by Lynn Hagen
He just wasn’t sure how he was going to handle the incriminating download. He had the tech track down who stole the files, and he was told a team was on their way to Nevada.
O’Hanlon prayed it was Enrique who hacked into his computer. Then the son of a bitch would know why he was dying when the team showed up and eviscerated his ass.
Ian opened his eyes, glancing around the unfamiliar room. There was a cheap painting on the wall, a lake scene of some sort. There was also a television sitting on a dresser, an alarm clock, and a small plastic holder with motel pamphlets.
He lay there, listening, holding his breath. The last thing he remembered was seeing a black jaguar tear Newman to pieces.
But this could be a trick. There was no telling what Newman was capable of doing. The man had tortured him in ways that would forever leave a scar on Ian’s soul, and right now he wanted to believe he was safe, but he didn’t trust the vampire.
A light snore made Ian turn his head. He stilled, his eyes raking over Mason’s face, watching him as the man slept. For the past few days Ian had been seeing and hearing things that he knew not to be real. He was sleep deprived in the worst way. Was this another illusion? Was Mason really lying next to him?
Had Newman found the ultimate way to torture him?
Ian slid from the bed, making sure not to jostle the sleeping man. He needed time away from everyone. For over a week Ian had been constantly surrounded, constantly watched. He needed time to take everything in, time to think.
He moved across the room, sitting in the corner, pulling his legs up to his chest, and took a deep breath in, letting it out slowly. A fine thread of suffocating panic was trying to settle inside of him, but Ian was fighting to keep it out. Mason had said that they were friends. The man had told Ian that he didn’t need a Master.
Mason had no idea just how much Ian craved one.
A good one, not the way the vampires were with him, but someone who knew what Ian needed, what he had desired for so long. He hugged his legs, resting his cheek on his knees, wishing someone would take him as theirs, and that someone would take over for him.
A chill began to fill Ian. Not because he was cold, but because he was so utterly alone. He had Dorian, but the man still didn’t understand Ian, even if they were talking now.
Nobody understood him.
Having his brother back was great, but the void he felt deep inside of him hadn’t been filled. He was still lost in his own mind, his own world, and it seemed he would remain that way for the rest of his life.
No one wanted to take him on. Ian was left to fend for himself and that was the most terrifying feeling in the world.
Mason would have been the perfect person, but the guy was pretending nothing was wrong, using friendship to try and fill the hole that had been eating away at Ian for years. Sadly, the man didn’t understand Ian either.
Ian blinked a few times as he stared into the dark room and knew now that he was fully awake and that Newman had truly died.
Now that Newman was gone, Ian felt like there was no one he could—oh god, why was he thinking this way? Newman had been a twisted and sick fuck, and Ian was sitting here in the dark missing him. That only showed how screwed up he truly was.
But knowing he had someone had made things a little easier to bear. Now he had nothing but a craving to be dominated, to be loved. Calico and Newman hadn’t given Ian what he needed, definitely not love, but they had given him something.
Something…
Having something—even if it was nightmarish—was better than having nothing at all.
Ian raked his hands through his hair, feeling the chill grow deeper. For years he had craved, needed, thirsted, and desired, and those feelings hadn’t gone away. They had only gotten worse, more intense, eating away at him with such deep hunger that Ian thought he was going to go mad.
“What are you doing down there?”
The deep rumble of Mason’s voice brought Ian from his thoughts. He pulled his hands from his hair as he tilted his head up, looking at Mason lying in the bed, his eyes filled with sleep and concern.
“I—” Ian wanted to say he was starving, that his body was caving in on itself from lack of guidance and someone to make him feel clean—but he closed his mouth, knowing Mason didn’t want to hear any of that and most definitely wouldn’t understand what Ian was going through.
Mason’s light-blue eyes were penetrating, so piercing that Ian turned his head and looked away. Ian felt ashamed at what he craved and what he desired. Having Mason watch him as he silently fell apart in the corner of some unfamiliar room only solidified Ian’s belief that he was so utterly alone.
Just a junkie.
Nothing special.
Nothing spectacular.
