Rise to Submit [Rise of the Changelings, Book 4] (Siren Publishing Epic Romance, ManLove) (8 page)

His mind wouldn’t accept the fact that Ian liked to get his ass kicked. It didn’t fit the man. It was true that Mason could scent the guy’s weakness, his lack of fight—aside from him trying to jump out of window and his battle to get free. But Mason knew that was the addiction motivating the man, not who Ian truly was.

Mason wondered if he had bitten off more than he could chew when agreeing to watch over Ian. He knew nothing about addictions. He was clueless about what to do with the man. But his beast wouldn’t allow Mason to walk away. He knew deep down inside that there was no walking away.

“Aren’t you going to punish me for trying to escape?” Mason sighed deeply at Ian’s softly whispered words. He was already feeling ashamed for wanting to eat the man. It seemed that dealing with Ian was going to take a lot out of Mason. It was an emotional drainage that he wasn’t sure he wanted to invest in.

“My Master would have beaten me to within an inch of my life for trying to escape and then fighting him.”

Mason sat there rocked to his foundation.

Master?

Is that what happened to Ian? Is that—Mason sat forward, resting his face in the palms of his hands as his head swam with this knowledge. He knew that Ian was a naturally submissive male, but he hadn’t known Ian was an actual submissive…in a vampire club.

Oh, sweet mother of mercy
. He was in way over his head. It was true that Mason was a very dominant male. He had played in quite a few scenes of his own. But sitting there looking at Ian’s wounds and knowing now what caused them, made him want to hunt the bastard down who had hurt Ian and kill the man.

“I’m not going to beat you, Ian.” Mason rubbed his hands over his face and sat back, feeling weary and wondering exactly what he was going to do about Ian. He would say he was fresh out of ideas but one had yet to come to him so far. He just didn’t know what to do with the little human.

Mason reached for the rumpled blanket at the end of the bed and covered Ian’s prone body. He had to stop himself from touching Ian. Not in a sexual way, but giving the man what every changeling craved. Touch. Comfort. Reassurance. Maybe a part of Mason needed that as well, but he wasn’t going to make Ian think the wrong thing if he ran his hand over the man’s arm or hair. The best he could do right now was to cover the human and make sure his wounds healed.

“Where are we?”

“Colorado.” Mason sat back down, running his hands down his jean-covered thighs. “We’ve come here to help the weregeese fight off changeling mercenaries.” Talking about something other than what Ian was going through helped relieve some of the stress Mason was starting to feel.

He hated feeling stressed.

“I’ve been deeply submerged in a vampire club for the past few months. I don’t know what’s going on with the outside world.” Ian turned his head, his cobalt-blue eyes staring at him and making Mason’s heart thump a little faster.

“So you don’t know the government declared war on nonhumans?”

Ian shook his head and then laid it back down on the pillow. “I knew my brother was shacked up with a changeling and that they were on the most wanted list. I just didn’t know why. The vampires weren’t big on letting me watch television.”

Mason saw too much in that one statement. Ian’s eyes were haunted, hiding a pain so deep that it was eating the man alive. If something didn’t change soon, Ian was going to be consumed.

“If you want, I can catch you up on what’s been happening.”

Ian studied Mason with silence. A fraction, just a tiny twitch pulled at the side of Ian’s mouth, as if the man were straining to smile. Mason knew in that breathless moment that when Ian eventually gave him a full smile, one filled with merriment, not grief, Ian could demand anything from Mason and he would give it to the man with no hesitancy.

Mason mentally took a step back, wondering if he was staring at the one man who would come to mean so much to him and have the ability to destroy him at the same time.

He was pretty damn sure he was.

“I’d like that.”

Rick leaned against the truck, waiting for Bryson—a changeling who had recently joined Rick’s group before the war started.

He glanced around the deserted alley, scanning for anything that might be a threat. But then again, just being out here by himself was a threat.

