Rise to Submit [Rise of the Changelings, Book 4] (Siren Publishing Epic Romance, ManLove) (5 page)

Mason pulled his and Ian’s ID cards out, the only thing he had on him, shoving both cards between Ian’s lips. “Come on, stop seizing on me,” he said, conscious that Ian couldn’t hear him.

Just as quickly as the attack had started, it stopped. Mason still held on to him, watching the man closely, but took the cards from Ian’s mouth. He shoved them back into his pocket and then reached down and cupped Ian’s face. “You with me?”

Ian lay there, looking disoriented, focusing on nothing in particular. “Hang on.” Mason scooped the man up and hurried to the truck. He balanced Ian in his arms as he opened the hatch, setting Ian down, and then crawled in with him. He grabbed blankets, wrapping them around the man, cocooning him in as he cradled Ian in his lap. As Ian lay dazed in his arms, Mason pulled his cell phone from his hip holster. He dialed Rick.

“How close are you?” Rick asked after the third ring.

“I haven’t gotten twenty miles from the pickup point.”

The other end was silent for a brief moment. Mason looked down at Ian. His eyes were closed as his head rested against Mason’s chest.

“Are you in some sort of trouble?” Rick finally asked.

“You could say that,” Mason replied without pause. “Ian just had a seizure. Is that normal for him?”

Rick cursed. “I don’t know. Let me go ask Dorian, and then I’ll call you back. Are you safe?”

Mason glanced around looking at the deserted road on either side of him, and then he glanced at a corn field across the long stretch of road. Thank fuck Ian hadn’t run into that maze. “I’m off the main road.”

“Hang tight and I’ll call you back.”

Mason set the phone down next to him and tucked the blankets tighter around Ian. He wanted to take the man to a hospital, but Freedman had warned him that if the fake IDs were scrutinized hard enough, they would fail.

Mason couldn’t chance that, but hell if he wasn’t pretty damn worried right now. A human life lay in his hands and he hadn’t a clue what to do.

He hadn’t signed up for this.

He was supposed to transport Ian to Rick and be done with it. He wasn’t supposed to be sitting in the back of this truck cradling the guy and praying that another seizure didn’t happen.

His cell rang and Mason quickly picked it up. “Well?”

“Dorian said it’s never happened before. Is he able to talk?”

Mason glanced down at Ian, but the man’s eyes were still closed. “No, I think he’s asleep. Should I wake him?” Again, Mason had no clue what to do.

“Just get him here as quickly as possible. Freedman has minimal medic training, but says he can try to help.”

That didn’t set well with Mason. Minimal medical training was basically checking the man’s pupils and reflexes. That wasn’t going to do Ian a whole lot of good. But Mason’s hands were tied. He couldn’t take Ian to a hospital. “I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

Mason hung up and then got out of the truck. He picked Ian up, carrying him to the front seat. He wanted to keep an eye on the guy. He strapped Ian in and then hurried to the driver’s side.

This shit was
not
cool. Mason hated feeling panicked. He hated not feeling in control. Those were feelings he was not used to handling. This was so far out of his realm of knowledge that Mason wanted to quickly get Ian to Rick and be done with it.

But he still felt Ian should get better medical care. The guy had had a seizure. Didn’t that mean anything to anyone? Mason grunted in irritation as he started the truck and backed out of the road he was on, heading in the direction he needed.

“Are we there?” Ian asked as he pulled the blankets down just enough to see the road. His deep blue eyes were glancing at the road sign as Mason passed it.

“It’ll be a few hours.” Mason was surprised that Ian was coherent enough to talk. “Are you comfortable sitting there with the injuries on your backside?” Mason wanted to make sure Ian wasn’t in any pain. It was a long ride to where they were going.

Ian shrugged and then glanced over at him, and Mason could see that slip of uncertainty creeping back into the man’s eyes. The look made Mason think that Ian was trying to figure him out, but he wasn’t sure. The expression wasn’t fully developed, as if Ian was trying to hide the fact that he was puzzled.

