life mate. If you recall, that decision nearly cost me my life.”
Jackson looked between the two men. The sun sprite seemed to tense up, as though awaiting an unpleasant reaction from Jackson. As though Jackson would dare to voice his opinion on the matter, should he have had a negative one. Which he did not. “If he is yours, then by my oath, he is mine, and my pack’s, to serve as well.”
Silus’s teeth flashed. “A wise answer. For obvious reasons my sire cannot know of us. You must lead your pack, command them. The guards, the servants, all of them. Bring them to Mantua Lake, and I will see to their care there.”
Thank God he had Joey to lean onto. Jackson thought he would collapse in happiness. “Yes, my lord.”
* * * *
Seth didn’t make it far before he was caught, but he’d expected that with the way his leg was fucking with him.
He expected to get tackled face-first into the hard ground just as he made it out the stairway leading out of that wretched basement.
The shocking thing was how Wiktor had been the one to do it, not Damon.
The werewolf had stood behind his master, disbelief all over his puss at the sight of his refined lord doing something as savage as knocking another man to the ground with the force of his body. It even threw Seth for a loop.
Then he took a hard fist to the side of the head, and Wiktor put all of his vampire strength into that one because Seth saw a flash of white before his vision cleared.
His knee was throbbing now, fire building and licking at his bones and cartilage as he was carried fireman style up a set of wide, curved stairs with a red carpet. Damon had to be doing this part. Yeah, the suit was definitely his, and this bigger body with all the muscle on it in no way came from Wiktor.
He wiggled his wrists under his three sets of plasticuffs, attempting to stretch them out enough so that he might be able to snap them quickly and... Right. Still daylight outside. He was going nowhere regardless of whether he got these things off.
Seth sighed and settled in for the ride. He’d try to live through whatever physical tortures Wiktor put him through and what mental agonies Winchester would pile on him until he could find his opening and get away.
At least Ben would have come for Cedric by now. It made Seth feel better that, because of what he’d done, his and Silus’s secret would stay safe. Two people out of reach of all this fucked-up drama would have to be worth it, if Seth was going to get out of this with his sanity still intact.
That and he had the memory of himself kissing Wiktor to entertain himself with.
When they turned up another set of stairs, there was no question where they were heading. Seth knew this route. Wiktor was muttering to himself the entire way. “Disgraceful. Disrespectful cretin. Putting his mouth on me. I’ll sell you to Winchester and be done with it.”
“Whatever,” Seth muttered back. He wasn’t in the mood for this.
Then his hair was yanked back, and he was staring into the evil eyes of one seriously pissed-off vampire. “What did you say to me?”
Wiktor demanded.
“I said, go fuck yourself.” He then spat in Wiktor’s face, and it was more than worth the following punches and slaps and hair pulls he got for it.
“Filthy, foul creature!” Wiktor screeched, grabbing him by the ears and yanking his head around.
Now Seth began to squirm to get away. Hanging upside down, and all the blood rushing to his head and ears, it made the old vampire’s treatment of him painful.
Seth still had the presence of mind to feel a little sorry for Damon, who was forced to stand there while his master heaped abuse onto the man he carried over his shoulder, like nothing was out of the ordinary.
“You dare speak to me thus? After you killed my son?”
“If he’s gone it’s because he wanted to get away from you, you psycho piece of shit. Don’t think everyone in this house forgot that you’re the one who tried to bleed him to death!”
His hair was grabbed again, yanking his face up, and he got another slap for that one before Wiktor released him with a disgusted sound.
The blow left Seth’s cheek burning even more. Wiktor’s long nails scraped along the side of his face where the blow had been dealt.
Because his face was already so hot from the constant slapping, it took Seth a couple of seconds to register the tickle of thick liquid dripping down, or, up, as the case was, his face and into his hair.
Motherfucker had cut him with those long, womanlike nails of his.
“What would you know of it? What would you know of honor?”
Wiktor demanded.
Seth kept his mouth shut. He glared and bit his lips to keep everything he wanted to say inside. There was no point in arguing when his and Wiktor’s idea of honor were polar opposites. Never mind that Wiktor wa
s somewhat on speaking terms with the father of his supposedly dead son’s lover. Nope. It didn’t matter because when Wiktor had ordered the bleeding, what Silus had done, coming out to his parents about his relationship with a sun sprite, had been considered the worst sort of offence.
