by Kim Dare
“What’s wrong with me?” The words would have been inaudible to a human’s ear.
“Nothing at all,” Marcus whispered back, moving one hand to rest on the back of Liam’s head and welcome him close, while his other palm smoothed what he hoped would be reassuring circles on the boy’s back.
“Then why is it that I only ever fall for guys who are completely screwed up?” Liam asked.
Frowning over the top of the shorter man’s head, Marcus tried to follow the boy’s line of thought and failed completely.
“Even Ralph wasn’t into this kind of…” Liam murmured.
“What?” Pulling back a little, Marcus dipped his head, determined to catch Liam’s gaze.
“Why do I only ever fall for guys who want to hurt me?” Liam seemed to be talking to himself far more than to Marcus now. His eyes held a far off quality, as if he were staring far back into the past, or maybe way out into the future. All Marcus could be sure of was that Liam really didn’t like the view.
Holding him at arm’s length, Marcus frowned down at the younger man. “What the hell makes you think I want to hurt you?”
A burst of laughter, verging on the hysterical, escaped from Liam’s mouth. Covering his lips with one hand, he stared up at Marcus, wide eyed for several seconds before turning his head to look in every direction around the room.
Marcus didn’t follow his gaze, he didn’t need to. He knew every inch of that space. He knew how it all looked through his own eyes. It only then occurred to him that it would look very different through Liam’s gaze.
“This has nothing to do with the way Ralph hurt you,” he said, putting all the strength and certainty he’d ever had at his disposal into the words.
Liam swallowed. His hand was still over his mouth. He looked as if he was only just managing to keep his breakfast down.
“It has nothing to do with anyone wanting to hurt you,” Marcus said again.
“Don’t lie to me!” Liam pushed against him. The sudden move caught Marcus by surprise. The boy slipped from his grasp and headed straight for the door.
Shoe prints lingered in his wake, the stumbling steps scuffing the dust as he rushed away. Liam’s fingers caught hold of the doorframe and propelled him forward. He threw himself through the doorway so hard, he tumbled against the wall opposite it.
“I won’t chase you.”
Liam stopped, his steps grinding to a halt as the words seemed to shock all movement out of his feet. He looked over his shoulder at Marcus.
“I have no interest in keeping you in this room unless it’s where you want to be. The same goes for any other room in this house.”
Liam turned to face Marcus, leaning back against the wall directly opposite the door as if he wasn’t capable of supporting himself on his own.
Marcus didn’t move. He didn’t step forward. He didn’t reach out to try and catch hold of Liam again. He stood perfectly still, his empty hands curling into fists at his sides. “You don’t need an escape route anymore, Liam,” he said, very carefully. “And you don’t have to worry about me being between you and the door either. If you want to leave somewhere and I’m in your way, all you have to do is ask me to step aside and I will. And I won’t chase you if you run.”
One detail suddenly became apparent as Marcus studied both the other man’s body language and his body in general. It wasn’t just the room that was freaking Liam out. It wasn’t merely the realization that Marcus liked the kind of games that were played in there that was making him panic.
Unless Marcus was very much mistaken, Liam was far more worried by his own reaction to the leather he’d stumbled upon. Marcus ran his gaze over the way Liam’s erection tented his jeans. The room hadn’t only made him scared. It had also made him hard. His breaths weren’t just uneven from fear.
He seemed even more freaked out by his reaction to the room than he had been by his wet dream that morning, but still for much the same reason.
Marcus dragged his attention back to Liam’s face. He saw the blush on Liam’s cheeks and knew it was too late to hide the fact he’d noticed his hardened shaft the way he’d managed to hide the fact he’d been wide awake that morning and thoroughly enjoyed feeling Liam rub against him that way.
“Was this why Ralph…?” Liam began, in a voice so full of pain; it was all Marcus could do to keep himself those few yards away.
“No!” It was impossible to keep the word calm and gentle. It snapped across the room like a whip.
Liam instantly dropped his gaze, his blush fading as the blood drained from his face.
“Ralph hurt you because he is a sadistic bastard and he knew he could get away with it,” Marcus expanded.
Liam didn’t look up. He slowly slid down the wall to sit on the hall floor.
“Do you really think he hit you because he thought you’d like it?” Marcus asked, stepping forward just one pace.
Liam shrugged. “Maybe he sensed that I’m wired wrong and…”
“You’re not wired wrong,” Marcus corrected.
Liam glanced up for a moment, not at Marcus, but past him into the room.
“Even if you were, that wouldn’t give him the right to hurt you.”
“But you like hurting—?” Liam began.
“No!”
Liam blinked, meeting Marcus’ eyes just for the briefest fraction of a second before looking away again.
“Not in the way you mean,” Marcus said. Taking a step to his left he lowered himself to perch on the edge of a spanking bench.
Liam said nothing, he just stared at his own hands as if they might hold the answers to every question he had.
“I may not be the most moral of men by human standards,” Marcus admitted. “But that doesn’t change the fact that pain tastes vile.”
If nothing else, the words shocked Liam into looking up at him properly.
