Seven Brothers for McBride 3
Ollie Morgan
Nothing tastes as sweet as forbidden fruit…
As McBride struggles to hold his world together and makes sacrifices that block him from any chance of happiness with the eldest Morgan brother, he’s still determined to buy all his men mates. He’s stunned when Ollie Morgan rejects his thrall, insisting that he wishes to be alone. Determined to get to the truth, McBride is furious when he finds out there is an interloper on his land.
Jonas Davenport is a landed gentryman who has made tremendous sacrifices to be with Ollie, but just because he’s given away all his wealth doesn’t make their relationship anything but forbidden.
Their love is stronger than any law, but will the two men ever find a way to be together?
Genre: Alternative (M/M or F/F), Futuristic, Paranormal
Length: 35,370 words
OLLIE MORGAN
Seven Brothers for McBride 3
Anitra Lynn McLeod
EVERLASTING CLASSIC
MANLOVE
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK
IMPRINT: Everlasting Classic ManLove
OLLIE MORGAN
Copyright © 2013 by Anitra Lynn McLeod
E-book ISBN: 978-1-62242-093-3
First E-book Publication: January 2013
Cover design by Les Byerley
All art and logo copyright © 2013 by Siren Publishing, Inc.
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DEDICATION
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OLLIE MORGAN
Seven Brothers for McBride 3
ANITRA LYNN MCLEOD
Copyright © 2013
Chapter 1
McBride was beyond pleased with his latest thrall. After the issue with the one he’d purchased yesterday, the merchant was more than willing to give McBride a deal he simply couldn’t refuse. He’d gotten a pink-collared thrall for a yellow-collar price. The young man sat in front of McBride with his shoulders relaxed, his black hair gleaming, and his excited attention darting all around the prairie. There wasn’t much to look at out here on the outskirts of Woven Spire, but he managed to find amazement in the smallest detail. He asked a dozen questions that McBride tried to keep up with, but he was barely answering one before Easton was on to the next. Given his bubbly nature, he thought he would be a perfect companion for Ollie.
Ollie Morgan was the third-youngest Morgan brother. He’d been decanted just minutes after his twin, Gannon, but the two couldn’t be more different. Their faces and bodies were exactly alike, but everything else—their hair, manners, overall personalities—were very different. Ollie was fastidious in his person and his home where Gannon was a total slob. Ollie was punctual and detail oriented where Gannon was more casual. Although, McBride was happy to note that Gannon’s new thrall had cleaned up his house and him. He only hoped the change wasn’t short lived.
Ollie was the only one of the Morgan brothers who actually cooked his own food rather than use the cookbot provided for in his little mechanical house. McBride had shared a meal with him last night that he wanted to have for lunch today, but he wasn’t quite sure how to ask. Just because he owned Ollie didn’t mean he had the right to commandeer his food. Which reminded McBride that he was going to ask Ollie if he’d like to leave the field behind and work in the big house as McBride’s cook. It seemed a shame to let his talent with food go to waste. With the profits off the last sale of fibers, McBride could afford to hire him just to cook.
Since it was midday, McBride expected to see all hands out planting tallos, but a quick head count revealed someone was missing. At this distance, McBride couldn’t tell who was absent since most of the brothers looked alike. He stopped looking altogether when his hungry gaze landed on Caleb, who always stood out since he was the biggest. All he wore was a pair of shorts that showed off his massive body with perfection. As McBride came down the long drive, he took the left fork toward the cul-de-sac where the seven brothers had their homes arranged in a semicircle around the street.
His gaze strayed to the stocks in the center of the road. Should one of his slammers defy him, McBride had the right to toss him into the stocks and brutally rape him. Thankfully, McBride had never had to punish any of the brothers that way. The only rebellious one was the eldest, but McBride had found less harsh ways to keep Caleb’s fury in check. However, in taking a lighter hand with Caleb, McBride found himself mired in an inappropriate relationship that was also illegal. Technically, he hadn’t crossed the line, not fully, but he’d been skirting the edge of the regulations since the day he’d inherited the seven men.
