by Aliya DalRae
“As can I,” Martin whispered before calling out, “On my way.”
He reached his hand out and dragged his thumb over Merlin’s lips. “Don’t push me away, Merlin. Gods, please, I…please don’t push me away.” He leaned in and pressed his lips firmly against Merlin’s, strong, hot, hungry…and then he was gone.
Chapter Fourteen
M erlin closed the door on Martin’s retreating back, and exhaled his relief at having at least that slab of wood between him and the Soldier. He closed his eyes as the Shade worked its way through him, threatening to take control and send the entire manse into blackness.
However, with his eyes closed, the memory of Martin’s lips on his intensified, and he had to fight the sensations coursing through him. His belly twisted in knots of desire, and his erection threatened the fly of his jeans.
After a bit of meditative breathing, he was able to open his eyes again, without fear of leaving a houseful of people in the dark. He’d managed to keep the Shade at bay, but no amount of breathing was going to ease the ache in his groin.
He changed into workout pants, something a little softer with a bit of give, and forced himself to focus on work. He still had that stack of folders to straighten, the folders Martin had helped him gather. The touch of his hand as it slipped over his took on, well, not new meaning, but definitely more than Merlin wanted to acknowledge at the time.
Shaking the thought from his mind, Merlin powered up his laptop out of habit. He then gathered everything he needed and sat on his office floor, making stacks of like documents to refile in the folders from which they’d escaped.
Once he had everything organized to his satisfaction, he settled himself behind his desk and pulled up the GPS for Harrier’s plane. They were still a ways out, but appeared to be right on schedule.
Merlin leaned back in his chair, an exact copy of the comfortable seat he’d acquired for his main office downstairs, and stared at the computer screen. The green dot that represented his Legion family blipped on the black and grey grid, a hypnotizing effect that he used as a focus.
The knife. The blood. Kioshi’s silent, “I’m sorry.”
Merlin jerked awake, his heart doing marathon-level BPMs in his chest, death a negative image implanted on his retina. He glanced around his office, taking inventory of anything with lumens. No broken light bulbs, and the little green blip still beat its steady rhythm on the screen in front of him.
At least the Shade hadn’t taken him in his sleep.
By the looks of things, Harrier’s plane now circled over London. A quick text confirmed they would be landing shortly, and whatever happened next would be up to the Primeval.
With nothing more he could do to help his people overseas, Merlin decided to call it a night.
He crawled into bed in his workout gear, but the clothes proved to be hot and uncomfortable. He took them off and pulled the sheet over himself, the cool cotton soothing to his bare skin. Soft and smooth, silky as a lover’s kiss.
Aaaand the erection was back.
He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, wondering what he could have done to deserve the life he’d been forced to live. One thing was certain, this hard-on was going nowhere. Funny, this sort of thing hadn’t been a problem before he met Martin. Sure, he had erections, but it was easy enough to meditate them away. It wasn’t worth the risk, opening himself up to the Shade for a few seconds of bliss. Knowing that overrode any desire he had to climax.
But the damn thing had taken on a life of its own, and tonight it would not be denied.
Merlin sighed. Really, he had no choice. He couldn’t walk around the rest of his life with his dick sticking out. So, he did what he’d denied himself since Kioshi died over a thousand years ago. He took his cock into his palm, and he stroked.
Chapter Fifteen
W illiam was twelve the first time he sparked. Seeing the room light up with the amethyst glow from his eyes almost made up for the fact that it had been triggered by yet another beating from Primeval Magnus. By his thirteenth year, a new skill revealed itself.
It was common knowledge that Vampires could manipulate the minds of lesser creatures, such as humans and non-Alpha Shifters and Weres. It was also well known that Vampires could not manipulate the minds of other Vampires, a feat that everyone knew to be impossible.
He discovered his gift quite by accident. One of his caretakers—he was much too old for nannies now—was being unreasonable. She insisted he’d misbehaved and therefore would not receive any pudding with his midnight meal. William considered it terribly unfair and, without meaning to, he pushed that thought into her mind. When his meal came, not only was there pudding, but an extra helping as well.
This sort of thing happened several times before he realized there was more than coincidence at play. That’s when he started testing it, practicing on his caretakers to see how far he could push them. It was amazing what he could make them do.
Surprisingly, he’d never considered using this new power to escape. He was still a boy, after all, and though his sessions with the Primeval were less than pleasant, they otherwise cared for him decently enough. His room was warm, his stomach full, and he had clothes on his back. One of his caretakers informed him that there were many people living in far less desirable situations, and of course he should be grateful for all the Primeval provided him. If the price for his comfortable life was a stinging backside a few times a week, so be it.
He would have liked to see the moon, though. He’d heard it was spectacular, especially when full. He’d seen plenty of drawings, but Pipa said they didn’t do it justice. Pipa taught him lots of things. Caretakers came and went, but somehow this female he’d come to think of as his mother, had managed to stick around for nearly a decade. Through all that time they kept their secrets: the hugs, the extra schooling, and most importantly, his name.
William was fifteen when that changed as well.