He heard Mason moving around, and then the man was down at Ian’s side, pulling him into such a powerful embrace that Ian wasn’t sure if he should push the man away or cry.
“You’re not alone.”
Ian rested his cheek against Mason’s chest, wishing the man was speaking the truth, but knew they were just softly spoken words, empty and void of any real truth.
“Ian, you have to tell me what’s going on with you. How can I help you if I don’t know?” Mason cupped the back of Ian’s head, his fingers giving his scalp a gentle massage. Whether Mason knew it or not, right now, with what he was doing, he was giving Ian more than he had had in a very long time.
“Heal me,” Ian said in a tortured whisper, clutching Mason’s shirt.
Mason pulled Ian back, just an inch, but enough to study his eyes. “How?”
Ian pushed at Mason’s chest. When the man let him go, Ian moved away. He positioned himself on his knees, lay forward, and then clasped his hands behind his back, resting his cheek on the carpet.
“Ian?” Mason’s voice was barely audible. “I’m not sure what you want me to do.”
Ian lifted his head. He had to blink a few times to keep back the tears. “Whatever your heart tells you to do.”
Ian held his breath, praying—god, he was praying so hard that his head began to hurt and his stomach became one big nerve that was twisting and locking as he lay there, waiting.
Mason moved closer, his heat brushing the surface of Ian’s side. He wanted that heat to envelop him so badly that Ian damn near begged.
He felt the featherlight touch on his back. Ian’s eyes fluttered closed as his breathing became shallow but quick.
Soft fingers slid down his spine and then tentatively touched his entwined hands. Ian didn’t move. He didn’t breathe—his mind froze as Mason moved closer, his other hand brushing gently over Ian’s hair.
“Your skin is so soft.” A silken whisper that made Ian’s nerve endings ignite, chasing away the chill lying just under his skin.
When Mason’s hands began to move away, Ian almost collapsed with disappointment. “Please,” Ian said in desperate hunger, a hunger that was tearing him to pieces. “Don’t stop, please, Mason.”
“Just touch you?”
“Yes, please.” Ian wanted more, but touching was a start. He would take whatever Mason gave him. Ian’s breath stuttered when Mason’s finger traced the shell of his ear. He moved his head, leaning into the touch. Ian knew better than to move, but he was starving for attention, craving what Mason was so willingly giving him at the moment.
“Sit up.” The command was sharp.
Ian pushed to his knees and was shocked when Mason gripped his hair and pulled his head back, his lips pressing hard into Ian’s. Mason’s other hand continued to skim over Ian’s skin, setting small fires wherever the man’s hand touched him. He still didn’t understand his reaction to Mason. Usually when someone touched him like this, their hands on his body, Ian was repulsed, praying they left him alone.
Now, he only wanted more.
“Mine,” Mason growled into Ian’s mouth.
Ian tilted his head back, his lips parted, his chest rising and falling rapidly as Mason gazed into his eyes. “I
tried to give you friendship, but I can scent a hunger so deep inside of you that it has wrapped around your heart and is slowly killing you,” Mason stated with a fierce tone that made Ian shiver.
“It is,” Ian admitted with a shaky breath.
There was a hard glint in Mason’s eyes. Ian wasn’t sure where it had come from, but the etched lines around the man’s mouth told Ian that Mason wasn’t playing around. He was dead serious.
“You’re mine, Ian.” The words were spoken through a clenched jaw as Mason’s eyes turned to blue fire. “You will forget everything those bloodsucking vampires have ever taught you. Understood?”
Ian’s eyes closed to half-mast, his lips curving into the first real smile he had felt in longer than he could remember. “Yes.”
Mason’s hand skimmed down Ian’s throat. His smile faltered and for a second fear filled Ian. He was savagely choked whenever Newman had done the same thing. Ian wanted to struggle, to push Mason’s hand away, but the hand didn’t close around him. It just stayed on his neck, unmoving. Ian’s fear began to slowly fade when he realized that Mason wasn’t going to hurt him.
“Better?” Mason asked after a long moment of intense silence.
Ian gave a slight nod.