“Whenever I’ve brought men, or women, to this room, I’ve always intended to feed from them as well as just play with them or screw them.”
Liam’s hand went to his neck, but it was impossible to tell if that was because he wanted to protect the jugular from attack or if he was imagining how good it might feel when a vampire’s teeth broke the skin there.
“You can taste…” Liam whispered.
“Yes.”
The boy’s hand moved to his wrist, to where Marcus had taken his first brief feedings from him.
“In the hospital, you…”
“That wasn’t about sex,” Marcus said, even more softly than he intended. “It wasn’t about getting off on tasting your pleasure.”
Liam’s fingers caressed the little patch of skin, over and over, back and forth as a frown built on his forehead.
“You needed me.” Marcus was sure he hadn’t intended to say any such thing, but the words were out before he could stop them.
“This would taste different?” Liam asked, turning his attention to the room once more. He’d pulled his legs up in front of him; there was no way for Marcus to tell if the sight of the leather and chains were still turning him on.
Marcus looked around the room too, trying to see it through the eyes of an inexperienced submissive. “When everything comes together perfectly, it’s the most sublime taste in the world,” he said.
Memories rushed to the front of Marcus’ brain. Men chained to the diagonal cross. Women too, before he found out that he generally liked a man’s flavor better.
Dozens of humans had been locked into the cage in the corner of the room over the years—hardened masochists each and every one of them.”
“Adrenaline, endorphins, trust, pleasure, desire, submission,” Marcus said. “When they’re mixed together, nothing tastes better. The pain a certain kind of man feels then…it doesn’t feel like pain—and it doesn’t taste like pain either. It’s…” He frowned, pushing his hand through his hair as he struggled for the right words. “I couldn’t have enjoyed the games I played in here if the men I was with didn’t get equal pleasure fro
m it.”
Liam lifted his eyes and met Marcus’ gaze for a moment. “Do you want me to—?”
“I want you,” Marcus cut in. “To stay with me and to give yourself time to heal. Anything else that happens will be because it’s what we both want, not because you think you owe me for room and board.”
Liam frowned too. “You…you can feed from me, if you want. I mean, you probably have some kind of better arrangement with other people…I know there are people who are trained to do things like this—blood whores and stuff, but if I’m here, and convenient and everything…maybe…”
Marcus stared across at him, unable to make real sense of the jumbled scraps of sentences.
Every cell in his body screamed at him to take what the other man was offering him. He needed blood. His teeth ached for it, every nerve and sinew he possessed clambered for even the briefest taste. His cock wanted anything Liam was willing to offer him, too.
“I don’t mind,” Liam whispered.
Marcus took a deep breath. The scent of leather hanging in the air did nothing to help him control his baser desires. “I mind.” The words sounded far too rough, far too harsh for someone like Liam.
“Because I won’t taste right unless we…” Liam waved a hand toward the playroom.
“Because when I feed from you, I want to taste your pleasure, not your fear,” Marcus corrected. “I want you to taste safe and protected and completely at ease with me. I want to drink your blood and know I’m the man who makes you feel that way.”
Liam held his gaze for several long moments, his eyes full of confusion.
“I know how that bastard made you feel. I won’t allow you to feel the same way when you’re with me,” Marcus blurted out. It was a stupid thing to say. God knew that Liam needed strength from him not weakness.
Liam swallowed rapidly. “I…” he looked down at his hands. “Am I allowed to go back downstairs?” The words were rushed out so quickly, they almost tripped over themselves in their haste to be spoken.
“You don’t need my permission to go wherever you want within the house,” Marcus said, mentally cursing himself for making the worst possible mess of the whole conversation.
Liam nodded. He was obviously trying his best to appear calm and collected. He was failing miserably, but he was trying. Marcus watched the other man drag himself to his feet only to hesitate as if suddenly unsure where he belonged.
“The sun should be flooding into the morning room now. There are some magazines you might enjoy on the coffee table,” Marcus offered.
He listened to Liam’s footsteps as the other man turned and walked away, his senses allowed him to track Liam all the way to the room downstairs.
Finally, Marcus pulled himself to his feet, too. Standing in the middle of the room, he looked at the toys and the furniture around him.
It was so easy for him to imagine Liam bound down against the examination table on the far side of the room, to picture the boy looking out at him from between the bars of the cage or glancing over his shoulder at him while his limbs remained bound to the cross.
Marcus closed his eyes for a moment. It was also all too easy to imagine the other man allowing all those things to happen just because he was too scared to admit that he didn’t want anything like that—because Ralph had beaten the idea that he had no option into him so hard, Liam had forgotten that there were people in the world who weren’t like that.
Stepping out of the playroom, Marcus closed the door very quietly behind him. The latch caught with a gentle click. Humans didn’t have to be like that unless they chose to be. Neither did vampires.
Chapter Nine
“Liam.”
The word was said very gently, as if the person saying it was doing his damnedest not to startle him. All his hard work was for nothing. Liam almost tripped over his own feet in his haste to turn and face the speaker.
Marcus stood in the playroom doorway, his shoulders seeming to fill the space completely. He hadn’t tied his hair back at the nape of his neck the way he sometimes did. Liam’s palms ached with the desire to reach out and stroke the glossy black strands, just as they always did when Marcus’ hair was loose, but his palms were the least of his troubles right then.
