“Good to know someone has control over you.” Dominic chuckled. “She’s been here less than five minutes and you’re already her obedient slave.”
“You want to spend the next week in chastity?”
Shadow rolled onto her back. She began to groom herself as if losing all interest in the conversation.
“You’ll have to buy cat food while you’re in town today.” Dominic ignored the threat that was more of a promise. “And she’ll need grooming every day with all that fur, so pick up a brush too.”
Evrain checked his watch. “Damn! I need to go. You’re working here today, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” Dominic nodded. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on the fur ball. There’s probably a tin of tuna in the cupboard. That will keep her going for a while. Perhaps I should think about planting some catnip.”
“You think this is all highly amusing, don’t you?” Evrain grabbed his car keys.
“Sure do.”
“Enjoy yourself while you can. Check out the gates of hell on the internet. It’s time you had a lesson in mythology.”
Evrain gathered up his paperwork then headed for the door.
He sauntered along the lane, taking his time despite the cool mist, which was thick enough that he couldn’t see far into the trees on either side of the path. The usual lines of the trunks were smudged like a charcoal drawing, the edges softened and blurred. It appealed to his designer’s eye. Three weeks and nothing’s happened. Perhaps Octis have decided we’re not worth the effort. Dominic had been working with his regular clients and hadn’t seen any more strange women lurking or watching him. Evrain worked from home some days but still went to the office several times a week and he hadn’t seen anything suspicious either. He shrugged. The status quo suited him just fine for now. If the biggest adventure of the week was having a peculiar, overweight cat show up at his door, so be it. Must give Gregory a call about that later. I don’t remember him saying anything about pushy felines. There was plenty to be said for domestic harmony, especially with Dominic to get home to.
He hummed as he walked, planning a trip to a great toyshop he had discovered in Portland that stocked some unusual bespoke items. Dominic was probably researching the gates of hell on the internet already. Knowing him he’d be wondering why Evrain had an interest in Rodin’s sculpture or one of the various places around the world depicted as an entranceway to hell. Evrain’s actual interest lay in a particular set of evil steel rings that he wanted to see around Dominic’s pretty cock.
Juggling his phone, papers and keys, Evrain staggered then fell as a metaphysical hammer slammed into his senses. He clutched at his head, pain stabbing into his skull. He reached for his power but found nothing but impenetrable blackness. Through knives stabbing the back of his eyeballs, he registered that he’d been blocked. He fought back the wave of panic threatening to consume him but it was hard to breathe. The blackness closed in.
Moisture seeping through his clothes was the first thing Evrain became aware of. The cold penetrated at his hip and along one arm. His hair was wet and twigs dug into his cheek. It took him a few moments to work out where he was. He was still on the path between the cottage and his car. With an effort he got to his knees, though weakness threatened to send him head first into the dirt once more. Casting around, he could see no sign of either his keys or his phone. His papers were a scattered, soggy mess on the path. He swallowed, trying to get some moisture back into his mouth, which was dry as dust. There was some kind of restriction around his throat. Tentatively he brought his fingers up to touch and found a metal collar locked around his neck. He tugged at it, succeeding only in making deep grooves in his fingertips. He couldn’t see it to identify what metal it was made of but he guessed it was something pure enough to maintain the block on his power, because when he reached for the elements he felt nothing.
“You fucking idiot!” He couldn’t believe how complacent and careless he’d been. He spent so much time nagging Dominic about being careful to the point of paranoia yet had failed to even keep a cursory eye out for danger himself. Self-flagellation was pointless. He needed to focus because Symeon Malus had to be close. The question was, why was Evrain alone on the path when Symeon could easily have transported him somewhere while he was unconscious? What kind of sadistic game was Symeon playing?
A rustling in the trees attracted Evrain’s attention. Through the mist, which he now guessed might not be natural, he could make out two glowing red points of light. He glanced around. There was no way he was leading anyone or anything back to the cottage. More red spots appeared through the gloom and he could make out the rough outlines of large doglike shapes. There was a snarl. Leaves shivered. It seemed Symeon wasn’t satisfied with a straightforward victory. All Evrain could think about was Dominic and how vulnerable he was back at the cottage. Symeon had been there before. He knew where it was. Evrain had to get as far away as possible.
