Rise to Submit [Rise of the Changelings, Book 4] (Siren Publishing Epic Romance, ManLove) (4 page)

Ian raised his hand, but his eyes never left Mason’s face. As the cop tested Ian, Mason gazed over deep brown eyebrows, beautifully thick lashes, and a pert little nose. Ian’s lips were full, nicely shaped, and currently being sucked inside Ian’s mouth as he chewed on his bottom lip. Mason wasn’t worried about the test. Ian was human. What worried him was the fact that Ian was naked under the blankets.

There was no way in hell he could explain that away. Not when he just claimed Ian was his brother.

“You boys are good to go,” O’Malley said with a relaxed smile. His partner came back with their driver’s licenses and handed them to O’Malley.

“They’re clean.”

Mason couldn’t take his eyes away from Ian. The man was so damn cute he bordered on pretty. Ian’s scent, subtle and sweet, sent pure silken hunger through Mason. He was stunned by his reaction. He felt drawn to the man who lay there with big blue eyes still gazing at him. Mason fought the urge to pull Ian up from the blankets and into his arms. The sensation was alarming. Mason didn’t need this. He couldn’t deal with this right now.

“Here you go.” O’Malley shoved the cards toward him, sufficiently bringing Mason back to his senses. “Sorry about the inconvenience. You fellas have a safe trip.”

Mason grabbed his and Ian’s ID and shoved them in his back pocket.

“I’m gonna get some more sleep,” Ian said and pulled the blanket tightly around his shoulders, still cautiously staring at Mason. He was thankful that Ian had spoken up with his excuse so the man didn’t have to get out from the back…naked.

And damn if he didn’t have a nice, soft voice. Mason curled his fingers in when waves of deep brown hair fell over Ian’s eyes. He wanted to brush those strands aside, to feel the texture between his fingers. Mason turned from Ian. He had to. The man was drawing him like no other ever had before.

O’Malley nodded and walked back to his car. Mason closed the hatch and walked back up front, sliding into the driver’s seat. He wanted to bolt from there, but had to seem like nothing in the world was wrong. He also needed to regain his composure.

“Who are you?” Ian asked from the back of the truck. Mason glanced in the rearview mirror as he pulled away, but didn’t see the guy. He was still lying down.

“Mason. Rick sent me to get you.”

“Who?” Ian asked. “I don’t know any Rick.”

Mason was going to kill the werewolf alpha. The guy had sent Mason in blind. “Dorian’s mate.”

“Dorian’s what?”

He was batting a thousand here. “Dorian is expecting you.”

“What happened to that big fella who chased me down?”

“That would be Nate. He had other shit to do, so Rick sent me to meet him halfway.”

Ian grew quiet. Mason glanced in the mirror again to make sure Ian wasn’t up and ready to bail on him. “You okay back there?”

“Just thinking.”

Mason had to stop himself from asking what Ian was thinking about. His only job was to deliver Ian to Rick, not make cozy with him. It wasn’t his job to analyze the man and find out what was wrong with him. It didn’t matter that the human appealed to all of Mason’s senses. It didn’t matter that Mason wanted to protect Ian from not only the world, but from the addiction he had. No, it didn’t matter. And Mason was going to keep it that way.

He was not in a position to care for anyone. He was on the run and living with men on the most wanted list. They moved around so much that some mornings Mason didn’t even remember where he was. There was no room in his life for one small frail human who was addicted to vampire bites.

So why did the thought of anyone putting their hands on Ian piss him the fuck off? Mason needed to get his head together.

“I have to pee.”

Mason drove a little more until he spotted a dirt road off to his right. He turned onto it to get out of the way of traffic and to give Ian some semblance of privacy. “Do you need help getting out of the back?” he asked.

“No,” Ian answered softly. “I can manage.”

Mason nodded as he got out of the truck and waited by the driver’s door. Ian opened the hatch and stepped down. He had one of the thin blankets wrapped around him. Mason watched him as Ian walked toward the woods, and then the guy dropped the blanket and took off running.

