by Marcy Jacks
That was going to have to wait.
“Well, I’m glad you approve because I sent Zed and a few others to retrieve him. The lizard should be in the arena by now.”
“He is?” Sorin tensed then pushed himself to his feet when his father did.
Varrick nodded. “Indeed. I want to see what he can do. You can come with me, of course. When the creature sees what he’s fighting for, it might just put a bit more pep into him.”
Sorin watched his father walk to the doors, a feeling of stupidity gripping him before he was able to follow. “You’re not thinking of giving me to the creature, are you?”
Did he sound hopeful when he asked that question? He hoped not, but at the same time, he could hardly stop himself from feeling this intense sense of want.
“Of course not, don’t be crude.” Varrick snorted. “I know you went through an ordeal, but surely you can handle being looked at by the creature. I know you’ve gone to see him a few times to give him a good lashing, so seeing him in the arena should be good for you.”
“Yes, Father.” Sorin flexed his fingers, wanting to clench them into fists, but he couldn’t. Of course he couldn’t.
Van must have told Varrick about the time Sorin had gone to see Lucian and even added on a few extra visits just to pad the story out.
Keeping such a thing from his father was already like walking on broken shards of glass. Dangerous, and no matter how careful he was, something would snap, something would cut, and something would bleed.
With Van adding to the trouble, it sure did make things a lot more difficult.
He followed his father out of the sitting room and down the open hallways.
The home was dark because of course it was. Even after being here for a little over a week, Sorin still had yet to get used to the darkness again.
When Seth had taken over the home where Sorin grew up, he’d removed all the windows that were designed to tint automatically during the daylight.
The only thing he’d kept was the curtains.
Even with many of them shut, light still made it through the windows, brightening the walls and making the home look almost cheery.
The smiling omegas added to the effect.
In fact, the only room in the house that still had a tinted window was the one Sorin shared with Lucian.
Where they made love during the day and night. Where Sorin learned to change his inner clock around so he slept for most of the night and stayed awake for a good portion of the day.
It allowed him and Lucian to stay on each other’s schedules and function.
Also, whenever Lucian kept Sorin awake during the day with his kisses and his touch, leisurely thrusting inside him as they lazily fucked…
He had to stop thinking about that. The point was that the house had seemed more like a home. The people there loved each other, and the colors were bright and wonderful. Welcoming.
Here, it was as though Sorin were back in his home before the dragons had come and taken it over.
The halls were dark, all the windows tinted, the omegas quickly and quietly getting their chores done, keeping their heads down, trembling slightly as Varrick and Sorin passed them by.
Sorin didn’t know these slaves. He hadn’t grown up in this house, and he hated that he couldn’t do anything for them. He hated that, because they didn’t know him, he couldn’t ask for their help either.
They would think anything he asked them to do would be a trick, some sort of evil prank designed to weed out the traitors.
He was as alone in this house as they were, but he reminded himself that at least he wasn’t being worked to the bones of his fingers or starved. His prison was different from theirs, and still the better option if he was honest.
Maybe he could convince Seth to try to take this house and these omegas for himself when he finally came to rescue Lucian.
God, this place was depressing.
The arena was in a room beneath the pool outside. Sorin was shocked to see it. There had been no space like this in the home where he’d been born and raised. He’d heard of such a thing, and when he’d been young, his father had promised him he would bring Sorin to see it.
Sorin had grown up soft, however, so Varrick had given up on the idea. Now that Sorin was here, he was horrified.
He thought he’d stepped into a space for masochists. There were literally chains all over the walls and floors.
Strange devices that had spikes on them were scattered around the arena. They looked as if they could spin. From the ceiling were more chains, but at the end of them were metal rods. Sorin didn’t know what those were for.
His father led him to the area where there were seats. It sat at least ten feet above the arena itself.
The seating could hold at least fifty people, possibly more. It occurred to Sorin right then and there that his father might have had guests here. He may have forced dragons or alpha wolves to fight each other for the pleasure of his guests.
Sorin shivered.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?”
“It is,” Sorin lied.
His father took a seat. Sorin sat next to him.
He continued to glance around, trying to memorize everything about the open space, the items in it, and what everything could be for.
Something else occurred to him, and he briefly glanced at his father’s proud, smiling face before looking away again.
When had it happened? When had Sorin waken up and realized that his father was not the proud, cold businessman he used to think of him as but rather a ruthless, cold-blooded killer?
Sorin had loved his father, even though the man had been cold, pawning Sorin off on his nannies for proper raising and teaching.
The one nanny who lasted the longest was dead now. Sorin had loved her like a mother, and he could honestly say that, despite everything, he’d never loved his father the way he had loved his nanny.
Like a child would love a parent.
He’d respected his father, was in awe of him. Whenever the servants said his father was important and busy, that he did good work, Sorin had an idea in his mind of what it could possibly be.
He couldn’t say when he’d seen the truth for what it was, but it had happened.