He was pulled from thought when his phone rang. Rick pulled it from the clip. “Richard Carson.” Freedman had warned Rick that he had become too lax when answering his cell phone. Just because it was a SAT phone didn’t mean it couldn’t be traced.

So he used his alias.

Rick hated his alias.

“It’s Edward.”

The hairs on Rick’s neck stood on end as he straightened. “What’s going on? Did Nate and Selene make it to you?”

“Yeah,” Edward answered. “They got around the protestors at the blood bank and heisted me enough blood to last for a while.”

Rick could hear the tension in Edward’s voice. The man was mated to Rick’s baby sister, Isabelle. She was pregnant, and Rick constantly worried about her. “How’s Isabelle?”

“That’s why I called.”

Rick heard Edward pause. His nerves were becoming frayed waiting on the rat king to tell him what the hell was going on with Isabelle.

“I had to go to the local weredeer. Isabelle’s having complications with the baby.”

Rick ran his hand over his face as he stared at the truck, his heart thumping wildly. “What kind of complications?” He smashed his eyes closed and placed his free hand on his head, praying like hell that it wasn’t anything serious. He couldn’t lose his sister. She meant the world to him. They had already lost their brother Bruno, and their parents. She was all Rick had when it came to family.

“She’s spotting, from what the weredeer healer told me. Isabelle was put on bed rest for the remainder of her pregnancy, but a group of human sympathizers that came through here said there are Breed Hunters close by. I didn’t find this out until after I sent Nate and Selene away.”

“Then call them back,” Rick immediately replied.

“I’ve tried, but neither is answering their phone.”

“Why does it seem like when it rains, the fucking skies open up?”

“Not sure,” Edward answered. “But it does seem that way most days. I can’t move Isabelle, Rick. I won’t risk losing her or the baby.”

Rick knew that not only did Edward worship the ground Isabelle walked on, but if Isabelle died, so did Edward, and vice versa. Edward had been attacked by a rare breed of vampire. The only way to save his life had been for him to claim Isabelle and live off of her heartbeat.

“It’s my fault,” Edward said. “The weredeer think that since I have to rely on Isabelle to stay alive, I’m taxing her. She is already taxed enough carrying the baby, eating for two, and dealing with so much stress that I want to kill everyone within a twenty mile radius.”

Rick wasn’t sure what to say. Edward couldn’t do anything about needing Isabelle to stay alive. The only way the rat king could take the burden off of Isabelle was to kill himself, but in killing himself, he would be killing Isabelle.

The situation was truly fucked up.

“Do whatever you have to in order to keep Isabelle alive, Edward. I won’t lose my sister. I’ll send help up that way to take care of the Breed Hunters. In the meantime, lay as low as you can.”
Fuck!
Rick was fuming mad, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. He was also so damn frightened that he would lose them both that his head began to hurt.

“You know I’ll protect her with my life.”

“I’ll put the word on the wire that you are coming under attack soon and that there is a pregnant changeling female with you. That will get you help sooner.”

“I already sent out the distress call. Remember, I’m an IT director. I’m damn good with computers. Speaking of that, I sent some files with Nate. I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. I just wanted to give you a heads-up on what was happening.”

“I appreciate it,” Rick said as a car pulled into the alley. “I’ve got to go. You better let me know if anything changes with Isabelle.”

“No doubt.” Edward hung up.

Rick slid the phone back into the case as he watched Bryson get out of his car and stride toward him.

“I thought you forgot about me,” Bryson said as he tilted his head, exposing his neck in respect.

“Honestly?” Rick said as he gave Bryson a nod to let him know Rick accepted his sign of respect. “I’m not going to mix words and lie. I don’t trust you.”

Bryson’s eyes widened as he looked at Rick with a hurt expression on his face. “But I’ve done nothing to show you that I can’t be trusted, alpha.”

“It wasn’t a strike against your character, but I don’t know you that well. And with my head being the most wanted one around, I have to be very careful.” Rick leaned closer, locking light-grey eyes with honey gold. “Understood?”