By law, McBride could use his slammers for blood and labor. He had no right to use them for sex or anything above and beyond a normal day’s work. Slammers were not slaves. McBride owned them, but slammers had rights. They could earn money, they could buy themselves luxuries, and they could refuse to do something that was dangerous, illegal, or unethical. In addition to those rights, McBride had
granted them others, such as more privacy and a greater discretion in what they did in their off hours, of which they had plenty. McBride didn’t believe in working them beyond a normal day. That was a quick ticket to unhealthy and unhappy slammers. McBride didn’t indulge them to win their favor, but to keep them healthy, happy, and far more acquiescent to his needs. All the Morgan brothers willingly bared their necks for him when he was hungry for blood. All but the eldest. Caleb fought and groused and just generally made the simple procedure unbelievably complex when it didn’t need to be. Somehow, that had translated into McBride developing a curious kind of longing for him. There was something about Caleb’s refusal to submit that intrigued the hell out of McBride. He’d sworn off him more times than he could count yet always found an excuse to go back. It was madness. McBride knew he had to rein it in.
Since his attempts to curb his behavior had failed so dismally, McBride realized he had to take drastic action. If he didn’t, he would end up going too far with Caleb. Breaking the law was one thing, but ruining an innocent man’s life was another. McBride’s greatest fear was that his indiscretion could get Caleb taken away, or worse, killed. That was a burden his conscience simply didn’t need.
Now that he was nearer to where the field was being planted, McBride realized Ollie was the missing brother. Unlike his twin, Gannon, Ollie always wore a hat. Since McBride didn’t see a single hat on any of the heads, he knew Ollie wasn’t in the field. Had he stayed in today waiting for his thrall? McBride had been getting the brothers mates as quickly as he could. He’d decided to go from youngest to oldest, so Ollie was next in line. But Ollie taking an entire day off didn’t sound like Ollie at all. He loved to work so that he could buy interesting foodstuff when his turn to go into town came. Although, until McBride knew the details about the cause of a violent attack, he wasn’t letting anyone go into town, not even himself. Breaking that news to Ollie was going to be unpleasant to say the least.
Frowning, McBride climbed down off his six-legged dressiter then offered out a hand to Easton.
“Where is my mate?” Easton’s eyes were bright, his expectations high.
“I think he’s in his house.” McBride hoped Ollie wasn’t ill. With the situation at the Larsden place still hanging over him, McBride was overly anxious about any illness plaguing his slammers or the officers who worked for him. Since those in authority were the highest on the blood-drinking chain, any blood-borne pathogen could decimate the structure of society. Centuries had passed since the plague that had claimed all the women and horses, but those who’d emerged on the other side of the storm were terrified of a repeat event.
Easton dutifully followed behind McBride as he walked up to Ollie’s house. He noted that all the drapes were closed, and that wasn’t like Ollie at all. In fact, McBride couldn’t remember a time when Ollie had his drapes shut. He loved the light that spilled in through the windows. Even in the summer, when they days were long, Ollie loved to have the light wake him rather than his alarm clock. Ollie was a man who woke with a smile and practically flung open his door to greet the day. Melding him and Easton should be easy enough that McBride could turn his attention to other matters today. Given how behind he was with his personal and professional issues, having a day to himself would be a blessing.
Even though McBride had the right to simply stride into his slammers’ homes, he didn’t. He gave them their space and a certain measure of privacy. He found treating them with all due consideration made them more willing to work diligently and give up their necks when his blood hunger called.
McBride knocked on Ollie’s door but got no response. “Ollie? It’s McBride. I have a surprise for you.” He was on the verge of opening the door when Ollie cracked it a few inches. “Good morning, sleepy.”
“Morning.” Ollie blinked warily up at McBride.
“Did you oversleep?” That wasn’t like him, but stranger things had happened.
“Yes. Sorry.” Ollie seemed utterly distracted.
“I’ve brought you a mate.” McBride scooped his arm around Easton and pulled him forward. He was expecting anything but Ollie’s reaction.
Barely had Ollie looked at Easton before he blurted, “I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want a thrall.”
McBride felt Easton recoil at the cold way he’d been rejected. With two sentences, Ollie managed to pop all the bubbly right out of Easton’s personality. And then, to add insult to injury, Ollie tried to close the door in their faces. One big hand on the edge of the door stopped that from happening.
“What the hell has gotten into you?” McBride pushed on the door while he took his arm off Easton’s shoulder. He was expecting something that would explain why Ollie was rude and had pulled down all his shades, but his living room looked exactly as it had last night. Turning to Easton, who was standing in stunned shock on the porch, McBride said, “Please wait here.”
Easton nodded and turned away, but it was obvious he’d been deeply hurt by Ollie’s rejection. Who wouldn’t be? After the talk they’d had last night, McBride assumed that Ollie would be jumping up and down to get a mate. He’d certainly seemed lonely and welcomed a guest to share the elaborate meal he’d created. And then a new idea struck. McBride closed the door.
