Rise to Submit [Rise of the Changelings, Book 4] (Siren Publishing Epic Romance, ManLove)

by Lynn Hagen

  Not again. He had lost Henderson once. Grabbing his bag from the floor, Freedman made his way out of his motel room. Omar was standing outside, gazing off into the woods.

  “Something out there?” Freedman asked.

  Omar turned and looked at him and once again Freedman could feel the air leaving his lungs. The man was nothing short of breathtaking. His light-blue eyes studied Freedman, and then he shook his head. “No, just thinking.” He glanced at Freedman’s bag. “Where are you going?”

  “To help a friend stay alive.” He knew he would have to find a vehicle to use. The Rebellion group only had two, and they needed them. Albuquerque wasn’t too far away. Freedman could find a vehicle there.

  “Can I go with you?” Omar asked when Freedman walked to Rick’s door to let the alpha know he was leaving. It wasn’t Omar’s question that threw him off. It was his tone of voice. The man sounded dejected.

  Freedman studied him for a long moment. For a second, the mist fell from Omar’s eyes and Freedman saw the real man. It wasn’t a pretty sight. Omar looked like he had no one in this world. “I can’t guarantee your safety.”

  “Neither can Rick. But I’d like to get away from this for a while.”

  Freedman hitched his bag higher onto his shoulder. “I’m not going on vacation. There is no rest where I’m going.”

  Omar slipped his hand into his front pocket and met Freedman’s gaze. “Just say you don’t want me to go. You don’t have to keep throwing excuses at me.”

  “It isn’t that,” Freedman said, puzzled by Omar’s behavior. “I just want you to know what you are facing.”

  Omar nodded solemnly. “And you’ve warned me.”

  Freedman felt himself nod faintly in return, but inside he was unsure what to think. “Get your bag. We’ll be walking to the next town.”

  Omar was gone before Freedman had a chance to turn and knock. What a very bizarre conversation.

  After explaining to Rick about Henderson, Freedman waited until Omar was by his side, bag secured to his back, before he set off to go save his best friend.

  Ian glanced up when someone knocked on their door. Mason was sitting at the table reading over the local paper. Ian was on his knees at Mason’s feet, his wrists locked at his sides, his ankles locked together with ankle cuffs, and a ball gag in his mouth.

  “Come in.”

  The door opened and Ian could see Dorian pause. His eyes flickered over Ian, his brows furrowed. “Should I come back?”

  Mason glanced down at Ian and then shook his head. “No. Was there something you needed?”

  Dorian looked uncomfortable as hell as he glanced down at Ian again. “Okay, I can’t take it anymore. Why is he like that?”

  Mason set his paper down, eyeing Dorian. “Are you asking because you are curious, or are you asking to start trouble?”

  Dorian rolled his eyes. “I’m curious as hell. I won’t say seeing Ian like that isn’t a little disturbing, but I promised him I would try and understand.”

  Mason reached over and ran his fingers over Ian’s hair, playing with the long ends. “He needed extra guidance this morning. We are also working on boundaries today. He needs to not only learn them for himself, but for others as well.”

  Dorian took a seat across from Mason, which surprised Ian. The man didn’t look as flustered as Ian thought he would. “So why didn’t you just talk to him?”

  “Because talking to Ian doesn’t always work. Sometimes he needs that added security. Binding and gagging him seems to ground him.”

  Dorian’s eyes cut over to Ian. “Does it hurt?”

  “No,” Mason answered for Ian. “And for future reference, you are to address me, not Ian. I’ll let him know when he can speak.”

  Dorian scratched his chin. “I have to say, this is the strangest thing I have ever seen.”

  “Only because you don’t understand your brother’s needs,” Mason answered calmly.

  “No,” Dorian replied. “I don’t. I never saw a need in him before, when we were at home.” Dorian glanced over at Ian, but looked back at Mason. “Did he always have this need and just never showed it?”

  Releasing Ian’s hair, Mason turned fully toward Dorian. “Tell me what he was like in his late teen years.”