Escape.

Run.

Go back to hell.

The low-hanging branches swatted at Ian’s face, stinging his already cold flesh as he raced through the forest. The earth dug into his bare feet, twigs and rocks scraping and cutting them. His lungs were on fire, and Ian struggled to breathe through his terror as he ran as fast as he could from the man coming after him.

A stranger.

He knew he didn’t have a chance in hell of getting away. Mason was a changeling. His speed alone told Ian the truth. He was too large of a man to run this fast, gaining on Ian with every step he took.

That thought only fueled his need to escape. He had heard rumors around the club that Dorian was with a changeling.

Ian jumped over a fallen log and kept going, putting on a burst of speed to escape the man chasing him down. He ducked around a tree and took off in another direction.

Thinking of his brother only angered Ian.

He had woken up in a stranger’s house four months ago, his dear brother dumping him off on some poor couple. Ian didn’t need a changeling chasing him to return him to his older brother, and he didn’t need Dorian’s charity.

He loved his brother dearly and hated that the man probably looked at him like a perverted fuck, but he wasn’t about to be taken to someone who obviously didn’t want him around.

Ian may have been royally screwing up his life—and still was considering he was running through a forest naked. But he didn’t need Dorian—or anyone else—feeling obligated to do a damn thing about his situation.

As he skidded around a tree, Ian shouted, his hands flying out in front of him. His foot had become snagged on an exposed root and he was falling…until a large and strong hand caught him by his upper arm, pulling him back to an upright position.

Ian stilled, immediately raising his hands above his head and slamming his eyes closed. The man chasing him down was three times Newman’s size in strength and lethality. Mason looked like he could snap Ian with ease.

There was a primitive instinct in Ian to run or to fight, but he knew neither choice would bode well for him. Mason could outrun him and he sure as hell could beat Ian’s ass in a fight. So his only choice was to stand very still and pray the man didn't have ill intent.

He listened, straining to hear what the guy was doing. The forest sounds were all around him, but Ian couldn’t hear Mason moving.

A twig snapped.

Ian fought the urge to turn his head in the direction of the noise even though instinct was trying to make him do just that. He had learned the painful way not to move one muscle when in this position. If he even twitched, Newman made him pay.

Ian could feel that Mason was at his back now. The heat of the changeling seeped through Ian’s cold skin and into his bones, but it didn't warm him.

Ian waited for Mason to speak, but the man said nothing. His knees threatened to buckle when Mason moved in closer, and he could hear a faint inhaling noise, like Mason was sniffing him. He wanted to know what the man was doing, but was too terrified to ask.

“Why are you standing like this? What does it mean?” A breath whispered past Ian’s ear, and he knew Mason was bending real close.

Ian tried his best to control his erratic pulse. His mind was racing to come up with a reason he could give Mason, but Newman had never given Ian one.

The vampire had just wanted Ian naked and standing like this whenever he snapped his fingers or commanded him to do so like Ian was a dog. He opened his mouth and then closed it, wondering what Mason wanted him to say.

“Answer me.” The command was heavy with an animalistic growl. Or was that just Ian’s imagination? Whatever it was, Ian was quick to answer the command.

“I’m not sure, mast—Mason.”

He listened as Mason walked back around him. This time his steps could be heard. They weren’t the silent ones that had Ian straining to hear.

“Open your eyes.”

Ian lifted one eyelid, and then the other, staring directly at Mason’s thick chest. The man was tall, broad. Ian’s head only reached the man’s pecs. He curbed the instinctive urge to take a step back. Even though Ian had opened his eyes, he still hadn’t moved a muscle—which was an accomplishment considering it was cold as hell out here.

“Lower your arms.”

