Rise to Submit [Rise of the Changelings, Book 4] (Siren Publishing Epic Romance, ManLove) (9 page)

“Stop!” Mason shouted.

Ian had thought Mason was talking to him until he glanced up and saw the man glaring across the bed. His arm wrapped around Ian, pulling him close. Ian was shocked at how tender, how gentle those strong arms felt.

He wanted Mason to wrap them around him and cocoon him in a safe place where no one could hurt him, especially Newman.

“He needs help, Mason,” Rick argued. “You saw how he tried to take a walk out of the second-floor window. Do you want him succeeding the next time he tries?”

“Please don’t let them hurt me,” Ian begged Mason in a desperate whisper. “Please.”

Mason’s jaw firmed. “If he gets out of control again, then Bryson can put him under. Until then, I think Ian should have a say in what happens to him.”

“You’re being a damn fool.” Rick growled the words. “He’s playing you, Mason. Just yesterday he was ready to claw your eyes out.”

Yesterday?
Just how long had Ian been out of it? It didn’t matter right now. His only goal at the moment was to stop Bryson from injecting him. Ian curled his fingers deeper into Mason’s thick arms, pushing his feet into the mattress and using the momentum to press closer to the guy. Being in any kind of coma for a few days was not an option. Newman would kill him before the first day was over.

“He’s scared shitless. I can scent it coming off of him and it stinks. If he doesn’t need to be put under at this very moment, then he won’t be,” Mason argued. Ian saw Rick glare at Mason, but he finally nodded.

“He’s your responsibility, Mason. If anything happens, it will be your neck,” Rick said heatedly. “Don’t let his pleas dissuade you from doing what is right.”

“It’s for his own good,” Bryson tried once more. “It’s going to get bad, Mason. Real bad. Think about Ian and what he is going to go through. He may be scared now, but what will come in the next few days are things nightmares are made of.”

It sounded to Ian like Bryson knew exactly what Ian was facing, but at the moment, he didn’t care. He couldn’t let Newman get to him. He just couldn’t. If he stayed awake, if he kept the wall of wakefulness between him and that monster, then Ian was safe.

But the cravings…

Ian slammed his eyes closed and clung to Mason harder, trying his best to fight the claws digging into his mind. He could do this. He could get clean. He was sick of feeling like a damn junkie. He wanted his fucking life back.

Mason’s hand smoothed down Ian’s back, surprising Ian with the gentleness. He had an overwhelming urge to drop to his knees, bow his head, and do whatever Mason commanded. But that was insane. Mason was not his Master. “If it gets that bad, I’ll find you.”

Ian could hear a rough sigh and somehow knew it had come from Rick. He knew Rick and Bryson were only trying to help, though he couldn’t understand why. They didn’t know him. What did they care if he was a worthless junkie?

Oh, right, Dorian
. His brother probably wanted Ian knocked out so he didn’t have to feel guilty about the pain Ian would endure. Ian had thought Dorian truly loved him, but he was starting to see that his brother was more worried about the beliefs he stood on than what was really going on in Ian’s life. But Dorian didn’t want to know about Ian’s depravities. His brother saw him as a waste of life. Ian knew this because he knew Dorian.

The only thing he could do was get clean. He had to prove to not only Dorian that he wasn’t a sick and depraved man, but to himself. He was better than a man who craved an addiction that was going to kill him sooner or later. Ian knew this, but that knowledge didn't stop his cravings. He wished it did, but Ian could still feel the claws of addiction trying to tear him apart.

He had to fight this.

Because if he didn't, it was going to kill him.

Mason wasn’t sure what to make of Ian. The man was clinging to him like his life depended on it, but just yesterday he was filled with venom—although their talk about what was going on in the world around them hadn’t been so bad. Ian had lain there listening, asking the right questions, and seemed truly enthralled with what Mason was telling him.

Rick and Bryson had left them alone, but Ian hadn’t released him. Mason stood there by the bed, barely breathing. Slowly, Ian’s fingers uncurled from Mason’s arms as the man slid back down to the bed.