As Liam watched in something that felt a lot like horror, the other man looked slowly around the playroom, taking in every detail of each leather clad piece of furniture and each carefully arranged toy.
“I thought,” Liam began, but he quickly stopped himself short. He had no right to think, no right, in fact, to do anything that he hadn’t been ordered to do. He had no right to be in that room at all. Suddenly it was obvious that he should have stayed in the morning room reading his magazines.
It was equally obvious to Liam that he completely deserved whatever happened next. It was all he could do not to flinch away from the vampire in anticipation of the first blow. Perhaps, if he was lucky, Marcus would be hungry afterward. If Marcus wanted to feed, then at least he’d get some of the healing properties of his bite and—
“Thank you.”
Liam blinked. Against all logic, Marcus hadn’t sounded the least bit sarcastic as he said it.
Marcus stepped forward and skirted around the edge of the room to sit on the… Liam wasn’t exactly sure. It looked like it was designed to enable one man to tie another guy in place with his head down, his arse up and his legs spread wide apart. It might have been designed for spanking or screwing—it could just as easily have been for both.
Liam took a deep breath and lifted a hand to push his fingers through his hair. He saw the dust smeared across his hand, but it was too late. His arm had too much momentum. Swallowing down his nerves as best he could, Liam told himself it didn’t matter. He probably looked like a fool anyway, a bit of dust on his face wouldn’t make that much difference.
Shoving both grubby hands into his pockets, Liam looked briefly at the open door. There was a clear path between him and the hallway. If he needed to run, he could. He turned his attention back to Marcus.
“You’ve been working hard,” the vampire observed.
Liam followed the other man’s gaze as it swept the room again. There was no longer a single speck of dust to be found there, his own more practical kind of sweeping had taken care of that.
“Take care that you don’t do too much too soon,” Marcus warned. “Humans take time to heal.”
“I’m fine. It’s been two weeks and I…when you…” Liam took one hand out of his pocket and waved it around vaguely. “It helped a lot.” He’d never recovered from a beating that quickly—and few of them had been as bad as that night’s had been. Liam shook his head, trying to clear the memory from his mind before it took hold there.
“I’m glad,” Marcus said.
Liam shuffled his feet as he focused back in on the here and now.
“Do my toys seem less scary now that you’ve realized what a huge dust trap they are?” Marcus asked, one leg idly swinging as he settled himself more comfortably on the edge of the…the thing.
Liam was surprised at just how easy he found it to smile at the other man’s teasing, but he soon found himself growing more serious again.
“I…if we did, would it just be because you need to feed and I’m convenient, or would it be because you actually want…well…me?” Even though he knew it was a stupid question to ask, Liam couldn’t keep it back. “I don’t mind either way,” he rushed to add. “I’d just prefer to know.”
“If all I wanted was convenience I’d get a take-away—pick up a cheap rent-boy in a bad part of town and receive everything I wanted from him in the back of my car.”
Liam was shocked into looking up and meeting Marcus’ eyes. God help him, even being that take-away sounded hot to him. Half-hard the entire time he’d been cleaning, Liam suddenly found himself as stiff as a damn telegraph pole. There was no way he could take his hands back out of his pockets a third time. It wasn’t only his nerves he had to hide now.
“My interest in
you has nothing to do with convenience,” Marcus said.
Liam nodded his understanding. Unable to hold the other man’s gaze for more than a minute, he looked around the room again and took a deep breath. He nodded again. He could do this. “Where do you want us to start?”
“You want to try playing with me?”
Liam nodded. He was reasonably sure that was the only way he was going to save his sanity or manage to get a whole night’s sleep without all this stuff creeping into his dreams.
“Then we’ll start in the red drawing room,” Marcus announced.
Marcus extended one hand toward the door, inviting Liam to exit the playroom before him. Frowning slightly and not in the least sure what was going on, Liam still didn’t see that he had much option but to walk out of the freshly cleaned playroom. Glancing over his shoulder, he was just in time to see Marcus closing the door behind them.
By the time they stood in the drawing room, Liam had no idea what to expect. Marcus walked straight past him, and drew the full length curtains over all the windows, until they effectively covered one wall of the room. It was called the red drawing room for a reason. The curtains, the walls, the sofas, everything was some shade of the same color.
The same color as blood. A shiver ran down Liam’s spine—half fear, half anticipation.
“There are DVDs in that cabinet,” Marcus said, with a wave of his hand. ”Pick one out and put it in the machine.”
Liam knew exactly what kind of DVDs would be in there before he even opened the door. He had no doubt that every title on a case would include the word dominance, or submission, or leather—if not other words that were even less to his taste. Opening the cabinet, Liam crouched down in front of it and steeled himself for the worst.
A frown flittered across his brow as he saw what kind of titles were actually there. Each one was obviously brand new, not even removed from the cellophane, and they were all his secret favorites—the kind of movies he’d never dream of admitting he liked out loud—at least, not to anyone who he knew was actually able to hear him.