The Primeval had been in an exceptionally foul mood as of late, and he enjoyed taking out his frustrations on William’s backside. Normally, he used his hands, occasionally with extended claws that left rather nasty gashes on William’s rear. They always healed by the time he rose next evening, though, so William generally closed his eyes and prayed the Primeval wouldn’t drag it out too long.
However, that night, apparently William’s birthday, though he didn’t bother keeping track of such things, Magnus brought a package. “A gift,” he said, but his tone sent icy tendrils down William’s spine.
Pipa stood in the corner where Magnus commanded the caretakers to remain and watch during these sessions. When William glanced at her, she shook her head, ever so slightly, and forced a small smile. However, William could feel her panic, which only served to intensify his own.
“Come here, boy,” Magnus said, though William hardly looked a boy anymore. A growth spurt put him at nearly six feet, with broad shoulders and narrow hips. Physical appearance didn’t change the fact that he still cowered at the Primeval’s harsh demands. And this night hung heavy with the promise of something far worse than he’d ever experienced.
William hesitated, something he hadn’t done since he was very small.
“Now!” Magnus grabbed him by his long, dark hair and flung him to the floor.
Startled into obedience, William struggled to his hands and knees, the position the Primeval found most convenient for administering his punishments.
“Better,” Magnus said. “Now, for your gift.”
William’s arms shook, and he struggled to maintain the position the Primeval preferred. When the male tore the shirt from his back, William nearly collapsed with fear.
He rose his head to lock eyes with Pipa. She’d told him years ago to find her eyes during these sessions and she would feed him strength as best she could. Tonight, he feared he would require her strength more than he'd ever done before.
The sound of metal reached his ears, of chains, perhaps, and the solid thunk of something heavy hi
tting the wooden floor. Pipa’s eyes widened, and she flung her hands over her mouth, but he heard her gasp. Afraid to look, for fear of provoking the Primeval, William continued to watch his beloved Pipa. She loved him, would protect him. She’d promised nothing would ever happen that he couldn’t withstand. Now he wasn’t so sure.
The first blow came as a shock. Heavy spikes dug into his shoulder, and his arms gave out as his upper body sunk to the floor. He heard the ripping of flesh more than felt it as the weight disappeared from his body, only to land again on his raised behind. Blood pooled around him, his body having gone prone as the pain burned through him.
The room filled with amethyst light and William felt his fangs burst through his gums, but a third blow to his legs and fourth once again to his back robbed him of any fight there might have been inside him. Another blow, and then another. He lost count after that, might have blacked out, though if unconscious, the pain seared his body still.
When he opened his eyes, a new horror stood before him. The primeval, all six feet six inches of him towered over him, britches around his ankles, his thick erection swinging over William’s battered body. Magnus grabbed him by the hair again, forcing him to a sitting position, and William wretched as the horror of what the Primeval expected slapped him in the face.
“Take it, boy. In your mouth.”
William heard Pipa’s quiet sobs from the corner. She’d told him about sex, about how things were between a male and a female. She’d never said anything about this, but he knew instinctively it was wrong.
Magnus punched him in the head, and stars burst in William’s vision. Still he disobeyed.
Magnus knelt to put them at eye level, but William refused to look at him. Instead, he focused on that disturbing member dragging in the pool of blood, William’s blood, spreading at the Primeval’s knees. Once more, he wretched, the thought of putting that thing anywhere inside him sent bile climbing up his throat.
Magnus punched him again, grabbed his head in both hands, and forced William to look at him. The Primeval’s flint grey eyes were sparking now, swirling like liquid metal, and his massive fangs had extended, frightening William even more than his erection had.
“You will do as I tell you, boy, or I will kill you, and not quickly. I will tear you apart in inches until you beg me to stop. Then I’ll let you heal, and do it all over again, day after day, night after night, until you grow mad from it. And when you’ve had all you can take, I’ll shove my cock down your throat, and you’ll die with your mouth around me and my seed in your belly. Do you understand? Boy?”
William nodded as best he could with his head in the Primeval’s iron grip.
“Now, are you gonna be good?”
William nodded again, but something inside of him broke. He stared into the Primeval’s swirling eyes, and he felt the spark building in his own. As he had with his caregivers, he reached inside Magnus’ mind, searching for the most sensitive portion of the Primeval’s brain. And with as much cerebral effort as he could exert, he squeezed, wrapped a mental fist around the larger male’s pain center and tightened his grasp until the Primeval began to scream.
The vise-like grip loosened from William’s head as the Primeval reached for his own, trying to ease the pain that was now coursing through him. William sent stabbing sensations into Magnus’ mind, fed him images of a knife jamming into his brain a thousand times, and the Primeval’s screeching filled the room. William now hovered over Magnus, his hands replacing Magnus’ on the sides of the Primeval’s head, and he continued to force pain inside, to hurt, to…
“William, stop! Please, you’re killing him!”
He heard the words, but nothing could penetrate the bond he now shared with the Primeval. Nothing would break the connection. He had fifteen years of pain, of humiliation, inside him and he’d had enough. All of this, he poured into Magnus’ head in triplicate, tortured the tormentor, forced as much pain as he could into the male’s cranium and then added more.
“William, please.”