  Ian could tell Dorian was giving it careful thought. When Dorian had told Ian he would try to understand, Ian had thought the man wasn’t serious, but from the look on his face, he could tell Dorian was truly trying to grasp the concept.

  “He was moody, kept to himself a lot, and stopped coming around me so much,” Dorian finally answered. “I thought he was a just going through normal teen shit.”

  If his brother only knew even half the truth. Ian lowered his head, feeling the shame wash over him once more at what he had allowed himself to go through.

  “Raise your head, Ian,” Mason commanded. “Shame is not something I’m going to allow you to feel right now. Everyone makes mistakes. The important thing is that you are trying to clean yourself up. You have absolutely nothing to feel ashamed of. Remember our lesson from last night and recite it in your head.”

  Dorian stood and then dropped down next to Ian. “I’m sorry Mason, but this I have to say to Ian.” Dorian turned back around. “I’m not trying to make you feel ashamed, Ian. I told you before that I love you. I’ll always love you. You made mistakes. But you are back with us now.”

  Ian could feel the tears falling down his cheeks as he pulled away from Dorian. He couldn’t take it. This was just too much for him right now. The guilt was so fierce that it felt alive, breaking through his body like a living entity trying to get free and take over. Not even Mason’s lessons were helping at the moment. Ian knew it would take time, but hearing Dorian talk about shame made Ian feel dirty all over again.

  “Get out,” Mason growled at Dorian. “I told you he is not to be directly addressed!”

  “But he’s my brother!”

  Ian curled inside of himself, his back remembering every lash, every cut, his body echoing every cruel thing the vampires had ever done to him. He wanted to peel his skin from his body, to feel clean, but most of all, Ian wanted to forget.

  “And he isn’t ready to face his guilt with his family. I’m asking you to leave him alone until I say he is ready, Dorian. Go.”

  Ian saw Dorian step toward the door. “I’m so sorry, Ian. I didn’t mean to bring you any pain.” He turned and left.

  Mason bent down by Ian, pulling him from the floor and carrying him over to the bed. He removed the ball gag and tossed it aside.

  “There is a fine line that divides pleasure and pain,” Mason said as he unlocked Ian’s ankle cuffs. “You know what pain is, Ian. Don’t you?”

  “Y–Yes, Sir.” Ian couldn’t seem to get enough oxygen. He couldn’t seem to settle the hard shudder of his pounding heart.

  “And you are learning what pleasure is,” Mason said as he ran his fingers over Ian’s jaw.

  “Yes.”

  Mason reached over and pressed the iPod he had set by the bed earlier. Jazz began to fill the room, making Ian remember the first time they met, how scared he was, and how Mason’s strong presence terrified him, yet comforted him at the same time.

  “I want you to start meditating, Ian.” Mason reached over and placed his fingers on Ian’s eyelids, closing them. “I am a man with immeasurable self-worth. I used drugs, but that is not what defines me. My strength, my character, and what I do with my life from this day forward is what people will judge me by.”

  Ian took in a deep breath, letting the music fill his mind and then flow through him. As he sat there on the bed, Ian opened a small door in his mind.

  The memory was of him at home, before it all began, before his addiction. He used those happy memories of his parents and brother as his focal point as he opened another door.

  This one was the memory where his entire life changed. It was the night he had allowed Calico to woo him. That night Ian had been enthralled, not by the vampire’s
eyes, but his strength. Ian had thought Calico the epitome of what he was looking for.

  And that was why he had let the vampire feed from him.

  Because he had been desperate, looking for something he had been longing for since Ian had recognized his own sexuality.

  The guilt of what he had done tried to take hold, but Ian reached for the feeling of his parents, his brother, how much they had loved him, how much love they had shown him, and wrapped that feeling around him.

  I am a man with immeasurable self-worth. I used drugs, but that is not what defines me. My strength, my character, and what I do with my life from this day forward is what people will judge me by.

  It worked to an extent, but shame was still ever present.

  “It will take time, Ian.”

  Ian remembered that Mason could scent his emotions. His shame must be a heavy fragrance on the air.