He reached up and turned the radio on, scanning the stations until he found some light jazz to listen to. It was something he liked to relax to once in a while, and right now, Ian could use something easy to listen to. Hopefully it would relax him enough not to seize again.

The tune was lulling, helping Mason to settle his nerves after the scene with the cop and then Ian’s seizure. He wasn’t sure if he could handle much more excitement today.

“What is that?” Ian asked.

“What, jazz?”

Ian shook his head. “No, I know what jazz is. They play the stuff in the doctor’s office. I mean the melody.”

“Chris Botti. The song is called ‘Ever Since We Met.’” He was one of Mason’s favorite artists. In Mason’s opinion, the guy was a genius on the trumpet. And it didn’t hurt that he thought the guy was stunning in looks.

“I like it.” Ian settled deeper into the seat as the smooth music filled the truck and provided a tranquil atmosphere.

“Have you ever had a seizure before?” Mason had sensed Ian slowly slipping into calmness and decided now was a good time to bring up the subject.

“Once or twice,” Ian answered as if he really didn’t want to talk about it.

“Do you have any idea what brings them on?”

Ian turned his gaze toward Mason and then pulled the blanket tight to his body. “I’m tired.”

He let the subject go by the wayside for now. Mason was pretty sure Ian would be questioned once they were back at the safe house. He knew he needed to tell Freedman this hadn’t been Ian’s first time. Mason still didn’t like that the human couldn’t see a doctor, but he knew the reason Rick was being reluctant.

Mason glanced at Ian’s absolute stillness and knew it for a lie. He could scent the fear coming from the small human. Ian was terrified to be with Mason, or maybe it was going back to his brother.

Whatever the case, the scent insulted his jaguar and made it want to protect Ian with fierceness, and that thought terrified Mason to his soul.

Rick met Mason in the driveway of the home that was being lent to them by one of the weretigers. They finally made it to Breckenridge, Colorado, but the tigers had taken care of the changeling mercenaries that had been going after the weregeese.

Dorian had paced their bedroom nonstop when he learned Ian had a seizure. His mate was going out of his mind with worry.

“How is he?” Rick asked when Mason got out the truck.

“He hasn’t seized anymore, but he has slept most of the way.” Mason came around the truck and opened the passenger door. Rick spotted Ian. He was even smaller than Rick remembered him. The guy had lost some serious weight.

Dorian’s brother looked so fragile, so helpless that Rick’s heart went out to him.

“I stopped once to take care of the wounds on his backside.” Mason lifted Ian from the seat with surprising gentleness and wrapped the blanket tighter around the human’s body. Rick tried to take Ian from Mason, but the jaguar changeling skirted around Rick and made his way to the back of the house.

“What wounds on his back?” Rick asked as he followed. Nate hadn’t told him about any wounds, and Mason hadn’t mentioned anything either when he called to tell Rick about the seizure.

Mason stopped on the back porch and turned toward Rick. His face held so much anger. His words were heated and filled with outrage. “I’m not sure what’s going on with him besides being a fang addict, but someone has seriously abused this guy. He’s fucking naked and has whip marks from nape to ankles. Some are old, some are fairly fresh, but healing.”

“Let’s talk inside,” Rick said as he waved a hand toward the door. “I had a room set up for him upstairs. Take him up there. Freedman will be in to look at him.”

“He needs a doctor, Rick. A real doctor. You should have seen him. He was just standing there, staring off into space, and then he dropped and started seizing. That isn’t normal.” The werejaguar’s words were biting, demanding.

“Take him upstairs, Mason. You were asked to pick him up and bring him here. Your job is done.” His words were staccato, perfectly enunciated. Rick was not about to stand here and be dressed down by Mason. The man was looking at Rick like it was his fault that this happened to Ian, and that just pissed him off. “If you don’t like the way I’m running things or the decisions I make, you are free to leave at any time.”

Rick noticed Mason’s hands gripping around Ian tighter. “I’m just saying he needs to be seen by a professional.” Mason’s tone had lost its edge, softening, the aggressiveness toning down, but his eyes were still twin blazes of blue fire. “He’s sick.”