Lowering his voice, McBride assured Ollie that there was nothing wrong with him. His previous owner, a landed gentryman named Jonas Davenport, had used Ollie in inappropriate ways. Jonas had come to the tallos farm to become the companion of McBride’s father, and Jonas had brought the seven Morgan brothers as his slammers, but McBride had found out that Jonas had multiple quirks that made him do all kinds of terribly unacceptable things. Jonas had used Ollie for blood and sex, but Jonas had also bought a thrall for him and McBride’s father to use for the same purpose. Every time he thought of it, McBride shivered. He’d never known his father, but when he’d passed unexpectedly, McBride had inherited his holdings, including the Morgan brothers. To this day, McBride still didn’t know why Jonas didn’t take the brothers with him when he left the farm. Maybe he was trying desperately to get away from his illegal activities. As much as McBride hated to admit the truth, he could understand that. He was on the verge of doing something desperate to break his fascination with Caleb.
“I really am fine on my own.” But Ollie’s darting gaze indicated he was anything but okay.
“You’re not well enough to work, but you’re claiming that you’re fine?” McBride looked around at all the rooms he could see, which was most of the kitchen, the entire living room, and part of the hall that went back toward the bathroom and bedroom. He didn’t see anything out of order. But when his eyes adjusted and he looked more closely at Ollie, McBride realized that Ollie was stark naked. He lowered his head and placed his hands over his genitals, but that wasn’t doing much to hide his nudity. If anything, the way he was standing only drew more attention to the fact he was naked and clearly ashamed at having been caught that way.
“I want to know what’s going on.” McBride double-checked that the door was closed firmly behind him. There was only one way into and out of each of the houses. The windows opened, but the screens were hardwired into the house so that vermin couldn’t get in by chewing the wires. One bite and they’d be zapped hard enough that they wouldn’t try a second time.
“Nothing is going on. I just overslept, and now I’m trying to wake up and get out to work.” Ollie tried to look annoyed at McBride for interrupting him, but he failed miserably. If anything, Ollie looked guilty and ashamed. But of what? It wasn’t his nudity, because McBride had witnessed him masturbating many times while he drank his blood. That was far more intimate than just seeing him in the altogether.
“I’m not moving until I get an explanation.” When Ollie opened his mouth, McBride cut him off. “One that I can believe.”
Ollie’s guilty gaze darted down the hall toward his bedroom. “I don’t feel well.”
That caused McBride to take a step back. Now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness in
the house, he realized that Ollie was extremely pale. Into McBride’s mind came an image of the bloodbath at the Larsden place. Larsden was a landed gentryman just like McBride. Over the course of several days, Larsden drank more and more from his slammers, but he couldn’t seem to be satisfied by the nourishment. In a rage, he’d ripped his slammers apart with his bare hands then ended up dead in the pools of their blood. The general consensus so far was that he’d suffered an aneurism that had finally put him out of his misery.
As the sheriff of Woven Spire County, McBride oversaw the investigation, but they still had no idea what had caused Larsden’s illness. McBride’s greatest fear was that a new blood-borne pathogen was to blame. Since a virus had caused the world to drastically alter, those who had survived lived in terror of a similar event happening again. To waylay a panic, McBride was keeping a lid on the investigation. He didn’t want anyone jumping to conclusions. Proof was what they needed, and it was what they would wait for no matter how difficult waiting was.
Ollie’s appearance prompted McBride to wonder if he’d simply drunk too much from him last night. At the time, McBride had been famished for both food and blood, and Ollie offered up both. Perhaps his hunger had made him—A chill pushed McBride to retreat another step even though there would be no running if he had indeed picked up whatever had ailed Larsden. McBride took stock of himself, trying to determine if he were hungry for blood in a normal, healthy way, or if he was becoming as insatiable as Larsden had been. He and all his officers had followed procedure when they were dealing with the blood at the crime scene, but that didn’t preclude him from catching the illness some other way. Since Larsden’s slammers were all dead, they were unable to ask them who showed signs of the illness first. The only reason they had a heads-up about Larsden’s frantic bloodlust was from the records in his mechanical house. Despite the fact he was a landed gentryman, Larsden’s mechanical house still recorded all the comings and goings. It was his crimetech, Quintus, who realized how many times the slammers had entered, but he’d also looked at the marks on their necks. Ragged, open wounds were on each neck that was found intact, which meant Larsden was drinking so much at such frequency the slammers were unable to heal.
Ollie Morgan [Seven Brothers for McBride 3] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) Page 1