“Clearly,” Bryson replied. “But I swore an oath to you when I joined your pack. Does that not hold any weight?”

Rick laughed at the reminder Bryson’s words brought to mind. If only it were that simple. He shook his head as he held the eye contact. “Hell no. Not these days. I’ve had pack members betraying me left and right. And those were the people I thought I could trust.”

“Then I’ll have to prove to you that when I pledged it to you, I took my oath seriously and still do. I came from a pack that wasn’t anywhere close to what yours is like. No one touched, no one trusted. I hated it. There is no way I would want to live like that again,” Bryson said unwaveringly.

“We’ll see. Now, let’s get moving before we’re spotted. Just follow me.” Rick got into his truck, pulling out of the alley, Bryson following close behind.

He prayed Bryson meant what he said because Rick was tired of being betrayed. If Bryson turned traitor after that pretty little speech, Rick was going to make sure the man suffered for a very long time before he died.

* * * *

Newman’s hand trailed behind him as he circled around Ian, his eyes glowing so red that the orbs looked like twin moons on fire.

Ian trembled as he stood there—his arms raised high into the air, his breathing labored, but his chest barely moved. He knew better than to move. If Newman saw one flinch, one muscle quiver, the whip in the vampire’s hand would slice through Ian’s back.

“Did you think getting away from me was that easy, human?” Newman moved around Ian until he was standing in front of him, locking eyes with Ian, enthralling him, making him feel as if he were falling…falling…falling into a vast, empty wasteland where nothing mattered and his soul was lost.

“No, Master.” Ian desperately wanted to break the eye contact. He desperately wanted to leave this place. But he was also craving the bite to the point that his entire body was aching for it.

Neman reached out, caressing Ian’s jaw, the claws that were protruding from his nails scraping flesh. It wasn’t a gentle touch, but a reminder of the pain this man could inflict upon Ian.

“You’re hurting for my bite, aren’t you, human?”

Ian wanted to say no. He wanted to tell Newman that he despised the very ground the vampire walked on. But he knew in doing so, he would be denied the one thing he wanted most right now. “Yes.”

Newman laughed as he roughly pushed Ian’s jaw away, and then licked along the vein throbbing painfully in Ian’s neck. The man was toying with him. The tips of his fangs pressed into Ian’s flesh, making Ian gasp, but Newman didn’t break skin. “You’ll get your reward when you tell me what Enrique Marcelo is up to.”

Ian blinked his eyes open. Freedman, Rick, and a stranger were standing over him. Mason was holding Ian down, his breathing labored. “Are you back with us?” Mason asked firmly.

His mind was groggy, and Ian found it difficult to talk.

“You had another seizure,” Rick stated. “According to Mason, this one was longer than the last.”

Ian’s body hurt. His mind felt numb, and the craving for the addiction he’d had for four years was eating at him, making him feel like his body was being stretched to the breaking point.

The stranger moved closer.

“This is Bryson, Ian,” Mason said as he moved back slightly, pulling something from Ian’s mouth. He hadn’t even realized something was lodged in there. “He’s going to help with your withdrawals.”

Ian saw the needle in Bryson’s hand. “No!” he shouted, his body coming to life as he fought the man advancing toward him. If they put Ian to sleep, Newman would find him again.

Newman would whip him for coming back with no information.

Ian didn’t want to give Newman a damn thing.

But the cravings…

“It’s better this way,” Bryson said. “You can sleep through the toughest part. It’s called a chemically induced coma. There is nothing addictive in the stuff that I’m going to give you.”

“No, no, no, no,” Ian cried as he grabbed onto Mason, clinging to him for dear life, trying his best to crawl onto the large man. He still wasn’t mentally focused after being with Newman, but Ian’s instincts to survive were kicking in and his body was pumping with adrenaline. “Please don’t let him do this.”