Rick folded his arms over his chest, leaning against the railing. “I know, Mason.” Rick’s tone had gentled as well. “But as much as I want to make sure he is properly taken care of, we are in a fucked-up situation. If Ian goes to any hospital and they find out he’s Dorian’s brother, the shit will hit the fan. Ian won’t be safe. I’m not trying to be a bastard here, but I have to look at the big picture. I have to think three or four moves ahead. That’s the only way we are going to stay safe and accomplish what we’ve set out to do.”

Mason nodded and opened the back door, heading inside. The guy was being very overprotective of Ian. Rick had a feeling it was more than just concern for the small human’s health. He walked inside and went in search of Freedman. The soldier had minimal medical training, but at least he could check Ian over. It rattled Rick that he couldn’t send Ian to the hospital, but again, Ian wouldn’t be safe if Rick did.

He found Freedman in the living room, watching Omar look over the expansive bookshelves that ran along one whole wall. Rick stood there for a moment, watching Freedman’s facial expression.

The man looked…enamored.

Even though Omar had been one of Rick’s candidates, and Rick had chosen Dorian, that didn’t mean he didn’t care about Omar. He knew Omar’s homelife wasn’t warm and happy as most changelings’ lives were. Omar’s parents were scholars—just as Omar was—and treated him with aloofness. They didn’t coddle or give their son the affection and touch changelings craved. They demanded he be the best, and Rick knew Omar made up for the lack of affection in books.

The man lost himself in them.

But the small werewolf deserved someone who would understand him and treat him right. Omar was stunning in looks with his short blond hair and pale blue eyes. Rick still thought the man belonged on a runway in Milan.

Whoever mated Omar would be one lucky man. Of course, they would also have to get past Omar’s obsessive need to talk. But since joining Rick, he had noticed the trait had withered away.

Freedman’s eyes snapped over to Rick.

“Ian is here. Mason took him upstairs.”

Freedman gave a tight nod as he left the living room, giving one last glance to Omar.

Rick wasn’t sure if Freedman knew that Omar didn’t really care for humans. Then he wondered if Freedman knew and just didn’t care. It would be one hell of a thing to watch Freedman woo Omar.

Rick watched the blond werewolf grab a book from the shelf and take a seat. He sighed as he spun on his heel and walked out. He really hoped Omar found love.

Climbing the steps, Rick was met on the top landing by his mate.

“Ian is here.” He followed Rick to the bedroom he had set up for Dorian’s younger brother.

“I know,
gatito
. We are going to try and do everything we can to help him.” Rick knew Dorian was worried sick about Ian, but the man also didn’t understand Ian. Dorian couldn’t grasp his brother’s submissive nature, nor could he understand that Ian wasn’t a bad man just because he was an addict.

He knew having Dorian spend time around his brother just might better his understanding.

Or they could try and kill each other.

“Thank you,” Dorian replied as he walked into the bedroom behind Rick. Mason was rolling Ian to his back, removing the blankets with grim determination setting his jaw firm. His hands moved gently, and Rick knew Mason was trying to minimize the pain of Ian’s wounds.

“
Jesus
,” Dorian whispered. “Who did that—did the vampires do that to him?”

“Nobody knows for sure,” Mason answered without taking his eyes away from his task. “But we need to get them cleaned and treated. I did what I could on the road, but he needs to have them irrigated and properly tended.”

“And his seizure?” Dorian asked, but didn’t move any closer to the bed. He just stood there, gazing at Ian’s back with a mixture of pity and repulsion on his face.

“Ian told me that it wasn’t his first attack.” Mason stepped aside, allowing Freedman to move closer to examine the small human.

“But”—Dorian snapped his head up to Rick—“he’s never had a seizure before.”

“Apparently he has had a few since we last saw him,
gatito
.”

“How will they affect him?” Dorian glanced at Ian once more, and Rick could see the worry in his mate’s Peruvian-brown eyes. He could also scent the sadness enveloping his mate. “Will his mental state deteriorate?”