Sorin had thought he’d known then. He’d thought he’d known his father for how bad he could be. Now that he could see this room, this place, Sorin realized he had actually still been somewhat innocent when it came to the evil his father was capable of.
This went well and beyond everything Sorin had expected.
“Ah, here’s our guest of honor now.”
Sorin blinked, snapping himself out of his daze as, from a completely different set of doors than the ones Sorin and his father had entered through, Lucian was led onto the arena floor by a circle of men.
Each held a pole in their hands, one that appeared to be chained to Lucian’s neck, and with his arms tightly held behind his back, Sorin knew they were attached also.
Sorin’s heart bled to see his mate in such a state. Lucian was too good, too proud, too larger than life to be brought down so low.
He didn’t spare the man an inch, however. He didn’t dare let himself look upon him with pity.
Sorin thought of someone else. He imagined it was Van standing down there, in chains, looking up at Sorin with annoyance, and with that thought in his head, it was so much easier to stare down at his mate with distaste.
Lucian glared back at him, nearly breaking the spell Sorin had created for himself.
Varrick didn’t seem to notice. He clapped his hands together. “Very well! Unchain him. I want to see what he’s capable of!”
“Is he going against all those men down there with him?” God, Sorin hoped not. Lucian wouldn’t be able to handle it. Not in his state.
“Of course not. I prefer one-to-one fights. Makes things fair.”
His father said it as if he knew anything about being fair, but Sorin was grateful for it regardless.
“We
even have a volunteer.”
“Volunteer?” Sorin asked, confused and even a little scared.
The back door opened again and Van walked onto the arena floor.
Walked. He positively strutted onto the arena floor, shirtless, feet bare, and he grinned at Lucian and cracked his knuckles, and Sorin knew who his mate’s opponent would be.
Chapter Four
When Lucian caught sight of Van walking toward him, a smile on his face as he popped his knuckles, the first thought through his head was how great it was going to be to have someone to beat the living piss out of when the guards released him of his chains and stood back.
It would at least help him to get over this rage that seemed to take over. He could release the build-up of steam within himself.
The second thought that went through his head was, what in the hell was Van doing here? Because the other dragon sure as shit didn’t look like a prisoner.
Varrick stood up, announced they were to fight to test out Lucian’s strength and to determine if Lucian was worthy of being brought under Varrick’s employ.
Lucian knew it would be more like slavery. He looked to Sorin, searching for any hint his mate had anything to do with this. The man just looked bored as he rested his cheek on his fist, staring down at Lucian as if this entire thing was beneath him.
Lucian growled. A bell rang somewhere, and he turned to face his opponent.
Van’s fist flew out. Lucian deftly dodged out of the way, embarrassing the man as always with his superior skills and speed.
That was how he thought of it in his head. He wanted it to be like that. That was how it should have been.
But that wasn’t reality. Instead, Lucian got his jaw struck so hard that his teeth clacked hard, and he saw white as his feet left the floor and he fell down heavily onto the hard concrete floor.
Lucian exhaled a heavy gasp. All the air left his lungs in that moment, and he honestly couldn’t breathe.
It didn’t last long before Van was on top of him. He took a fistful of Lucian’s hair in his hand, forcing Lucian up to his feet unless Lucian wanted to become prematurely bald. He followed the man.
“Not so tough now, are you?” Van whispered into his ear, his fist launching hard into Lucian’s gut.
Whatever last particles of oxygen were in his lungs fled.
Lucian clutched his gut and fell to his knees.
Even with the pain and the difficulty breathing, it was embarrassing. God, how much strength had he lost that Van could beat the hell out of him like this?
“I’ll give him a minute to recover,” Van said, stepping back.
Lucian didn’t need to look up at the man to know there was a smile on his face as he said those words.
“You fight as though you have something to prove against this dragon,” Varrick asked.
“Yeah, a bit of a score to settle, but nothing that will distract from your plans for him.”
Lucian coughed, pushing himself to his knees, balancing himself with his palm down on the floor. Their plans for him? Right, they wanted him to work for Varrick.
In exchange for what?
He looked back up at Varrick and then Sorin. He stared hard at the man. Sorin looked back at him as if they’d never before met. As if Lucian hadn’t kissed him many times before, made him moan Lucian’s name, made him beg for Lucian’s cock inside him.
That person was entirely different from the one sitting up there next to Varrick. Lucian didn’t know who that was, but it wasn’t his mate.
“You…you want me to fight for you in exchange for Sorin?”
“No talking!” Van’s foot caught Lucian in the face. He fell back hard. Oh God! That really fucking hurt. “You don’t speak when you’re not spoken to.”
“Now, now, it’s fair enough,” Varrick said. “Not that it matters. You don’t exactly show the strength my son said you had.”
He sounded disappointed.
“But I do like that you keep trying to get to your feet.”
Lucian stopped briefly, looked up at both vampires, and then groaned as he pushed himself to stand. “You like that, do you?”
