Unblinking, he whispers, “John… John Chevelle.”
A bolt of lightning zaps me in the gut. I have to fight not to purr.
“Good boy,” I croon, with a brush of my thumb over his quivering bottom lip. “I’m Manuel Blanco.The Ivory… And you work for me now.”
“Wh-what…?” He gasps, dark lashes fluttering at my face. Despite us being about the same height, he’s looking up at me. Like he’s still on the ground.
On his knees before me. Where he belongs.
Fuck me…
“I have a job for you, Jonathan,” I trill to him, a soft rumble.
My coaxing tone. It’s not always genuine, but right now I think it most definitely is.
I want this.
This is mine.
Mine mine mine.
My head tilts as I assess my new toy. My new pet. A project that I see glimmering bright and exquisite. This possession that’s been dropped at my feet like kismet.
I so rarely give in to impulses…
“Can I call you Jonathan?” I go on speaking to him like he’s already mine.Because he is.“I think you’ll like this job, Jonathan… I feel as though you’ll be perfect for it.”
“I d-don’t…” He stops his shivering words and clears his throat, fighting to regain control. “I don’t understand.”
“I’ll explain everything, don’t worry.” I show him a wolfish smile that can’t be helped, looking him up and down again. “But first, let’s get you cleaned up, hm?”
Now for our first test…
Stepping back, I release him and turn, waltzing toward the side entrance of the warehouse. I don’t hear anything at first, so I peek over my shoulder. He’s not running away—good sign—though he’s not moving either. Just standing still, blinking at the carcasses on the ground.
“Jonathan,” I call softly, and his face snaps back up, wide eyes meeting mine once more. “Come.”
He blinks twice. Then he follows me.
I’m grinning to myself as I stride to the door.Good boy.
Opening it with my code, I step inside and hold it for my new pet, who comes in after me. I flick on one set of lights, going for the wash station across the room. I can hear the heavy footfalls of his boots behind me, and it zips more chills up my spine.
Dios, está perfecto.
I cannot believe how splendidly this is working out. Howfantasticallythis entire thing is taking shape in my mind.
Tugging my phone out of my pocket, I place a quick call to Kent.
“Sir?”
“I have two. At the warehouse in Red Hook. Outside by the dumpsters.” I stop in front of the sink. “Heads up, it’s a mess.”
“You got it,” Kent replies. “Anything else?”
“I’ll need some clothes.” My eyes glide over the broad frame fluttering nearby. “Large. And shoes. What are you, a twelve?” I ask Jonathan, glancing at his blood-stained boots.
He gawks for only a moment before rumbling, “Thirteen.”