  “But you will learn that you are the only judge and jury of your conscience. You are the one who has to forgive yourself.”

  “It’s hard,” Ian admitted without opening his eyes. “If I hadn’t said yes, or if I hadn’t gone to that party…”

  “But you did,” Mason said from close by. “You made a mistake. Now it’s time you forgive yourself.”

  Ian felt the hot tears rolling down his cheeks. He wanted to shout that he could never forgive himself for such a stupid choice, but he could feel Mason’s presence, feel his strength surrounding him. The man had said they had a bond, and it was growing deeper.

  Ian felt it. It was like a warm blanket on a cold winter night, keeping him warm, keeping him safe.

  I am a man of immeasurable worth.

  “Say the words, Ian, but only if you mean them.”

  Ian swallowed past the lump in his throat. It was hard to speak, hard to talk when the lodged tears felt so heavy. “I–I forgive myself.”

  “Do you?”

  Ian felt a piece of himself being put back into the big gaping hole in his heart. He felt as if a part of him was being restored. “Yes.”

  The music continued to flood the room, keeping Ian relaxed as he thought about that crucial night. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, letting the pain and guilt go.

  He wasn’t anywhere near where he needed to be in order to be happy. But letting the shame go of how it all began was a start.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  They were heading out in the morning. Groups of Rebellions had amassed and were hiding out close by in various locations. Rick had delivered the news to Mason.

  First light, they attacked.

  Freedman’s men had shown up, Jordison and Corrigan, but Freedman was still gone. He was still out there somewhere hunting down his friend in hopes of saving his life.

  Mason sat at the table, wondering what tomorrow would bring as he watched Ian sleep. They could very well be heading into a trap where some wouldn’t make it back alive. Mason knew this, but he also held true to what he had said to Rick. There was no way he was sitting by and allowing any changeling to be tortured or experimented on.

  Not when he could do something to stop it. He just wished he knew if they were going into a bloodbath.

  Maybe it was better that he didn’t know.

  Mason gazed at his mate in the dark hours before the battle that was sure to be bloody and leave a lasting scar on many souls.

  His mate had meditated for the rest of the afternoon. Mason had left him alone after talking Ian through the immense guilt he had felt coming from the man in waves of sorrow.

  He wasn’t foolish enough to believe the healing would be done overnight. Ian had a long way to go. Four years of abuse could not be undone in one single session.

  As he sat there, Mason thought about his father, his past. He was never abused, but love wasn’t something he had a lot of experience with.

  His father had been as cold as the arctic air. The man knew nothing of what a child needed, craved. There were some nights Mason had lain in bed, wishing his mother were still alive to hold him, comfort him.

  But now he was a grown man, helping a man who was even more broken than Mason. Never would he tell Ian that there were times he felt just as lost as his mate. Ian needed someone strong, someone to help him heal.

  But who was going to help Mason heal? It was true that Ian gave him something precious, his trust, but Mason still felt—god, why was he even entertaining these thoughts? He shouldn’t pity himself right before a battle. He should be mentally preparing himself for the fight.

  There was only room for one screwed-up individual in this relationship, and it wasn’t going to be Mason. He’d dealt with his problems for too many years to question anything that he did now.

  To hell with it.

  Tomorrow he fought, afterward, if he had survived, he would—Mason ran his hands over his face, frustrated as hell. Here he thought getting away from his father and attending college would make his life easier. But fate had other plans.

  He just wished the bitch would have let him know about them.

  Feeling weary, Mason stood. That was enough thinking for one night. What he needed right now was Ian, his mate.

  Undressing, Mason crawled into bed and pulled the small human into his arms, curling his body around Ian’s, soaking in his warmth. He held tight to the one man who had come to mean so much to him. Mason may have not gone through what Ian had experienced, but on a deeper level, they were kindred souls, both searching for…something.

  He wanted to be loved just as desperately as Ian. Mason wanted to know he belonged just as much as his mate did.

  Ian’s eyes fluttered open, and the dark-blue irises seemed to hold an intelligence that could see right into his very soul.

  “I’m here for you,” Ian softly said.

