“You think we might be attacked?”
“No. But I think we’d be wise to keep a watch. From up there, we can see everything for miles.”
“Good thinking.” Jonas nodded.
“Your cuffs are dirty.” That wasn’t like Jonas at all.
“I was working in the garden.” Rather than looking cross or put out by his shift from idle dandy to farm laborer, Jonas looked proud. “I think I’ll have developed my first callus by the end of the week.”
McBride remembered when Jonas said he wanted to be Ollie’s thrall and that he was willing to work the fields to be with him. Lifting their hands and turning them over, McBride had pointed out that while Ollie’s hand was rough from work, Jonas’s was so soft it was practically useless. Looking at his hands now made McBride realize that Jonas was going to be far more help around the farm than he ever thought.
“I’m sorry for what I said about your hands that day in Ollie’s house. I’ve misjudged you terribly.”
“You were right. I’d never done a day of work in my life, but that doesn’t mean I’m not willing to change.”
“You really want to be here.”
“I do. And it’s more than just being with Ollie. It’s this land.” Jonas sighed, his joy despite the harsh circumstances clear. “I don’t know why, but even when I was here with your father, I felt this sense of belonging. The day I stepped my foot on the black, dusty soil I just felt that I’d finally found my home.”
“I never really did think of this place as my home.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. So much of my father’s real life was obscure, and I found out only terrible things about him and what he did. But now, with this upheaval, I feel this place is becoming my home. More so each day.” McBride also thought the responsibility of that might have prompted him to indulge in a liquid escape.
“I’m glad you feel a part of things now.”
“It is your home for as long as you want to be here, Jonas. No matter what happens, you’re welcome on my land.”
“Thank you.” Jonas turned as if to go but turned back. “What about you?”
“What about me?”
“Do you feel that you want to stay here? Having it feel like home is one thing, but wanting to run it and be a part of it is another.”
McBride thought about it, but his head ached and his body felt like he needed a week of sleep. “I don’t know. I think I can make a life here. I’ve always thought that I could be happy here, but it’s never felt like I really must be here to be happy.” McBride sighed. “I always thought if I had a mate in my bed that would be the ticket, but that won’t happen now.”
“Never say never. You of all people should know that.” Jonas sighed. “Do you want me and Ollie to hold off on telling the brothers?”
“No. Tell them. Just be prepared for some hurt and anger.”
As McBride left the big house and walked across the yard to Gannon’s, he considered what Jonas had said. Never say never was a trite saying, but maybe there was hope. Not with Caleb. McBride had slammed that door, locked it, then braced it with steel bars for good measure. But Caleb wasn’t the only man in the world. There were lots of men. Surely, there was one out there for McBride. As soon as he found all his slammers mates, he would get to work finding a man of his own. He would need one who wouldn’t mind that he’d taken false vows with another landed gentryman. And one who was willing to accept that, though McBride might come to love him in a way, a part of his heart would always belong to Caleb.
As if summoned, Caleb stepped out of his house. All he wore was the tight shorts that left most of his body exposed so he could drink up sunshine like it was some kind of body enhancer. It must be because Caleb seemed to put on more muscle every day. Damn that the man always looked like walking sex. In his hungover and crotchety mood, McBride was somehow angry at Caleb when his body reacted to the sight of him by hardening his dick.
McBride stared at him, waiting for Caleb to say something rude or snarky, but he didn’t even glance at him. Caleb left his house and cut across the road in the direction of the equipment shed. McBride could have stopped him and asked what he was doing. It was still his land after all, but he knew if he did he was only trying to push Caleb into some small act of defiance. Jonas had suggested that McBride should toss Caleb in the stocks and fuck him until the twisted lust that ate at his soul was utterly spent, but McBride simply couldn’t do that.
He wanted to fuck Caleb all right, but he wanted to do it while they were alone. He wanted to kiss him for hours and explore all of those bronzed muscles of his. He wanted to bring him to the brink of orgasm and then hold release tauntingly out of reach. McBride wanted to do a million and one things with Caleb, and none of them involved any kind of pain, shame, or degradation. He wanted to praise him, worship him, command him, and just plain be with him.