Probably still was. Nobody got rid of a thousand years’ worth of distrust with two suicides. Faked or not.
Wiktor seemed to take Seth’s silence as a sort of victory. His lips turned up in a bored smirk, and then he snapped his fingers and continued on up the stairs. Damon hesitated.
Wiktor must’ve stopped and seen that his servant was not coming when he was called. “Well? Come along you stupid wolf!”
Seth felt Damon shake himself—what was wrong with him? “Uh, yes my lord.”
Wiktor released an impatient hiss as his servant finally moved obediently in the direction he was wanted.
“I am finished torturing myself with your presence,” Wiktor said, returning to his previous rant. “My wife has certainly suffered enough. Winchester wants you. He may take you.”
Seth wiggled his wrists around harder, trying to loosen the plasticuffs before they made it to the guest rooms. He kept waiting for Damon to say something, punch him or something for doing it since he was way past trying to hide the fact that he was attempting to escape, but the werewolf said nothing to either Seth or his master, and just kept right on walking.
Purposely ignoring Seth’s attempts to get away? Whatever. He’d dwell on why the werewolf was allowing this later.
Seth could hardly see where they were going, but he knew when they stepped off the stairs and were on a straight floor again. When they stopped and Seth heard a knock on a heavy oak door, he held his breath and kept stock-still.
Wiktor didn’t announce himself as he knocked. They only needed to wait a few seconds before Seth heard a soft click and a whisper of air as the door opened.
“Winchester, I have your prize,” Wiktor said.
There was no immediate answer. Seth’s face flared as he got the impression that Winchester was checking out his ass.
“Indeed you do,” Winchester said, his voice a tiny squeal before he cleared his throat. Seth flinched at the touch of fingers to the back of his thigh.
“Don’t touch me,” Seth snapped, wiggling and trying to kick Winchester away, but Damon held his legs down. The werewolf guard couldn’t ignore that one, it seemed.
Wiktor came and punched him in the back of the head for his offence, and the knock brought more pain and bright flashes to his vision, and a pulsing migraine. If he stayed in this position any longer he was going to get a nosebleed on top of it.
“Keep silent!”
“There is no need for that,” Winchester said quickly. “Please, just bring him inside and leave us.”
Oh, God. That unbelievable idiot thought he was rescuing Seth.
Wiktor snapped his fingers again, and Damon entered Winchester’s room. Wiktor did not follow.
“I trust you are able to wait until tonight for the transaction?”
Winchester asked.
“Indeed. I am looking forward to hanging my new paintings in my study. My wife is especially fond of The Rose Bush.”
Jesus Christ. Seth wasn’t even being sold for money, but he was being traded for paintings. They’d better have been done by someone amazing, like Monet or Picasso.
Damon slid Seth from his shoulder and dropped him onto the bed.
Seth inhaled a deep breath now that he didn’t have a shoulder jamming into his gut. He didn’t even feel the sense of panic that he probably should have considering he was on his rapist’s sheets. Now that all the blood was leaving his face, all he could feel was relief.
Then Damon left his side and moved back for the door. Seth caught the discomfort on the other man’s face as he turned tail and moved back to the side of his master. He knew what he was leaving Seth to.
Seth shifted himself so that he was sitting up. Winchester’s hand was already on the door, eager to shut out the two men who brought Seth to him. “Very well then. All will be handled after the sun sets.”
Wiktor nodded, turned his hateful eyes back to Seth, and then turned away.
For the second time, Damon didn’t follow his master. He stood at the door, watching Seth with those same apologetic eyes until Winchester roughly shut the door in his face. He turned the brass skeleton key, locking everyone out before turning around, giving Seth a visual of the green and yellow bruises still healing on his cheeks and under his eyes.
Seth, as calmly as he could, slid off the bed and stood straight, keeping more of his weight on his good leg. “Your face is looking better than I thought it would.”
Winchester touched the mess under his eye and grimaced. “It should be fully healed by tomorrow eve.”
Seth nodded.
“Your hair.” Winchester squinted through his spectacles, as though he were having trouble believing what he was seeing. “’Tis different. Who did that?”
“I cut it.”
“Your beautiful black locks.” Winchester shook his head, bringing a fist to his heart. “No need for emotion, I suppose. It will grow back in time.”