“I will erase every trigger those bastards have instilled in you.” Mason was staring into Ian’s eyes, but he wasn’t sure if the man was talking to Ian or himself.
Ian wasn’t sure where this aggressive behavior was coming from, either. Mason had been nothing but gentle with him. It was as if a switch had been clicked on inside of the guy.
“I’m jaguar, Ian.” Mason said, as if answering Ian’s thoughts. “I’m aggressive, possessive, and dominating as hell. It’s hardwired into my DNA. You want me to take over your life and give you what you are hungry for?”
Ian nodded as a warm power began to sink deep inside of him, claiming his frigid depth, setting fire to a place that had been glacial for so long.
“Then I can do this only one way.” Mason leaned closer, running his cheek over Ian’s, his fingers that had been resting on Ian’s throat reaching up and sliding through his hair, giving it a light tug. “My way,” Mason stated firmly into Ian’s ear.
“Can I ask something of you?” Ian’s voice was shaky, proof that he was teetering on the edge of hope and desperation.
Mason glanced at him, and the stroke of his eyes was a sensual caress that Ian could almost feel. “Go ahead.”
Ian felt a fine tremor begin to vibrate inside of him as he locked eyes with Mason. “Never let me go.”
Chapter Twenty
Mason held on to Ian, needing the closeness as all changelings did, but giving Ian what he needed as well. The man was filled with so many scars—physical and emotional—that Mason feared he wouldn’t be able to heal the man.
Ian was his to hold, his mate, a man who was so lost inside himself that Mason was determined to reach him and pull him into the light. He had feared his reaction to Ian. The reaction that made Mason want to dominate the man—the aggressive urge to control his every move. But it seemed Ian needed just that. Ian was begging for Mason to unleash the Dom he held inside of him.
If that was what it took to heal his mate, to help him through this hell he had lived in for so long, then Mason would be whatever Ian needed him to be.
He knew what Ian meant when he asked Mason to never let him go. The smaller man wasn’t asking to be hugged. “You are my mate, Ian. There isn’t a chance in hell I’ll ever leave your side.”
Ian looked confused for a second and then he nodded. “When you bit me,” he murmured.
“Yes,” Mason answered. “When I bit you, I was trying to get you away from Newman, to cast him out, but it also bound us together, something I don’t regret happening.”
Mason moved, slowly, sinuously, like a lazy cat as he pulled Ian up to straddle his lap. “But I still haven’t claimed you in the way that I have been craving to.” His fingers moved to the drawstring of Ian’s pants.
“Mason,” Ian said, and Mason could scent his mate’s fear once more. It wasn’t overwhelming, but enough to give him pause.
“Yes?” His fingers played at the waistband as he waited for Ian to tell him what was wrong. When the man said nothing, Mason glanced up. “Answer me, Ian,” Mason said firmly. He was beginning to realize that the man wasn’t as forthcoming as Mason would like if he didn’t demand it from Ian. It dawned on Mason that just talking to Ian wasn’t going to always work. The man had been horribly abused and very skittish.
But who wouldn’t be after what those vampires had done to the small human?
“I don’t…” Ian looked down to where Mason was playing with his mate’s skin, teasing it, running the tips of his fingers over Ian’s navel, making small circles, and then gliding back down to the waistband. He wasn’t going to stop tracing Ian’s skin. Not only did Mason crave touch, but he was showing his mate that touching was going to be a very integral part of their lives.
“Like sex,” Ian finished with a loud swallow.
Mason shouldn’t have been stunned after what the man had been through, but he was. He managed to keep the surprised look off of his face as he lifted Ian’s hand, placing the delicate fingers on his chest. Ian’s hand was shaking as Mason said, “I’m your source of strength. When you feel like you are slipping through the cracks and falling to the depths of what those monsters have done to you, reach for me. I’ll always be where you need me to be.”
Ian curled his fingers into Mason’s shirt, giving it a slight tug. “The sorrow eats at me. I feel so damn alone. I’m starving for someone, anyone to take me under their wing and show me what it should be like. I can barely breathe most days. I’m constantly screaming inside my head from a dark abyss that refuses to let me go.”