“But that is not going to happen.” McBride tried to shut the thoughts off, but when he was unsuccessful, he instead pushed them to the back of his mind. About the only good thing thinking of Caleb had done for him was extend his canines. Usually, just the thought of blood did that, but McBride had no real hunger lately. The only time he wanted food, blood, or sex was when he thought of Caleb.
He stepped up onto Gannon’s porch and knocked at the door. After a moment, Gannon answered, greeted him warmly, and ushered him inside.
“Wow.”
“I know.” Gannon grinned. “Alden is a real stickler for keeping things clean.”
Gannon’s house used to look like a giant had picked it up and shook it, distributing all his possessions randomly inside, but now it was perfectly organized and remarkably homey. There was even a sweet scent of some kind of treat lingering in the air.
“It really looks great.” McBride pointed to the corner of the living room. “What has he done to your gamer?”
“Well, we found some old parts in the shed and added another interface so Alden can play with me.”
“And he enjoys that?”
“He does. Not as much as I love it, but I read with him, which he really loves. It’s more about enjoying doing things together than enjoying exactly what we’re doing.”
“It sounds like you two have made a real go of things.” McBride was pleased. Matchmaking was never easy, especially when all he’d done was let fate direct which slammer got which thrall. He wondered if Jared and Easton were working out. Perhaps after he fed from Gannon he would go over there and see for himself.
“But I imagine it’s the same for you and Jonas.”
McBride almost corrected him but nodded instead. “I know it’s early in the day, but do you mind if I feed?”
“No, not at all.” Gannon moved over to the kitchen table. He sat down, bared his neck, and waited for McBride to drink his fill.
“Where’s Alden?” McBride got behind Gannon and fiddled with his shirt collar. It wasn’t in the way, but he wasn’t really thirsty anymore. His canines had retracted to only half.
“He’s helping Ferris organize Bailey’s house.”
“Bailey’s pretty clean.”
“Cleaned and organized are two different things, according to my mate.” Gannon said mate with such pride that McBride found himself envious. Was everyone destined for happiness but him? Reaching out, he traced his finger over the scar on Gannon’s neck, enjoying the power he had to make Gannon shiver.
“Did you enjoy it when Jonas fed from you?” McBride had no idea why he’d asked such a thing. It didn’t matter to him in the least, but he suddenly felt like he was competing with Jonas for his own slammers when technically, given that they were companions, the Morgan brothers were their slammers now.
“I guess.” Gannon sat still for a moment then turned his head to look back at McBride. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” Deliberately, McBride pushed his head to the side, lowered his mouth, and drank. He tasted the blood, and it was good, but he was indifferent. His ear ached and burned, but h
e didn’t want to fiddle with it now. He finished drinking, licked the wound closed, and then left without a word.
As he crossed the yard, he felt jittery and out of sorts. He wasn’t himself, and it seemed that everyone on the farm knew it. What was wrong with him? He knew he didn’t have whatever had ailed Larsden, because he didn’t have an insatiable urge to drink. Instead, he wanted to hole up in his room and eschew everyone’s company. He wanted to be alone and drink alcohol and then sleep so he could rest without dreams.
That stopped him in his tracks.
The dreams.
That was why he’d guzzled the booze last night. He knew from past experience that alcohol blotted out his dreams. He slept poorly, woke unrested, but he also didn’t experience any dreams, which was why he wanted to consume more brandy. It wasn’t the feeling the booze gave him, but the side effect that it had. Dreamless sleep was what he craved because when the dreams came they tormented him.
His gaze went to the equipment shed. Inside was darkness, but as he watched, his eyes grew accustomed. Into the swath of light that poured through the door stepped Caleb. Strong sunlight turned his black body hair a glowing reddish brown that made him seem as if he were shining from within. Convinced it was a trick of his bleary eyes, McBride lifted his hands and rubbed his fingertips over his closed eyelids. After blinking several times, he looked again, and Caleb was still there, glowing with that odd ethereal beauty.