“I’m keeping it like this,” Seth said. The only reason Winchester liked his hair so much was because he liked pulling on it.
“Your face,” Winchester said, noticing the scratch marks. When he moved toward him, Seth couldn’t help but limp back a step, hissing as his knee throbbed.
Winchester’s wide eyes shot down to his leg. “What has happened? You are terribly injured!”
“My leg was broken when I made a run for it. It didn’t heal right.”
Winchester’s face fell. This time Seth forced himself to keep still as the other man strode closer to him again. It took everything he had to keep himself stony when he put his palms to Seth’s cheeks, carefully avoiding the long slices.
“I’ll have my best physicians see you. Those horrible animals should never have laid their paws on you.”
“They didn’t have much of a choice.”
Winchester’s lips thinned, and he shook his head. “You need to stop running. You think I am a horrible sort of vampire, but I am not. I will be so kind to you if you let me.”
“Won’t your wife mind when you take me home to live with you?” Not that Seth was planning on letting it get that far.
“You need not be jealous of her. She has her lovers, and I have mine.”
Seth wasn’t sure he believed that last part.
“Ours was a marriage of convenience. I assure you, now that I have you, there will be no others but yourself.”
Seth clenched his teeth. It was times like this when he felt a little sorry for the crazy bastard. By vampire standards, Winchester was a nice guy, and forcing himself on the slave of another house was about as wrong as squashing a spider.
But Seth would never, ever forgive him for doing what he did.
When Winchester tried to lean up to kiss him, Seth could only let it get as far as a touch of their mouths before he jerked away, sickened to his stomach, like he’d just let a farm animal kiss him.
He paced, limping around Winchester when the man tried to halt him. His mind raced and he couldn’t think, couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. Winchester was talking to him, but Seth couldn’t make out what he was saying.
Oh, Jesus, he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t even pretend to make nice with this guy until sundown. If he wriggled harder to stretch out and break his plasticuffs, he could feel them give in a little more, but he still couldn’t squeeze his wrists through.
“Please.” Winchester grabbed his shoulder and cupped his face, trying to pull Seth back to face him again. There were tears in his eyes. “Please, be mine. I want you for mine.”
Seth tensed up all over, an understanding he needed to be wrong popped into his head. “Did you claim me?”
“Since the first time I had you, I have been your servant.”
Seth cringed and shut his eyes
. Terrific. The stupid bastard actually claimed him. No wonder he was so obsessed.
“Please, speak,” Winchester prompted. “I will give you everything you could desire. There will be no need for chains and forced feedings, just have me in return.”
Seth opened his eyes. The sight that met him was pathetic.
Winchester, a wrinkled old vampire, looked like a twelve-year-old about to get dumped by the first person who’d ever held his hand.
Would this happen to Seth? Would he become this pitiful, blubbering excuse for a man if he continued to pine after Ben? His feelings never returned because he’d been stupid enough to tie himself to someone who didn’t care for him?
Maybe he could use this.
His jaw felt tight as he forced his lips up into a smile. “Could you cut these cuffs off for me? Then maybe we could…” Seth trailed off, letting his eyes wander to the bed to hint at what he could never get himself to say.
Winchester put his fingers in Seth’s hair. He understood that the gesture was meant to be a comforting one, but Seth felt anything but.
“I’m afraid I don’t much trust you after the last time.”
Winchester brought out his fangs, they were long and thin coming from his shallow face. “We have all the time in the world. You will be happy when you submit. You’ll see.”
Seth panicked. Winchester was going to drink from him until he was too weak from a lack of blood to move, and then he was going to fuck him.
There was no more time. No more stalling, and he acted without thinking. Seth launched his head forward, catching Winchester in the nose. The man cried out, his boney hand shooting to the broken, bloody bit of flesh, and Seth snapped all three pairs of plasticuffs and hurled himself at him, the same as he’d done to Joey in the holding cell.
The man might be a vampire with amazing strength, but he was slower than Seth and had zero balance. He went down hard, their fall thudding against the plush carpet of the room.
Winchester opened his mouth to scream, and Seth quickly clamped his hand over it, bringing his other fist down again and again and again. He didn’t stop, not when Winchester used his fangs and bit down on Seth’s hand, when he scratched and clawed at Seth’s arm and face, and not even when Winchester stopped fighting back altogether, his blood coating Seth’s knuckles.