Pipa touched his arm, and he whipped his head to the side, snapped his fangs at her, his purple light streaking the walls.
“Please, William. If you kill him, the others will come. You’re only proving their case. You’re not a murderer. You’re not the prophesied beast. Please William. Please.”
When she touched his face, William shuddered and dropped his hold on the Primeval. The other male fell to the floor, his head in his hands, as he rocked himself back and forth.
Pipa pulled William into her arms and held him, whispering, “My poor, sweet William,” over and over again until his eyes faded to blue and his fangs retracted.
“Sweet William. My poor, sweet William.”
William wrapped his arms around her, his body slick with his own blood, and he cried. They held each other for a moment, an eternity, he didn’t know which as time stood still for him. There was more to his handy little gift than he’d understood. He’d nearly killed a man, a Primeval no less, and he was, after all, just a boy.
“Who the bloody hell is William?”
The sound of the Primeval’s voice startled the two apart, and Pipa scuttled back to her corner as they both realized what they had done.
William turned to the Primeval, his hands palms-up, and said, “Forgive me, my lord. I was…distraught.”
“Forgive you?” he snarled. “Forgive you? I should bloody well kill you. You,” he shouted, pointing at Pipa. “Explain yourself.”
Pipa fell to her knees and placed her forehead to the floor. “Apologies, my lord. I felt the boy could use a bit of kindness is all. No one knew, I swear it.”
“He knew.” Magnus scrambled away from William until he hit a wall, then used it to draw himself to his feet. He pointed at the door and said, “Out.”
“My lord, please don’t take it out on the boy. He didn’t know…”
“Out!”
Pipa gave William one last, long look before doing as the Primeval ordered. Her sobs echoed in William’s ears as she disappeared from the room. The pretty female with the warm smile and soothing hugs was gone, taking his heart along with her.
William never saw her again.
“Never trust the pretty ones,” Magnus said with a sneer. “They’ll break your heart every time. As for you? You want a name?” He dragged himself along the wall until he reached the door. “You think you deserve a name? Then I’ll be the one to give it to you. You’re a noxious, vile creature, and I’ve my proof now that the prophecies were right. You’re a beast with the potential to murder our entire race, but I’ll see that you never have the chance.”
He pulled himself up straight, and filled the doorway, liquid metal eddying in his fierce eyes.
“You want a bloody name, you noxious thing? Then you’ll have it. From now until the end of time, every person you meet will call you Nox.”
~~~~~
N ox felt the plane shimmy around him, pulling him from the memory.
“Attention passengers, if you look to the right, you’ll see Big Ben and Parliament. We’ll be landing in a few moments, so stow your crap and fasten your seatbelts. Ready or not, London, here we come.”
The cold sensation in Nox’s belly turned into a lump of ice that threatened to freeze him solid. He tightened his safety belt and gripped the armrests as though they were the only thing keeping him in the world he’d come to know. The horrors of his past lay just below him, waiting like a dragon in its den for him to step foot back into that gilded cage he’d worked so hard to escape. Once he did, it was but a matter of time before he would be burned to cinders, along with everything he’d grown to love.
He looked up to find Rachel watching him, but even the warmth of her eyes upon him did nothing to thaw the terror coating his insides. All too soon, he would be face to face with the male who’d made his life a living hell and that would be the end of it. One didn’t escape the dragon twice.
Chapter Sixteen
R achel strapped in at Harr
ier’s announcement, marveling at how the plane barely shuttered as her brother expertly touched the Cessna’s wheels to the ground. When asked, he’d informed her that they were landing at Biggin Hill, a major private airport, where human businessmen shuttled here and there at all hours of the day. What the homo sapiens didn’t know was that the little air strip they relied upon was in fact owned by the Primeval. While it had extensive daylight hours available for the sun-loving creatures, the nights were reserved for Vampires.
She glanced at Nox, who once again sat white-knuckling it in the seat across from her. She would have been happy to hold his hand, to distract him from what he feared, but they hadn’t spoken much since he shut her down.
She’d spent the rest of the long flight with her nose buried in James Patterson’s latest thriller or napping. She refused to acknowledge, even to herself, how hurt she was by Nox’s blatant dismissal. She reminded herself once again that she had no need for a male in her life. Too many complications, especially with one of her own race.
At times like this, she missed her human husband fiercely, even all these decades later. The lack of companionship and comradery, the intimacy of sharing her life with someone who cherished her as much as she did him, sometimes the emptiness was overwhelming. But then she thought about the Warlord’s awkward attempt at dating her, of the impossible male currently giving his armrests a stress test, and it was clear. She was better off alone, focusing on her niece and nephew.
And yet, for one brief second, she could have sworn Nox watched her with more than casual interest, and that niggling feeling inside of her reminded her how much she liked it. No matter. Every time she thought they were getting somewhere, he closed up like Wal-Mart on Christmas Day.
Let him break the armrests. What did she care?
Harrier maneuvered their jet to a huge hanger where a boy with two cone-shaped flashlights waved him inside. When the plane came to a stop, Rachel unbuckled and stood up to stretch, to gather her belongings, as Mason and Raven did the same.