“Do you want to tell me what that was all about?” Ian’s scent had changed to something he couldn’t identify, and Mason could tell the man was rebuilding the walls around his defenses. Ian was shutting him out. “Were you just using me to get out of being put under or were you really scared?”

It pissed Mason off to no end to think of Ian using him. He had defended the guy, stood up to Rick, who could by all rights make Mason leave. If he was risking his position within this Rebellion group, then he wanted to know why.

“I wasn’t using you,” Ian defended his pleas and protests. “I don’t want to be doped up. I have to be in control of my own mind.”

“Do you think that someone would take advantage of you while you were out of it?” He noticed the jerkiness in Ian’s hands as he pulled the blanket around his bare hips. It was natural for a changeling to see others nude and think nothing of it.

But Ian was human, and he seemed so natural in the buff that it made Mason wonder how long had it been since Ian wore clothes.

Ian glanced away and Mason had his answer. “Your brother is here. Don’t you think he would kill anyone who thought of taking advantage of you?” Mason didn’t mean to so sound so angered, but he was offended. Rationally, he knew Ian didn’t know anyone here except Dorian, but for Ian to look like he didn’t trust even Mason—well, it hurt.

It shouldn’t. They didn’t even know each other, but it did. He just wasn’t sure why. There were emotions brewing around inside of him. Emotions he didn't fully understand. But to know Ian looked at him as some kind of deviant didn’t set well with Mason. If anything, Mason was looking out for Ian, protecting him. Didn’t the man see that?

“What do you guys plan on doing now that the government is tracking the nonhumans down?” Ian asked.

Subject change
. Mason wasn’t sure he liked Ian’s evasive tactics, but wasn’t going to push the man. He knew from experience that pushing only made the pushed shut down harder.

“Survive,” Mason answered honestly. “What other plan is there?”

Trust worked both ways.

“That’s it?” Ian asked. “I’m stuck with a Rebellion group that just plans on surviving?” Ian pushed the blankets around his waist a little harder, his movements still jerky, but Mason could tell it was from anger this time.

Would Mason be angry if he found himself in a group that only planned on surviving, not fighting? Maybe. But he wasn’t a fool. Just as he had to earn Ian’s trust, Ian had to earn his. It didn’t matter to Mason that the man was Dorian’s brother. That held no weight with him. Ian had spent months deep in a kiss of vampires. There was no telling what had been done to him.

There was no telling what Ian would do now that he was free.

But was he free?

Ian was an addict.

Even Mason knew that Ian would always be an addict. But it was his recovery and what he did now that he was away from his drug supply that determined whether his addiction would kill him or make him a stronger man.

“What would you do?” Mason asked. “The war has grown. Changelings are no longer detained at a detention center for questioning. Most are imprisoned, and those who aren’t…” Mason trailed off. It had been rumored that the scientists who claimed lycanthropy was a disease had come up with a cure. But the cure was turning changelings inside out, pushing them to shift, and then leaving them half human, half animal. Deluca and Brooke, two men who had been with Rick’s Rebellion group until two months ago, said they had seen something like that in one of the labs when they were rescuing Willow, their mate.

The two had recounted how the changeling had begged for death. They said it was nothing like they had seen before and prayed they never saw again. Bones were protruding from muscle, the face half formed, tissue and vital organs exposed.

The cure not only forced the change, but mutated them in a way that was nothing short of violent torture. Mason felt queasy just thinking about it. No one should suffer through something like that.

“I would fight. I would have a plan. I wouldn’t cower in some damn hideaway and pray they didn’t find me.”

“Brave words for—”

“What?” Ian snapped his eyes up at Mason, anger clouding the cobalt color until it was a mass of ice. “Go ahead and say it. Brave words for a junkie?”

“That’s not what I was going to say, Ian.”

“Then what were you going to say?”

“Human,” Mason snarled. “You are not on the most wanted list. You can say what you would do. How does it affect you? You could walk out of here and a Breed Hunter could stop you, test you, and then let you go.”

