A feeling of darkness entered him, and his senses went on full alert. His uncle, Cullum, entered the chamber. Lucien’s fangs descended and his claws ripped through his nail beds. What the fuck did he want?
His uncle’s smug face had pure, red-hot anger surging through him. Inside his mind and body, his demon was coming to the surface and pushing his wolf aside. For a moment, his eyes went black and his massive horns ram through his head. Lucien’s wings sprouted out of his back, the tips breaking part of the ceiling. His demon was bigger and more massive than any werewolf. No one could stop him when he was in this form.
“I see your mongrel is off his leash, Sargon. I suggest you do something about it,” Cullum huffed out, expecting Sargon to obey.
“I suggest you mind your tone, werewolf. I am not someone you can just order around, and you certainly do not tell me how to handle my property,” Sargon retorted, lifting his dark eyebrow in defiance.
Cullum shrugged and fixed his tie, showing no fear of Sargon. For some reason, Sumuel let Cullum get away with so much. Werewolves were not above vampires by any means. The law was tailored for the vampires, so ancient werewolves had as many rights as young vampires, which meant few.
Lucien wondered why Cullum was here, especially on the eve of him claiming his mate? He swore to whatever unholy god there was if Cullum fucked this up for him, he was going to rip him apart, and anyone else who tried to stop him.
“Why are you here?” Lucien thundered out, his demon voice gravelly and hoarse.
“I don’t answer to tainted animals,” Cullum sneered.
“Cullum, I suggest you tone down your disrespect. If you are here to put in a complaint, I suggest you do it now before I let Lucien tear you apart.”
A fake smile appeared on Cullum’s refined face, making him appear all too vain in his three-button suit and sleek hairdo. Lucien’s spiked tail swished back and forth, clearly displaying his agitation. He could just stab Cullum with it and then tear him in half. This year, his demon powers had grown in many ways, and he was ready to show his uncle what revenge felt like. The sad part to all of this was that he and Cullum looked so much alike. His last living relative and they hated each other.
“Get on with it, Cullum. You are wearing my patience,” Sargon repeated.
“I will come out with it, then. Last year, three of my people went missing, and I am seeking retribution. We found their body parts close to Lucien’s filthy MMA sporting event. They were attacked. The wounds seem to be werewolf related, and the attack was unprovoked. I intend to collect some sort of retribution.”
Sargon’s shoulders tensed and he coldly stated, “Tread carefully here, Cullum. Who are you accusing of such violence? Let me remind you of your place— if you are accusing Lucien or his clan, you would be voicing your complaint against me. You know vampire law. If you fail to provide solid proof, I will gladly sentence you to death. So again, I warn you, tread carefully.”
Lucien had to give it to Sargon; he was a fearful sight when angered. The room seemed to have dropped several degrees and even he shivered.
Cullum’s face moved in an animated way as he took in Sargon’s deadly threat. He was, no doubt, in a tough position. If he didn’t provide concrete proof, Sargon would not hesitate in ripping Cullum’s head right off his shoulders.
Lucien didn’t trust his uncle. He was too spineless to face both of them, but he was underhanded and conniving. Lucien’s heart thundered in his chest. The man had something or else he would not risk his oh-too-pretty head.
A massive grin spread over Cullum’s face, far-reaching and open, gleaming white teeth sparkled. His dark eyes illuminated in the chambers. The man was vibrating with anticipatory glee.
Lucien knew Cullum had something substantial; he was here to file a complaint against Lucien and either have him killed or punished. His motives clear to anyone in the chambers.
“Of course, Lord Sargon, I would never dare approach without any proof. As you know, I own a DNA23— quite lucrative. We took some samples at the crime scene and ran them in our lab. Of course, no humans were involved in the testing, and the DNA that came up was quite interesting. It was a unique mixture of wolf and demon, or should I say, hybrid. I only know of one filthy beast that has DNA like that— your Lucien.”
Lucien didn’t hesitate as he attacked his uncle, surprising Cullum as he quickly tried to change into his alpha form. Lucien knew Cullum was no match for his incubus form as he rammed his heavy horns into the big alpha’s chest, knocking him down to the floor. His long claws dug into Cullum’s stomach, ready to eviscerate him. His thick tail wrapped around Cullum’s neck squeezing and depriving the big male of oxygen.