“I do,” Varrick said. “Now, as shameful as it is, you did force a mating onto my son, so now I need you alive. Work for me, and occasionally you can see Sorin.”
“Will that be whenever he wants to come at me with a whip?” Lucian glared at his mate.
The fact that Sorin continued to stare at him as if he didn’t care about this entire thing, as if he was completely removed from it, enraged him.
If he had a rock, he might have thrown it at his mate just to get some kind of reaction out of him. Anything other than those dead eyes.
“Possibly. If that’s what he wants,” Varrick said. “That’s what you need, isn’t it? Doesn’t his presence alone give you strength to fight?”
It did, sort of. It made him not want to stay down. It made Lucian want to prove he was still a capable warrior, that he was worthy of protecting his mate and that nothing this bastard, or anyone else, said or did would be enough to keep him down.
The dragon inside him wanted to prove to Sorin that he still loved him, even if he was beginning to lose faith in him.
“Go on, answer him,” Van said, circling, enjoying this too damned much for Lucian to be comfortable with. “Tell your mate how much you’re going to fight for him. I’m sure he wants to hear it.”
The mocking little shit.
“I’d rather beat the fuck out of you again. That was pretty fun, considering you ripped Sorin’s fangs out with a dirty pair of pliers.”
Van’s eyes widened in a horrified panic.
“He did what?” Varrick straightened in his chair, glaring down at both of them, but particularly Van.
And Lucian smiled. Right, he had something on Van, too.
“I…” Van pointed at Lucian, but what he was about to say was cut off by Sorin.
“The prisoner is lying, Father. Don’t worry.”
“Lying?” Varrick narrowed his eyes.
Lucian couldn’t believe it. He stared at Sorin as though the man was from another planet. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Sorin couldn’t be defending Van. Sorin hated Van.
Again with those dead eyes. Sorin turned to his father. “It was another dragon in the house that did it. Don’t let the prisoner distract you.”
“Let me see this instant!”
Sorin pulled back the corner of his lip so Varrick could see his teeth. Sorin’s fangs had grown back, but they would still be smaller than they should have been.
Varrick turned positively red in the face. “Those dirty, filthy—”
“I’m fine, Father,” Sorin said, and he actually smiled for the man before turning his attention back to Lucian and Van. He had that same heartless glare on his face when he stared at Lucian. “They can’t hurt me anymore.”
That cracking Lucian felt in his chest when Sorin had whipped him the first time…it returned with a vengeance.
Sorin was defending Van. Why in the holy fuck was he doing that? Was Van really on their side now? Was all of this so…
Was Lucian so blind that he couldn’t tell Sorin had been faking it? The mating was real, but his affections could still be faked.
Sorin had done that to keep himself safe, Lucian could understand that, but did he have no feelings for Lucian at all?
Oh God, this was…this wasn’t happening. Lucian couldn’t have been so wrong.
But what if he was?
The doubt was there. It took only that small crack in his resolve, and it was enough to make him look differently at his mate.
He didn’t like that. He didn’t want to look at Sorin and wonder if the man who had smiled at him beneath the sheets of their bed had been someone else that whole time.
He tried to banish it, tried to reason it out, but it was there. He loved the man, but now he wasn’t entirely sure Sorin loved him back.
Van took advantage of Lucian’s stu
por, throwing out another punch, catching him like a snake in the grass with a bullshit move like that.
He didn’t go down hard like he had the last time. Lucian stayed on his feet. Something within him snapped, and a clarity the likes of which he hadn’t experienced in years came over him, and it hit him hard.
He roared as he flew at Van, slashing his claws down the man’s chest before punching him hard in the face.
It felt good, but not nearly good enough to make this aching pain within him vanish.
More. He needed so much more.
Van hit him again, and it hurt, but the pain was good. Lucian used it to make the anger spike. He used it because feeling the pain on his face was better than the pain in his chest as he and Van beat the absolute shit out of each other.
* * * *
“They certainly do know how to fight,” Varrick said, rubbing his jaw. “This isn’t even with proper training. This is just a brawl.”
Sorin looked at his father as the man leaned back in his chair. Varrick’s mouth twisted, as though he was displeased.
“I should have been studying this behavior from the start. I might have been able to better handle an attack from the lizards had I known about this.”
Sorin nodded, turning his attention back to the fight. He didn’t want to watch too much, to show too deep an interest as Van and Lucian slammed their fists into each other.
But he couldn’t bring himself to entirely ignore what was happening either.
His mate should have been able to take Van out with little to no problem, but because of how he’d been treated, and starved, it was clear Van had something of an advantage.
Despite that, the man was definitely struggling to keep his distance from Lucian. He wasn’t getting the beating that Lucian had told Sorin about the first time Lucian took his revenge on the man, but if Sorin had been a better man, Lucian would have been the one he’d put his money on.
He would have always bet on him.
“Does the fight interest you?”
“It does.” Sorin could be honest with this. “Lucian is a powerful dragon. Had he not been in the dungeon for so long, he might have beaten Van already.”