He staggered to his feet, shaking his head in an attempt to clear his vision. He pivoted then ran into the trees on the opposite side of the path. He had no idea where he was going, just that it had to be in the opposite direction to the cottage. He had to make sure that Dominic stayed safe. His leg muscles ached as he twisted and turned amongst the trees, ducking the groping branches, leaping over knotted roots set to trip him. The mist seemed to thicken but perhaps it was just his eyesight blurring. Then he went down as a stabbing pain clawed at his thigh. He ignored the hot wetness of his blood and ran again, as fast as he was able.
His feet sank into a thick layer of mulch. Clumps of mud and sodden leaves kicked up from his heels at every step. His lungs heaved with the effort of running. Lurching to a halt, he placed a hand on the nearest, moss-clad trunk and tried to listen across the pounding thump of his heartbeat. Nothing. He took a few desperate, ragged breaths. He had no illusions that his pursuers had given up the chase. A hungry howl in the distance confirmed what he already knew.
Evrain debated the point of running on. Symeon and his wolves, or whatever they were, would catch up to him sooner or later. His legs were already burning and the warm stickiness of the wound in his thigh would provide a nicely scented trail. Dominic’s face filled his mind. He had to keep running for as long as he could. The mist dissipated and instead heavy rain came down in a deluge, adding to his misery.
“Just great.” Evrain pushed sweat-dampened hair out of his eyes. “Perfect.” He ran. He could hear his pursuers closing in, howls splitting the air. He stumbled to a halt again, catching the gleam of red eyes to one side and then the other. There was nowhere left to go. He backed against a tree, though it afforded little protection. He might be beaten but Symeon would not find him groveling on his knees in the mud. He squared his shoulders and closed his eyes, picturing the beautiful face of his lover, dark red waves framing creamy skin, soft lips and bright blue eyes. It was too late for regrets. He blinked. Eyes burned malevolent crimson in the murk. A hand grasped his shoulder, long black nails sinking into his flesh through the fabric of his saturated shirt. It took all his courage not to cringe as a smooth, gloating voice whispered in his ear, “Finally, Evrain, we meet again. You cannot imagine how much I have looked forward to this moment.”
“Fuck you, Symeon.” Evrain shook off the other warlock’s hand. “What was this game of hide and seek all about?”
“You made things too easy for me. I didn’t want to deny myself the joy of the hunt. Especially with such…delicious prey.” Symeon raked a long nail down Evrain’s cheek, leaving a burning line in its wake.
“Only you could be so desperate as to sell your soul to the Octis Coven.” Symeon’s eyes narrowed. Evrain laughed. “Yes, we know what you’re up to.”
“And yet here you are with my collar around your neck, blocked from your power.”
“You’re impotent, Symeon—I saw to that, remember? Whatever those bitches are feeding you will wear off and when your power fades, I’ll be ready. You’re pathetic.”
Red lig
htning danced around Symeon’s hand. “Watch your tongue, boy, there’s no one here to help you this time. Be nice to me or I’m going to hurt you in ways your limited mind couldn’t even begin to imagine.”
“At least my mind isn’t clouded by hate, Symeon. You see no further than your own need for revenge. When the bitches have what they want they will discard you like the trash you are.”
“You arrogant little shit!”
Flashes of red light stabbed into Evrain’s body. He convulsed with pain, falling to his knees. Symeon grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. “When Octis is done with you, you’re mine, Evrain, and I can’t wait to make you suffer. And when you are all used up, I’ll be going after that sweet redhead of yours. He and I have unfinished business.”
“I let you off lightly last time, you psychopath. I won’t be so considerate again.”
Symeon raised his hand. Evrain could do nothing to avoid the blow and a brief flash of red was followed by darkness.
Chapter Seven
Felix leaned against the counter in Nathaniel’s kitchen, the solid Italian marble pressing into his lower back. Nathaniel watched him, waiting for him to speak.