Cullum struggled to breathe or move. In his demon form, Lucien stood close to nine feet tall and outweighed his uncle by several hundred pounds. His hands and feet were clawed. Everything about him was built to destroy, and looking into his uncle’s glowing orange eyes, he could see true fear there. Bastard!
A reverberating voice boomed through the chamber. “You will not disrespect my home.”
Lucien knew that voice, it was Sumuel. Fuck!
One more squeeze. All I need is to tighten just a little bit more, and I will snap his head off. Lucien felt an icy hand on his shoulder. His fur stood on its ends, and he quickly turned to bite at whoever dared touch him.
At first, his vision couldn’t adjust to the being he was looking at. He tasted old metallic, powerful blood. Bright red eyes stared back him. There seemed to be a lift of lips like a smile on the refined features of this creature. Sumuel, his long, blond hair was loose, and he was wearing some sort of tight leather bodice and black leather pants. Lucien was struck at how young the ancient vampire looked, no more than 21 in human years, but those eyes told a different story.
Lucien was not letting go of Sumuel’s hand, his demon did not want to submit to a lowly vampire, and it was a getting angrier. He knew he had to let go. He knew vampire law. Soon, his mouth seemed to be getting colder, the rich, warm blood he been tasting felt like ice, his teeth were freezing over. He had to let go or Sumuel was going to freeze him solid.
Snarling, Sargon yelled, “Let go of him, Lucien! You need to let go of him.” Lucien didn’t recognize Sargon’s voice— his master voice sounded ragged and pitched, concerned for his safety.
Lucien looked again at Sumuel. He bit a little harder before letting go, cracking some of the ice that had formed inside his mouth. His thick tail uncurled around his uncle’s neck, who had turned back to human as he lay unconscious on the granite floor.
Sumuel drew his hand back. It was no longer bleeding. His eyes were back to their normal color of honey and dark green. The vampire’s face was unreadable as he adjusted his clothing.
Lucien struggled to adjust back to his normal self. His demon was still angry and wanted to challenge Sumuel. As soon as he reverted back, he quickly kneeled before Sumuel. He could feel Sargon kneeling next to him.
“What is all this noise, Sargon?”
“My lord, Cullum was insinuating that Lucien had killed three of his associates,” Sargon responded.
Lucien kept his eyes downcast while looking over at his unconscious uncle. Cullum had not stirred awake yet. He wished he had held on a little longer.
“So, you could not control the situation, Sargon? Your pet, here, attacked one of my subjects in my own home before any due punishment; Is this what you are telling me, Sargon?”
Hearing Sumuel explain it that way didn’t sound so good for Sargon or him. Sumuel never punished Lucien at all, never asked him for anything, nor did he ever speak to him. Maybe tonight that would change since he did bite Sumuel.
“Forgive me, my Lord. You are correct that I didn’t control Lucien better. I will take care of that matter tonight,” Sargon assured him.
A cold nudge hit his mind; he knew it was Sargon. In front of Sumuel, Sargon was impassive, but Lucien knew that his master was enraged with him. Not only had he attacked Cullum, but he had also
bitten Sumuel. Sumuel stopped in front of him. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but then the vampire went back to Sargon.
In a monotone voice, Sumuel ordered Sargon, “Tell your pet to lift up his head, and you too.”
Sargon ordered, “Servant, lift your head.”
He hated being talked about like he wasn’t a sentient being. Lucien lifted his head and looked at Sumuel. The ancient vamp was caressing Sargon’s face. Sumuel’s long, blond hair cascaded down over Sargon’s massive shoulders. It always struck him odd how his master, a big hulk of a man, bowed down to such a lithe creature like Sumuel.
“Yes, your pet should be punished, but it is not the dog’s fault if it has not been trained properly by its owner. Who do you think is at fault when an unruly animal cannot be controlled by his master? Do you not think it’s the owner who should bear the fault? The master who can no longer control his property? Is that you, Sargon? Are you an unworthy master who can no longer control its property?”