  Mason felt cut off at the knees. Ian was slowly pulling the bricks down from around his defenses and working his way in. Bending his head, Mason flicked his tongue and tasted his mate just above the ragged pulse in his neck.

  His small fingernails dug into Mason’s chest as Ian tilted his head to the side, giving off a small moan. For changelings, it was the purest sign of trust to expose one’s neck.

  “I love those moans. I love when you let me know what I’m doing to you.” Mason paused and then completely opened his heart to his mate. “But most of all, I love you, Ian.”

  Ian swallowed, chest heaving. “Is this a dream?” he whispered, the fear clear in his small voice.

  “No, Ian. This is very real, and tonight, I’m going to show you just how much I truly do love you.” Mason reached up and ran his hand through Ian’s hair. “Never cut your hair. I love how the long strands feel gliding through my fingers.”

  Mason settled on his back and then pulled Ian over his chest, gliding his hand from Ian’s nape, down the expanse of his back, and then over the sweet curves of his flared bottom.

  Ian’s pupils dilated as he arched his back into Mason’s touch like a lazy cat being petted.

  Mason purred.

  Ian glanced down at him. “Do that again, Sir.”

  The rumble became louder. Ian blew out a shuddering breath. “I’ve never heard anything like that before. Is it because you are a changeling?”

  “It is. My cat is pleased by your approval.”

  Ian’s eyes locked with his, his hands flat against Mason’s chest. “You like my approval?”

  Mason’s fingers began to play at Ian’s cheeks, pulling them apart, and then circling the small hole that was pulsing. “Everyone wants approval, Ian. It’s in our nature to want someone to want us, to be loved and accepted.”

  “Even you, Sir?” Ian asked in surprise.

  “Even me.”

  “But you are this…this man who seems to be in control all the time, like nothing ever bothers you.”

  Mason knew he couldn’t keep up his façade. Ian needed a strong man, but he also needed to see that even the strongest were weak at times. His mate needed to realize that everyone was vulnerable to a point. If he coul
d see this, then maybe it would help in his healing. “I grew up in a house where there was no love. My father was as cold as the winds that blow in deep winter. I crave for someone to love me, to make me feel like I matter.”

  “But you do matter,” Ian said softly, “to me.”

  Mason cupped Ian’s face and brought it down to his, giving Ian a heartfelt kiss. He could feel the possessiveness take hold, his jaguar yowling at the thought of anyone ever trying to take Ian from him. This man was his mate. His. His to have, his to love, his to guide through his nightmares and help him come out on the other side a healed man. Not even Ian’s brother was going to stand between them.

  One lone finger sunk into Ian’s body as Mason continued to stoke the fires between them, kissing Ian deeper, using his tongue to sweep into his mate’s wet, moist mouth. Ian ground his erection against Mason’s stomach, moaning and groaning into Mason’s mouth. He would kill anyone who took those sweet, sweet noises from him.

  They were for him, his ears only, for his very own pleasure.

  Without breaking the kiss, Mason reached over and snagged the lube from the nightstand, dribbling the silken gel over his mate’s entrance. Tossing the bottle aside, Mason slid a second finger in, playing, stretching, and just enjoying the feel of his mate’s body.

  God, Mason wanted to bite down on Ian’s flesh, to strengthen their bond so badly that his teeth actually hurt. He cupped the back of Ian’s head with his free hand, bring the man closer, inhaling the intoxicating scent of wildness in the man.

  The jaguar spread inside of him in a languorous wave of sexual need. Mason’s cock was ramrod hard, ready to take his mate, but he pushed the urges back, taking his time with the man he loved, needed, craved.

  He wanted to touch, to stroke, to let Ian know he was the most cherished man in Mason’s life. His hand smoothed through Ian’s hair, giving a light, playful tug at the strands.

  Another moan.

  As Mason’s fingers played inside Ian, he used his hand to press Ian’s groin closer, hitching his hips at the same time, enjoying the pleasure-filled friction. He wanted to fuck, to roll his mate and pound into his giving body, to find release.