Ian hesitated as he snapped his eyes up at Mason’s face and then lowered them just as quickly. The guy was throwing him off. He was speaking in low, even tones. Newman, or Calico for that matter, had never spoken to Ian like he needed gentle care. But Mason’s tone wasn’t harsh, wasn’t biting. He wasn’t sure how to react.

“Do I have to repeat myself?”

Ian lowered his arms, clasping his hands in front of him and glancing down at the ground. He wasn’t sure what Mason was going to do to him, but he prayed like hell the man didn’t want sex. Ian knew he wouldn’t have a choice. The changeling was large enough and muscled enough to take what he wanted.

He stood stock-still, staring at the moss-covered roots as he waited for Mason’s next command. Ian had been going to the vampire BDSM club since he was seventeen. For four years he was told what he could and could not do while in the presence of a dominant male. After learning the brutal way of not doing what was commanded, Ian’s instincts were honed to obey.

That was why Ian had always made sure he made it home. Living at the club full time was not something he wanted. But the addiction had become too much, clawing at him as he sat alone in his bedroom, fighting the need, fighting the call of his craving. Then after a while, he stopped fighting it.

And then Calico had started playing scenes with Ian. At first they were light, nothing deep, but the vampire had still barked out his orders, expecting Ian to obey immediately.

“You are going to walk back to the truck, Ian. If you run again, you won’t like the outcome.” The warning was enough to snap Ian’s brain into action.

He pivoted on his heel, walking back the way he came, and then he became confused. Ian had been running so quickly that he hadn’t paid attention to which direction he had been going. He wasn’t really sure where the truck was.

Ian was horrible at directions when it came to finding a place. He had gotten lost so many times that it had become normal for Ian to show up someplace late.

He stopped, glanced around, but saw nothing but trees and more trees.

“Forget which way you came?” Mason asked as he stopped beside him. His tone was inquisitive, not mocking.

Ian nodded.

“Then walk next to me, but remember my warning.”

The temptation to run was weighing heavy inside Ian, but he knew Mason would only catch him again, and he didn’t want to find out what type of punishment he would receive. His entire backside was still healing from Newman.

Ian winced when he stepped on something sharp, but he kept walking. He had no choice. His feet were bare and he had no shoes. It was painful, but he had dealt with worse.

“We’re almost there,” Mason said coolly.

Ian nodded.

“Don’t talk much, do you?”

Ian shook his head. He started to say not unless he was given permission to speak, but quickly trapped those words behind his lips. The only people Ian found that he could act with a semblance of normalcy around were his family.

He knew better than to let them see this side of him. They wouldn’t understand Ian’s needs. He didn’t even fully understand them. Calico and Newman had called him a perverted freak, but enjoyed playing with him—and having those vampires continually calling him that for four years, Ian had started to believe that something was seriously wrong with him.

Mason let out a long sigh. “So tell me, Ian, why did you run?”

Ian shrugged.

“Damn it,” Mason said as he stopped walking and stood in front of him. “I’m asking you questions. I expect answers, not head shakes or shrugs.”

* * * *

Mason stilled when Ian just stood there, motionless, staring off into space. His eyes were unfocused and he wasn’t moving a muscle. He waved his hand in front of Ian’s face, but the guy didn’t even blink. He had just zoned out. “Ian?”

Was this some sort of trick? If it was, what did the human hope to accomplish? The only thing the man could do was run, and Mason was standing right there in front of him. Ian would be a fool to try.

“Ian?” He snapped his fingers in Ian’s face.

Nothing. Statue-still. Unmoving.

Mason was becoming worried. The guy was just standing there, staring off into space. He had never seen anything like it. It was as if Ian’s body was there but his mind had left. Mason might even think the man was asleep, but his eyes were open.

And then Ian dropped to the ground, floundering around. Just like that. Mason cursed as he dropped to his knees and grabbed Ian, trying to hold him down. This had to be a seizure. Mason had heard of them, but had never witnessed one himself. Wasn’t he supposed to put something in the guy’s mouth to stop him from biting off his tongue?