Lucien wasn’t sure if he should answer, the questions seemed rhetorical. Sumuel’s long slender fingers curled tightly into Sargon’s black hair, pulling him forward as Sumuel’s hot breath scraped along Sargon’s outstretched neck.
The smaller vamp’s fangs extended down, and even Lucien was eyeing his master’s throat. He rarely got to see Sargon on his knees or submitting, and it always turned him on.
Jaw set, Sumuel spoke again as he scraped a thick fang along Sargon’s carotid artery. “Yes, Sargon, you are its master, and you shall pay for his indiscretions and disobedience. I will show you how displeased I am with you, and how to properly punish those that fail you. I will listen to Cullum, but for now, tell your mutt to take Cullum outside and to leave far away. You will make sure to correct its behavior. This is a night, Sargon, you will not forget.”
A muscle in Sargon’s jaw twitched as he gritted out, “Take your uncle outside and leave him there. You are not to harm him; I will speak to you later. Go now.”
Needing no more, Lucien got up and threw his naked uncle over his shoulder. Part of him felt guilty leaving Sargon alone to face whatever penance Sumuel had in store for him. He couldn’t think too hard about what was in store for him. But first things first, dump the trash outside and go claim his Gabriel.
Chapter Three
Gabriel
TWO HOURS LATER, GABRIEL looked around the Eagle Brand Casino thinking it strange that it was so quiet for a Wednesday night. Good, he thought, no one to bother him. His wrists were hurt as he had struggled mightily to free himself earlier. The red, angry marks were hard to cover up, even as he pulled his sleeves down.
After she had fucked herself, she rewarded him with a big sloppy kiss. He remembered how she had inserted her moist tongue into his mouth, tasting of menthol, and then she marked him with a hickey right on his shoulder blade. After that, she passed out on top of him.
He had to wait another hour to finally be released. For a moment, it looked like she was going to fuck him again until her phone rang and she released one of his cuffs. Taking the keys, he unlocked the other cuff and quickly put on his clothes. Laughing, she got off the bed, winked at him, and threw him his phone; she had put her number in it.
Fuck that. There was no way he was calling her, and he didn’t even bother with a shower. He wished he had now because he reeked of her body juices and the sickening smell of menthol. He needed to find some mouthwash. His cock was hard, achy, and sore.
He walked toward the far end of the massive wooden bar and plopped down on an empty seat. The rickety wooden stool creaked, protesting Gabriel’s bulk. He desperately needed to quench his nerves with some double shots of whiskey.
Gabriel nodded at the bartender. “Double Chivas.” The bartender quickly grabbed a heavy glass tumbler and poured out the amber-colored liquid, flashing him a cheeky grin as he pushed the glass toward Gabriel, who quickly caught the glass, shooting back the smooth whiskey in one gulp.
The whiskey burned as it went down, relaxing him instantly. He pushed the heavy glass toward the bartender again, motioning for another double. Gabriel scanned his eyes toward the poker tables and slot machines, quickly spotting his mother.
She was dealing at the far end of the blackjack tables. She was a petite, dark-skinned woman with long jet-black hair. For as long as Gabe could remember, his mother had been working at this casino, so it was like a second home to him.
Lost in thought, Gabriel hadn’t noticed that the bartender was now standing directly in front of him. When had the guy gotten so close? He bristled at the male’s closeness. He didn’t want to deal with fucking anybody right now because he knew he wouldn’t be able to come. But he could sense the man’s lust, and his dick twitched. Fucking thing was not rational.
“Hey, big guy, I haven’t seen you before,” the bartender purred.
Rolling his eyes, Gabriel stared at the young bartender and read his nametag. “Jason, just keep the drinks coming. I’m here almost every night.”
“Well, I just started last night. You’re like the first piece of man-candy I’ve seen in a long time. Tell me there are more like you out here in bumfuck Montana.”
“There is actually. I have a twin, but he wouldn’t be interested in you either, so just keep bringing the drinks and maybe with enough alcohol, you might start looking good to me, Jason.”