“Come on. I know you can’t wait to tell me what an idiot I am.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair.
“Seems like you already know.” Felix raised his glass of iced water in a mocking toast.
Nathaniel fixated on the slice of lemon floating in his own glass. “There’s something about him. I don’t know what it is.”
“He’s a brat.”
“Probably.”
“Definitely. You’re not seeing that side of him yet because Symeon Malus no doubt beat the spirit out of him. A few weeks knowing that he’s not going to be smacked around or used for what his body can provide and he’ll revert to type. Class A brat.”
“How do you get over six years of abuse?” Nathaniel twirled the ice in his glass with his finger.
“You have to remember that Damon was a willing participant—at least to start with. He loved Symeon. Well…he was infatuated with him. He’s only realized recently that the way Symeon treated him wasn’t normal for a Dom-sub relationship.”
“Symeon is a piece of shit. As warlocks we have even more responsibility to take care of those we love. The power takes control to a whole new level. Damon did not consent to be used like he was.”
“And yet Symeon was able to channel through him. There had to be love involved.”
“I think Damon genuinely cared for Symeon. He was too young and naïve to recognize Symeon for the sadist he is. That man wouldn’t know love if it smacked him on the nose with a rolled up newspaper.”
Felix snorted. “If Symeon can get what he needs from the Octis Coven, he won’t be bothered about hunting Damon down.”
“He’ll be safe with us.” Nathaniel rolled his shoulders, listening to his joints pop. “I’m more concerned about convincing him to stay.”
“You want him.”
It wasn’t a question and Nathaniel couldn’t deny it. Damon was exactly his type. “Yes.”
Felix shook his head. “That boy has trouble written all over him. I suggest you invest in some sturdy handcuffs and a leash.”
Nathaniel blinked.
“Ah, you already have them, I suppose?”
“It’s always good to be prepared.” Nathaniel grinned. “Damon’s been moping around the house for two weeks now. He’s drifting. Time to take him in hand.”
“Good luck with that.” Felix’s expression was dubious. “If you want him productively employed, I’m intending to clean out the garage this afternoon. I could use some help.”
“You could eat off the floor in there,” Nathaniel commented.
“Which is why it needs scrubbing to keep it that way.”
Nathaniel wasn’t going to argue. The cars and garages were Felix’s domain. It was more than his life was worth to interfere with either. Felix gave him a brief wave before disappearing to his world of crankshafts and carburetors. Nathaniel set his glass next to the sink then set off to find his house guest.
He had installed Damon in one of several large guestrooms, one with its own attached bathroom. Damon hadn’t ventured out very much. He showed up on time to eat. He seemed clean and tidy—helped by the few clothes and toiletries Felix had supplied—but there was an air of melancholy about him. Nathaniel tapped on Damon’s door but didn’t wait for a response before entering. Damon was lying on his bed wearing a pair of faded jeans and a snug black T-shirt. His feet were bare and his dark hair needed combing. He scrambled from the bed, face bleaching white.
“I…I’m sorry, Sir.” Damon’s voice shook.
“Sorry for what?” Nathaniel asked. “I’m not aware that you have anything to apologize for.”
“I just… You don’t seem to want me around. I’ll leave as soon as I pack. Not that I’ve got anything to put my things in.” He glanced around the room, seeming panicked.
“You don’t get away from me that easily,” Nathaniel said. “I apologize. I thought giving you some space for a while would help you settle in and clearly I’ve achieved the opposite.”
“I’m not used to having my own room, Sir. Symeon made me sleep at the foot of his bed, unless he wanted… Well, unless he…”
Nathaniel held up a hand. “No need to explain. You’re quite safe here. No one is going to make you do anything you don’t consent to. I won’t invade your room again without your invitation.”
“It’s your house, Sir.” Damon stared at his bare toes.
“Yours too, while you stay here. You’re free to leave at any time, Damon, but I would prefer that you stay. I think I can give you what you need, if you’ll allow it.”
