He snorted, tossing his knife once and slipping it back into his belt. “What you caught,” he said as he stepped toward them, “is a tamed bat.Mytamed bat, to be precise.”
His… what…?
Diego’s mind felt like it had come to a stuttering halt, but as he wrapped his hand around their jaw, looking into their face, they could think of nothing but him: of his eyes on them, sharp enough to cut. “You littlestarlitbitch, I thought I told you to stay with the bike. You know naughty bats get barbecued.”
Starlit.Starlight. The emphasis caught Diego in the chest. One of the Celestial Club’s safe words—but not just any safe word; it was a prompt. Both a clarification that they were happy to proceed and a question as to whether the other person would be comfortable moving forward with them. A request for permission.
Why the hell would he be askingtheirpermission, unless…
It was an act.
He could have been playing with Diego. He would know this word might be soothing enough to convince them to drop their guard. But Maddoxalreadyhad all the power; he could have had their throat slit, had them bound and laid at his feet, taken whatever he wanted without ever uttering that offer of safety. And he’d claimed them. He had to be acting—so convincingly that Diego almost believed he truly thought they were his tamed vampire. He’d been the one to beg for them and bleed for them, and he was quoting their own safe word to them now. What option did they have but to trust him?
Maddox had a lot to answer for, but at least wanting Diego dead wasn’t part of it. They just had to survive long enough to demand the full truth. And, perhaps, to apologize for doubting him.
“I…” Fuck, playing the submissive side was harder than they remembered from the few awkward times they’d tried it at the club.
They focused on Maddox’s hands, those hands he’d used to cut himself open for them night after night. This was between the two of them; the two of them alone. A gift, in exchange for what he’d already given them.
“I couldn’t bear it, master.” They let their shoulders shake with every ounce of emotion and sun-poisoning already wrecking their body, and pleaded, “I just wanted to see you.”
Maddy—their Maddy, whose game they still weren’t sure of, but who they were throwing all their trust into—let his fingers dance over the holy silver around their neck. “How precious,” he hummed. Then he shrugged to the hunters gathered around. “I doubt they’ll be needing these. They’ll be a good little bat.” Like he couldn’t have cared less, he tugged the chain looser and pulled it over their head.
It scorched for a moment as it passed over the bare skin of Diego’s face, but the heat of Maddy’s gaze kept them in place. They buried their sob, the pain and relief an excruciating mix. Every door and window called to them, to their weak legs and trembling lungs: get out, get out now, whatever the risk. But they had chosen to trust Maddy. And they would. Damn them both, Diego would trust him.
The rest of the hunters were not so content to have a free vampire, even iffreewas such a relative term for Diego in that moment.
“You’re letting them—”
“What the hell, Maddox?”
“I thought you were ahunter.”
Maddy didn’t seem the least bit phased. He shrugged and ran his hand roughly through Diego’s hair, gripping it with a tug. “Every now and then I can make an exception, if they’re pretty enough and can learn to obey.” He let Diego go, and they bowed their head lower, repeating to themself,starlight,starlight, as Maddy circled around them. With each predatory pace, the others scooted back from Diego. He grinned. “Tell me you haven’t thought about it? Ofkeepingone.”
A few of the people in the group—a gathering made primarily of white men, Diego didn’t fail to notice—glanced at each other like they most certainly had. One of them squatted, as if he might see into Diego’s mouth from the distance. “But you left the fangs in? That’s dangerous—dangerous for everyone.”
“I told you, they’re tame as can be.” Maddy nudged Diego’s side with his boot, and the laugh he gave would have been chilling if it didn’t remind Diego of years of theater practice, every time they’d rolled their eyes and told him there was no way that would fool the audience into thinking he was anything but a DC villain. He’d perfected the smirk along with it, a cruel thing that held all its joy close to the teeth, like happiness could be found only in aggression. “How else am I supposed to get their venom on demand?”
Oh, venom. Diego’s stomach dropped, but they could see what he was going for: the inversion of an act that had been played out by others at the club over the last two weeks. They could force themself through it if they had to. For Maddy. To get out of this, and ask him what the fuck he’d been doing here. He had better pray he had a good reason.
The hunters had clearly never seen a vampire and human couple enjoying power play before, their faces shifting between disgust and something like disgusted intrigue. “You let the creaturefeedon you?”
Maddy snorted, coming to a stop in front of one of the tables, where lay a map of the local area and a couple of beer bottles. “Fuck no! No vampire is worthy ofmyblood.”
The emphasis was elsewhere, but Diego still caught the word—worthy—like their own secret code. All they could think of was his wrist slit open, his blood in their mouth, his sounds of pain and pleasure as he gave to Diego without asking for anything in return. It was such the opposite of this sadistic presentation; and they had to believe the person who’d been offering himself up at their feet had been the real one. That man had been their Maddy, and he was still there, underneath the act, taking care of them as always.
“We don’texchangeanything with them, do we?” Maddy spread his arms, as if Diego, the warehouse, the world, all belonged to him. “No. We only take.” He snapped his fingers in front of him like he was calling a dog.
Diego went, half stumbling, half crawling, settling onto their knees before him. Their whole body shuddered, the ache in their bones from the sun-poisoning intensified by the movement. They bowed their head, trying just to breathe through it.
Maddy laughed. He withdrew the knife from his belt—a deadly looking thing, long and thick with a dark red, nearly black, caught in the grooves of the hilt. Vampire blood. Diego shuddered again, all horror this time. He lowered the tip of the knife towards them. Their doubts returned: his hand around the pliers, the malevolence in his laugh.
But then he slipped the end of the blade beneath their chin and delicately tipped it up.
Even in this place, standing between life and death, Diego felt the beauty in the motion, the thrill of staring up the length of a blade into the face of someone who could have easily shoved the tip in but had chosen to stay their hand instead. Maddy turned the knife, not pressing in enough to cut, just following the path where a little scar now sat at the right edge of his own chin, marking the place Diego had cut him the first night he’d barged into their event. His eyes laughed.
This time the shiver that ran through Diego wasn’t the least bit distressing.