A hunger for blood hit him so hard and fast he almost dropped down to his knees in the dirt. It wasn’t Larsden’s sickness at all. He was craving blood, but he was craving the blood of one man. McBride hungered for Caleb. He didn’t want gobs of blood from every slammer he owned. McBride wanted blood from only one man. He wanted Caleb’s blood. But he couldn’t indulge himself. He was too sick and too woozy to fight. One time of Caleb getting the upper hand would destroy McBride’s authority in Caleb’s eyes and possibly with his brothers. No. He was safer to walk away and find something else to soothe his sudden, shocking hunger.
Into his mind popped the bottle of brandy in the cupola. He could sit up there, drink, and tell everyone he was playing lookout. It was pathetic, but it would get him the privacy he so desperately needed. McBride realized he could always retire to his room and sleep the day away claiming illness, but that would make him look weak. He couldn’t be seen lounging while everyone else worked.
He was on the verge of entering the big house and hiding himself away in the uppermost room when Jared’s voice called to him.
“McBride?”
He wanted to keep on going as if he hadn’t heard him. The last thing he wanted to do tonight was play witness to another pair of men binding their bodies, souls, and blood. Jonas had said he’d do it, but Jared might feel more comfortable with McBride there. He didn’t think he could control himself. Worse, he feared it would set up a gnawing hunger that could only be soothed if he went to Caleb’s door afterward. What shocked him was that more than drilling his teeth into Caleb’s neck or his cock into his ass, he wanted to ask what he did at night as he hunched over the dining room table. What made Caleb tic? What was it that he did while in prison, waiting for his youngest brother to be old enough to be sold?
“McBride?”
Again, Jared called. This time there was something about the pitch of his voice that concerned McBride. Something was wrong, and Jared sounded terrified. Even though he wanted to put himself and his needs first, McBride turned on his heel and strode over to Jared’s house.
Chapter 8
“I know you’re busy, but I’m afraid I hurt him.” Jared held the door open, but once McBride was inside, he closed it and then stood in his living room, bouncing from foot to foot like a child in dire need of the restroom.
“You think you hurt Easton?” McBride looked around.
“He’s still in bed.”
McBride grimaced then strode that direction.
Jared was right on his heels.
Once inside the bedroom, McBride stumbled then reached for the light. “I can’t see anything.”
“He said the light hurt his eyes.”
“Easton?”
“I’m here.” His voice sounded dreadfully weak.
“I’m going to turn on the light. Cover your eyes with your hand, all right?”
“Yes, sir.”
After a moment, McBride flicked on the light. Easton was swaddled up in bed, his forearm over his eyes. He looked pale, but that might be because the bedding was all in very dark navy blue.
“What happened?” McBride moved to the bedside and settled on the edge. He reached out to Easton, which caused Jared to flare with anger, but he quickly squashed the irrational rage. McBride was here to help, not harm his mate. Jared settled on the other side of the bed.
“I don’t feel well.” Easton’s arm muffled his voice, but it was still understandable.
“Did you and Jared have sex last night?”
When Easton didn’t answer, Jared felt his belly fall down to his feet. Had he hurt him by being too rough? He thought he’d taken his time and prepped his mate thoroughly. Terror made him tremble as he turned toward McBride.
“I was looking at him and then teasing him with my finger. I got greasers from my brother, but I went slowly. I thought—I thought it felt as good to him as it did to me.” Jared couldn’t have felt worse. All he’d wanted to do was give his mate pleasure, but instead all he’d done was give him pain. “I’m so sorry.”
Easton uncovered his eyes and looked at Jared. He didn’t look in pain, he looked guilty. “I can’t do this.”
“What do you mean?” Jared reached out and took his hand. “If you’re hurt, I’ll get you help, I’ll do everything I can.”