“I’ve not had choices before, Sir. I find things easier if someone tells me what to do.”
“That’s not at all surprising for a natural submissive. You should still be involved in decisions made on your behalf. I think it might be helpful if we drew up a contract. One we both agree to.” Nathaniel didn’t attempt to get any closer to Damon, much as he wanted to hold him and provide some comfort. “It helps that you know what I am. Being a warlock is not a simple thing to explain to a prospective partner.”
Damon’s face flushed a pretty shade of rose. “You don’t hate me, Sir?”
“I don’t know you, but I’d like to. I have a feeling we’ll be compatible and I’d like to explore that, if you’re willing.”
“Yes! I mean, I think I’d like that too.”
Nathaniel hid a smile. Damon was transparent as crystal. “Very well. Then let’s go downstairs, make ourselves comfortable and have a chat about what it is you need.” Nathaniel pinned Damon with a stern look. “Don’t bother with shoes and take your shirt off.”
Damon’s pupils dilated until black almost covered the dark gray of his irises. Nathaniel headed for the stairs, not checking if Damon did as he’d been ordered. It was quite clear to him that the boy needed to be taken care of—the craving for affection shone in his pretty eyes.
Nathaniel chose a corner of his huge sectional couch where Damon could elect to sit next to him or keep some space between them. He stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. Damon hesitated at the door then padded across the room. He paused in front of Nathaniel then sank gracefully to his knees.
“I’m impressed, Damon, but for now you can sit on the couch. Until we have a proper agreement between us, I’m your host, not your Master.” Damon rose then perched on the edge of the couch. Tension was apparent in every taut muscle. “I didn’t ask you to come down here shirtless because I wanted a chance to ogle. You’ve been moving stiffly and I wanted to check for injuries.”
“I’m fine,” Damon muttered, folding his arms across his chest.
“You’re bruised.” Nathaniel could see the remains of old wounds on several areas of Damon’s torso. He wondered how much more was hidden elsewhere. “Symeon beat you.” Damon didn’t respond, but then Nathaniel hadn’t asked a question. “An
y contract between us is going to be founded on honesty. Tell me right now if anything he did is still bothering you.”
“Not now, Sir. He… He wasn’t careful the last time he took me. He liked it rough.”
“I’m going to need to take a look, Damon. Stand up then drop your pants.”
Damon’s sigh was one of resignation rather than resistance. His pants slipped over hips that were a shade too thin. Faded yellow finger-shaped bruising was apparent on both sides of his body. There were traces of old welts on his buttocks.
“Show me.”
Damon bent, reached back and pulled his ass cheeks apart. Nathaniel didn’t touch. “There’s still some reddened skin, but I can see you’ve been taking care of yourself. I would like my doctor to give you an internal examination though. Okay, you can pull up your pants.”
“Like what you see?” Damon’s attempt at bravado fell flat.
“You’re too thin. You’ve been abused. But you do have a cute ass. Thank you for cooperating. My intent was not to humiliate you. If we reach an agreement, then I will require access to your body at all times. Before you ask, that doesn’t mean I’m going to fuck you. Your health and wellbeing will become my responsibility. Have you ever taken drugs?”
Damon finished fastening his pants. “No, Sir. Symeon didn’t allow alcohol or drugs, not even cigarettes.”
Nathaniel grunted. “That’s probably the only thing he would be able to claim as a similarity with me. I expect you to keep your body clean and healthy, inside and out.”
“But you’re not going to fuck me? You don’t want me?”
“I don’t believe I said that. But it won’t happen until you ask for it.”
“My choice?”
“Always.” Nathaniel ran a hand through his hair, a repetitive habit he realized he needed to break. “I propose we begin with a simple contract that outlines a few rules. This is for you just as much as me, so I expect you to contribute.” He grabbed a pad from a side table then took a pen from his shirt pocket. “I have few requirements. Honesty, obedience and a willingness to learn. I would like to give you some responsibilities around the house and Felix may also have tasks for you. You’ll follow an exercise regime and support me in my work.”
Elemental Hope Page 7