The bartender huffed and touched his hand when he took his glass away. Electric shocks fired throughout his body. His arm hairs sprung up. Part of Gabriel wanted to chastise the guy for even attempting to flirt. The other part of him felt powerful, having people fawning all over him, buying him drinks, food, and clothes. He could see the desperation and lust they had for his body, and he fed off those desires. Gabe knew that even with the plain dismissal and insult, the bartender wouldn’t stay away for long.
At night, his dreams were haunted by bright yellow and then cerulean blue eyes. He couldn’t move his upper body; he was tied up with intricate ropes from his shoulders to his wrists. Yellow Eyes always had him tied down, rocking him with barbaric thrusts.
Gabriel loved the feeling of Yellow Eyes’ animalistic desires. He needed the restriction, control, and to be forcibly taken. He always found himself moaning and desiring more from the big, shaded man. His elbows were so close together that pain radiated down his arms, and he was loving the agony of it all.
He remembered the heavy collar on his neck, Yellow Eyes behind him, opening his legs, thrusting his thick tongue into his asshole, making him squirm, grunt, and beg for more, and then finally plowing into him, brutally. Yelling out, a calloused hand grabbed his face. Looking up, light blue eyes bore down on him. His face was always obscured. He both feared and desired these mysterious men.
He opened his mouth and a long, thick cock entered it. Blue Eyes’ cock was smooth and fat. It had a huge Prince Albert piercing at its head. In his dreams, he pulled at the Prince Albert, loving the hiss of pain Gabriel gave him. With these men, he was just a toy, a sexual object for their appetites. They made him beg for release, a release he never got, even in his dreams. He always woke up hard, desperate, and with balls the size of bowling balls. That’s how much they ached.
Jason came back with two glasses of whiskey. “Here are your drinks. Both are on the house; the big guy over at the table paid for them.”
With accusing eyes, he hesitated and looked down at the drinks. Jason motioned with his thumb to the other end of the bar. Gabe followed Jason’s thumb, and in the corner, he noticed another man leaning against the massive wooden bar. Glancing at the other man, he noticed the stranger staring quietly at him. Clenching his jaw tightly, he nodded at the gentleman in a quiet thank you for the whiskey.
The man in question was tall— taller than Gabriel by at least four inches. Scanning, he noted the man was built like a torpedo, sleek and lean. He looked strong and fluid. His body was emphasized with tight bunching muscles. Muscles earned by working outdoors, either in construction or ranching, not gym-grown. Even though the stranger
was not as bulky as Gabriel, he had a predatory, lethal appeal like some sort of feral animal. Ferocious. Violent. Primal.
Under the dim lights of the bar, he noticed smolders of light. Were those his eyes? Capturing his attention, Gabriel tried examining the man’s eyes again. He couldn’t miss their bright amber color, a light golden laser-aimed at his own. Hunting eyes that pinned him like a butterfly on a mounting board. The stranger’s eyes twinkled with amusement, glazing over in arrays of gold, yellow, and honey— like melting caramel, warm and addictive.
Gabriel shuddered. He knew those eyes from his dreams. Impossible. He couldn’t resist staring back at this man. His heart was beating loudly, and like a lightning rod, his blood rushed down to his aching cock. The stranger made Gabriel feel more out of control than usual. Breathing hard, body shaking, he gathered one of his drinks and downed it.
Flicking his eyes back to the stranger, the guy was no longer at the end of the bar. Where the hell did he go? Turning around left and right, he tried catching any movement. Creepy. The guy moved dangerously fast. Before he could start on his next drink, the guy was leaning against his side of the bar, only mere inches away from him, making Gabriel leap out of his skin. Mother Fucker!
Narrowing his eyes, he looked up at the massive male. Not used to having to crane his neck up to anyone, he jutted out his jaw, almost baring his teeth. “How did you do that?” Gabriel asked with a hint of curiosity. His body recognized this man.
“What did I do?”
An invisible tether was pulling Gabriel closer, seeking out this stranger’s warmth and touch. “How is it that you got here so fast? The last time I saw you, you were at the end of the bar, and now you’re here.”
“So, you were watching me?”
Ancient Blood- Masters and Servants Page 2