“Welcome back to the waking world,” Seamus said amicably. He approached Takashi with a silver Bowie knife in his right hand. Runes were etched into the blade. It belonged to Callum Wright. The last person Takashi had seen wielding it was Roger.
Now, Seamus stepped around his desk and brought the blade closer and closer. Takashi steeled himself for the burn of silver, schooled his features into a blank mask devoid of any emotion, and put a mental wall around his emotions. He would not let these creatures know that he was terrified of what would become of him, of what might have already befallen his lovers.
Seamus cut the ropes binding Takashi’s wrists to the chair and smiled at him.
Warily, Takashi rubbed his wrists. He still wore the black wool tuxedo pants that had been part of his outfit for the ball, but his captors had changed his shirt. This blue dress shirt was one from his closet and one he liked.
When he glanced down at his shirt, Seamus said, “The other was covered in blood. We took no liberties other than removing it and the jacket. Both ruined, I’m afraid. Combat will do that, even to Unseelie finery.”
“Unfortunate,” Takashi said dryly. “I rather liked that jacket.”
“It was beautiful.” Seamus handed off the silver knife to Anton as he circled back around to stand behind his desk.
Anton played with the point of the dagger, pushing it against his fingertip. Its sharpness drew blood, and the silver singed him. The slightest whiff of burning flesh mingled with the potent scents of the grave the ancient vampires had. Old blood, dirt, dust, and death created an odd perfume, especially since there was a hint of roses in the air. Takashi glanced over his shoulder and spotted two large vases of flowers beside the study door.
So he’s a little vain about his smell. Takashi tucked the information away. Hopefully, he would live long enough to make use of the knowledge.
“Any particular reason you put me under a sleep spell?” Takashi asked conversationally. Balancing a tone between deferential and confident had taken decades to master, but he fell into the habit easily. Panic would only get him killed; making demands would only incite his captors’ anger. Clearly, they had a plan if they were going to this much effort.
“My love wasn’t ready for you,” Anton replied. He set the blade down on the desk, though he kept his hand on top of the hilt. “We’ve had a busy night. A ball, an attack, and?—”
“And much to Roger’s dismay, I have a coven to run.” Seamus closed one of Zack’s notebooks. “Unlike Nell, I don’t sequester myself away and rely upon others to ensure my territory remains well governed.”
“I noticed,” Takashi said.
“You and Zack notice quite a bit, don’t you?” Seamus asked.
Takashi pretended to relax into his seat. Whatever the game, he had to win. “A vampire ambassador would be dead if they couldn’t make a few obvious observations.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Seamus said thoughtfully. “Which makes me wonder, how could one as clever as you fall in with a pissant with delusions of grandeur?”
“Love convinces one of foolish notions,” Takashi said.
“Was love truly your reason?” Anton asked. He had a far-off quality to his voice, and his question brought Takashi’s attention to him. His eyes were deep red, slightly glowing, and he leaned forward to put his hands on Takashi’s wrists, trapping him against the chair.
Vampires were a proud, arrogant species that boasted more power than they had. They tended to squabble over territory like dogs barking at strangers, loud and without impact. They fuckedand fed and wasted away their immortal lives becomingnothing. Takashi had long lost count of the number of vampires who claimed they could charm anyone with a glance.
As Anton cinched his grip around Takashi’s wrists, he flooded his mind with power. Takashi braced the best he could. Others had attempted to use their ability to sense desire on him before. Roger had even plumed his mental depths, something that had been a violation. Takashi had forgiven him; Roger had been acting out of his own fears.
But each time before had been like a shoelace coming undone, a quiet loosening of his mind that he easily remedied by taking a moment to fix his mental ward.
Anton shoved into his mind with the force of a sledgehammer and began to root around in intimate places. He slid forward and sat on Takashi’s lap. Takashi growled and dipped his head. His efforts to block Anton weren’t working. Each mental wall was instantly shattered. Anton was reaching in, not only sensing his mind but taking hold of desires and heightening them.
“What is going on in here?” Anton whispered. He grabbed Takashi tightly by the back of his hair and wrenched his head back.
I love Roger. I do. But that wasn’t the real reason he had agreed to join him. Nell had given an order, and he had taken advantage of the opportunity. Takashi had been the one she sent to interface with hundreds of other vampires, and he had built a reputation for himself. One that was always overshadowed by being an ambassador to a vampire whose only goal was a status quo. Seventy years as someone else’s errand boy had been grueling.
Takashi wantedmore. He fought not to name it while Anton dug in his mind. Fought not to feel the true source of it. But trying to stop Anton’s magic was like shoving his hands against aburst pipe. Even as he managed to stem the worst, the pressure created another leak, and a stream dripped from what he’d hoped to close off.
“Oh, you aren’t a good little boy at all.” Anton grinned wickedly. He stroked Takashi’s cheek. “I see you.”
The desire that he had crafted mask after mask after mask to hide rushed to the surface. Self-denial, excuses, everything he had laid on top of it to quash it down so even he might not embrace it was cast off as Anton heightened Takashi’s desires.
I want power.
Not for anyone else’s sake, not to help or to soothe or to negotiate. He longed to be the one people turned to for a favor—out of desperation or simply because he was the one who could accomplish it. He wanted people to owehim, to seekhim. The spotlight no longer mattered. The spotlight had been a mortal fascination. He wanted the power behind a throne.
And he wanted to touch and be touched. He wanted to tear into another’s throat and drink blood until he was too full. He wanted to feel his own flesh break and heal and become whole and do it all again. Wanted pain that thoroughly ruined him for anyone else. Wanted to bind someone to him so they never wanted to leave him. Needed to use someone and be used in return. Wanted wanted wanted …