“It’s not what you did, but what I did.” Easton turned to McBride. “Please don’t be angry with me.”
“I want you to sit up and explain.” Normally, McBride was very calm, but today he seemed cross.
Tentatively, Easton rose until he was sitting in bed. His eyes were sunken, and Jared realized he’d been crying. Now the curious sound he’d heard last night made sense. His mate had been in tears, and he’d put a pillow over his head so he could get some sleep. He berated himself for being such a jerk.
“I should have told you the truth, but I was afraid you wouldn’t buy me, and I didn’t want to go back to the thrall house.” Easton’s hand crept up to his neck and rested there.
“Tell me the truth now.” McBride sounded so tired that Jared wouldn’t be surprised if he fell asleep right here and now. “I can’t handle any games, not when things are in such upheaval.”
“With the whole world changing I thought maybe that’s why I didn’t want to say.” Easton looked at Jared. “I really like you.”
“I like you, too.”
“But you wanted to examine me and make sure I wasn’t broken before you claimed me. You didn’t want damaged goods.”
Jared frowned, confused and hurt because he thought they’d settled all of this last night.
“I was used.” Easton dropped his gaze away and winced his eyes closed.
A bolt of anger stiffened Jared’s spine. “What?” He’d looked at Easton’s tender pink hole for a long time yesterday. After slipping his finger in and out and then his prick, he thought he could testify to the fact that Easton came to him untouched. But then again, he knew nothing about sex. Easton had been formally trained. Had he done something to make his body seem virginal when it wasn’t?
Before Jared could react, McBride placed his massive hands on Easton’s shoulders and bodily lifted him out of bed. Easton’s eyes went wide, and his bottom lip trembled.
“Who touched you?” McBride asked as he shook him.
Easton stuttered but couldn’t answer. Where Jared had been furious that he’d been duped just moments ago, now he was terrified that his master was going to rip his mate apart with his bare hands. McBride, who had always seemed the kindest and most benevolent man, was now red faced with fury. He was ho
lding Easton up and didn’t show one bit of strain.
Without a word, McBride hefted Easton onto his shoulder and strode from the bedroom. Jared was hot on his heels, but he could barely keep up with McBride’s ground-eating strides. If not for his boots, he’d be lagging behind even worse than he was, but luckily he’d gotten dressed in a hurry when he’d seen McBride leaving Gannon’s house. For all he could tell, his master was taking Easton into the big house. But why? To beat the answer out of him?
Easton was blubbering and squirming against McBride’s fearsome hold, his terrified eyes wide as he reached for Jared, but Easton wasn’t going anywhere. If anything, his struggles just made McBride hang on to him with greater intent.
“Put him down!” Jared ran behind and tried to grasp on to Easton, but he couldn’t keep up with McBride.
With the power of an unstoppable machine, McBride marched up the steps and kicked the front door of the big house open. He kept right on going into the parlor. Once there, he literally threw Easton down on a small couch.
“Who touched you?” McBride demanded, looming over him.
“No—no one touched me!” Easton was trembling all over.
Jared didn’t care if McBride ripped his arms off. He was going to protect Easton. He was less than half McBride’s size. Stepping in between them was possibly the most brave and simultaneously foolish thing he’d ever done, but Jared did it because this wasn’t the way to find out the truth.
“Please stop.” Jared lifted a beseeching hand to McBride. “You’re terrifying him for no reason.”
“I thought you didn’t want a used thrall?” McBride now turned his frightful attention onto Jared.
“I don’t. But I don’t want you to hurt him when we don’t know what happened.”
“I know what happened. He let someone use him. And then he allowed himself to be sold off to me without coming clean. That merchant lied by omission before. Now he has again. I’m going to hunt him down. I’m going to—to—I…” McBride seemed to suddenly awaken. He looked around as if seeing where he was, but he seemed not to know what was going on. He peered at Easton, who was trembling in a corner of the couch while Jared did his best to block his slender body with his bigger one.
Jared Morgan [Seven Brothers for McBride 4] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) Page 7