“I literally just said that.”
“No, I mean”—Shaun glanced at Winnie, who was tapping her foot with impatience—“Lynette said that compulsions between creator and created should only last for a few years, max.”
Winnie shrugged. “Mistress doesn’t compel us.”
Kit’s eyes narrowed on her. “How helpful.”
She huffed. “How about you ask her yourself?”
“What a great idea,” Kit said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Perhaps we ought to pay her a visit.”
Winnie looked at the ceiling in undisguised exasperation.
“Let’s go,” Rake said. He locked the front door, running one clawed finger over the deep gouges Lawrence had left. His insides felt how the door looked—savaged.
It was only Shaun’s encouraging squeeze of his hand that kept Rake from falling apart as they left the former sanctuary of the flat.
Chapter Twenty-Two
DJ
DJ had been sitting on the sofa in silence ever since Lawrence had told him to come into the house. He remembered Lawrence compelling him, giving him the intrusive order that had to be followed no matter what. It had been long enough that the compulsion had worn off, but DJ still hadn’t moved.
He curled up on the Chesterfield with his hands around his knees. He couldn’t close his eyes. If he closed them, all he saw was—
No.
He vacantly watched Lawrence dash in and out of the room, bringing with him various alarming items and leaving them on the table. The pile now included several coils of rope, a few leather cuffs, and a disturbing number of metal manacles.
DJ shook his head to dispel the dark thoughts that ran through his mind. He needed a distraction, and Lawrence was the only one available. So, the next time Lawrence entered the room, DJ broke the silence.
“What are you going to do with me?” he asked.
Lawrence stopped in his tracks. DJ was terrified for a second that he’d just given him some horrible ideas, but Lawrence just smirked. “Don’t worry. You’re not my type. You’re useful. For now.”
DJ ignored the implied warning. “Oh yeah, your type is young boys, isn’t it?”
“Givenyourliaison with Shaun, that accusation is rather hypocritical.”
“But you wish he was younger, don’t you?”
“Shaun was a consenting adult during the entirety of our relationship.”
“You and I have very different definitions of the words ‘consenting’ and ‘relationship’.” DJ paused. “And ‘adult’, for that matter.”
“The strong have always taken from the weak,” Lawrence said, waving a dismissive hand. “It is the way of life, and of death.”
“Shaun isn’t weak, and you’re not strong.”
Lawrence strolled over to him with an air of practised nonchalance. “I should compel you to walk into the sea and keep going until you reach France.”
“Sounds good. I could do with a holiday right now.”
“I assume you’ve never drowned before, have you?” Lawrence got in his face, and DJ reared back.
“No, this is the first time I’ve died, funnily enough.” He kept his voice level, but Lawrence grinned, flashing a hint of fang.
“You’re so new that you’re still breathing,” Lawrence said as he placed a hand to DJ’s heaving chest.