The man was breaking Mason’s heart once more, but he had to make Ian see the truth. “That abyss is you, Ian. The only one refusing to let go is you. Submit to me, in every way, and I promise, with time, the darkness you feel will fade.”
“Every way?” Ian asked, his eyes skeptical.
Mason leaned forward and nipped Ian’s chin, even though he knew the man was averse to biting. He was going to get his mate past that as well. When he sank his teeth into Ian’s shoulder, Mason was going to make damn sure the man associated biting with him—not vampires, and most certainly not getting high. “Every way, Ian.”
The beast yowled softly as Mason stood, carrying Ian to the bed. “Tonight is about trust, Ian. You will give me yours and I will show you that you have nothing to fear from me.”
Because even though they had kissed before tonight, and Ian had tried in the past to give himself to Mason, fear had been the overwhelming scent coming off of the man.
But tonight, Mason was going to show the small human just what pleasure was all about. He was going to gain Ian’s trust and show the man there was nothing in the world that would make Mason hurt him.
Mason laid his mate on the bed and then pulled the man’s shirt over his head, but didn’t take it fully off. The shirt trapped Ian’s arms behind his back, leaving Ian totally vulnerable to Mason.
His mate’s pale skin was revealed to him, two brown nipples peaked, but it was the many scars that Mason traced his fingers over. They weren’t his marks, but another’s, and they hadn’t been given to Ian with love.
The knowledge made his jaguar growl.
His mate lay there, one foot planted on the bed, the other dangling over the edge. His cobalt-blue eyes were watching Mason’s fingers, his slim chest taking in shallow breaths.
Ian was nervous. Mason could not only see it in the man’s eyes, but scent it as well.
Mason took a step back, appraising how beautiful Ian looked semi-trapped on the bed. “This is the beginning, Ian.”
Ian’s head lifted, his eyes rising only as far as Mason’s chest.
“Look at me,” Mason commanded evenly, firmly. “You will meet my eyes when I’m speaking to you.”
It looked like I
an was struggling to do as Mason ordered, but he finally met Mason’s gaze, although his eyes kept flickering, as if he was fighting not to look away.
“Tonight is also about you.” Mason stepped forward and let his fingers wander back down toward Ian’s waistband, “about giving you something you’ve never had before.”
Ian looked like he wasn’t sure if he should bolt from the room or trust Mason. “W–What is that?”
“Pleasure.” Mason reached inside Ian’s thin pants, circling his hand around Ian’s flaccid cock. His thumb began to caress the head, giving the soft shaft small strokes. “No pain, Ian. Just pleasure.” Mason knelt before Ian, pulling the pants down Ian’s waist and taking the man’s limp shaft into his mouth.
Ian gasped, his hips jerking. Mason had a feeling receiving oral sex was something Ian had never had the pleasure of feeling. That was going to change. This wasn’t only about what Ian needed, but showing him things he didn’t even know he wanted.
As Mason licked around the soft skin, Ian’s cock began to lengthen. He placed his hands under Ian’s thighs, pulling away long enough to lift the man’s legs, and then engulfed his mate’s now-hard cock once again. When he glanced up, Ian’s hands were scrambling on the bed, grabbing at the blankets, curling into the thin fabric until his knuckles turned white.
Mason knew the man was starving for affection, hurting for someone to love him the way only a…Master could. He didn’t want Ian to call him Master, though. Sir would do just fine. The man had waited a lifetime for this, and Mason was going to give him everything he needed, everything he craved, and so much more.
Ian whimpered, his legs shaking.
Mason pulled away. “Tell me how I make you feel. I want to hear the noises you are holding back. Whisper in the dark, give me what you’ve never given anyone else.” His mate had feared for so long, had held back what he really wanted. No more. Mason was going to help Ian become the man he knew Ian could be.
Ian cried out, his voice strangled, high-pitched, and tear-filled as Mason swallowed him down. The smaller man’s body shuddered, shook, and writhed as Mason used Ian’s hard cock to fuck his own mouth. His fingers gripped Ian’s thighs harder, but not enough to cause pain.