Ian threw his head back and laughed. Mason would have smiled, but the sound was more mocking than humorous. “I am the notorious Enrique Marcelo’s brother-in-law. How far do you think I will get when they discover this? My life is fucked because my brother decided to mate—”

“Go ahead and say it, Ian.” Mason threw the man’s words back at him, only his were filled with so much rage that Mason wanted to hurt something. “Your brother decided to mate an animal.”

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

Mason quirked a disbelieving brow.

“My brother decided to mate the most wanted man in America.” Ian’s sudden laugh was chilling, and not just because Mason hadn’t heard it before. It unnerved Mason to hear such an embittered sound come out of Ian’s mouth. “I tell you, when Dorian decides to do something, he goes
all
the way.”

“Wow, I didn’t realize that you were such a judgmental little shit. Tell me why Rick is the most wanted man, Ian. Is it because he is an outlaw? It is because he is a murderer? Is it even because he is a traitor of his own country, a country he has proudly called his home his entire life until the government he thought he could trust fucked him?”

“Go to hell,” Ian shot back.

“Very educated response, Ian. You should really work on thinking before you give your damn opinion.”

Ian pushed to his knees, his small hands curling into fists, and his face a mask of rage. “You have no idea what I’ve been through! You don’t know me. The shit I’ve seen, what I’ve endured, would make you have nightmares.”

“We didn’t ask to be hunted!”

Ian screamed, throwing his lithe body at Mason, his fingernails digging into Mason’s skin as he growled, spat, and fought to hurt Mason.

The door flew open, Bryson and Rick glancing between them. Ian was out of control. His eyes were unfocused as he clawed at Mason like a wild animal.

“No!” Ian cried when Bryson and Rick pulled him away from Mason. “Please, Mason, I’m sorry. Please don’t let them do this to me. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” His words were shot out bullet-fast, but this time, Mason didn’t stop them.

“Mason, please,” Ian begged. “I promise I won’t hurt you again. Please don’t let them put me to sleep.” Tears stained Ian’s cheeks, and as badly as Mason wanted to pull Ian into his arms and protect the man, he knew this was best. Even though it tore at his heart for Ian to beg for his help and Mason to stand by and do nothing. His jaguar yowled loudly inside of him, protesting Mason’s allowance for this to happen to Ian.

But Rick and Bryson had been right. If Ian could only make it the next couple of days, maybe he had a fighting chance.

“Mason,” Ian sobbed as Bryson gave him the injection and then Rick laid the small human comfortably on the bed. Mason stopped himself from touching Ian. He knew that if he did, he would fight for the two men to get away from the human.

“It’s better this way,” Mason said, refusing to look at Ian. “You need more help than I can give you.”

“I trusted you, Mason,” Ian whispered before his eyes closed and he was sound asleep.

And although Mason knew he hadn’t done anything wrong, he felt as though he had broken that nascent trust that Ian might have been starting to give to him.

“You all right?” Rick asked after he covered Ian with the blanket.

“I’m fine,” Mason quickly replied and then took a deep breath. He wasn’t fine, but he wasn’t going to tell these men how guilty he felt. Ian’s pleas were still echoing in his mind, the look of utter fear in the man’s dark-blue eyes.

Those eyes would haunt him for a very long time. It was bad enough that Mason didn’t understand why he was feeling so strongly toward Ian, but the guilt was something he shouldn’t be feeling. He didn’t even know Ian, yet he felt like he had known the man his entire life.

It was so strange that not even Mason could figure out what he was feeling.

“He’ll be fine,” Bryson reassured him. “He’s just asleep. Science has come a long way, Mason. The induced coma isn’t what it was like thirty years ago. It’s safe and much more effective than it used to be. We don’t even have to give him anything to counteract the drop in blood pressure. I’ll come in from time to time and check on his vitals though.”

So clinical. So matter-of-fact.
But Ian wasn’t just a patient. Ian was…Mason wasn’t really sure.