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“What do you want, Lorien?” There was a note of impatience to Mad’s question.
Lorien made another one of those gestures which was all wrist and elegance. “What do I ever want? Your help, of course.”
Will saw Maddox react with curiosity and also concern. “Let me get Will settled, and we will speak.”
“Who is that?” Will asked the question as Maddox led him off to his room. It was very much like being put to bed, a dynamic which made him feel uncomfortably hot with even further embarrassment. There seemed to be no end to the multitude of tiny shames inflicted upon him in this household of which he barely considered himself a member. He had failed today. Failure always came at a price.
“Family,” Maddox explained briefly. “Shower and go to bed. I will see you in the morning.”
Maddox left Will at the door to his room, expecting him to obey, obviously. Will lingered in the doorway before shutting himself away as he had been instructed. He was not as curious about the familial stranger as he should have been. He was focused inwardly on his inability to kill, on the way fear had locked him out of control of his own musculature, and nothing in his brutal psyche had been able to break through.
He leaned back against the hard, polished surface and struggled to take a deep breath. He did not want to be weak. Could not bear being in any way small. And yet, here he was, the captive of a creature nobody really believed in, being made small and weak and useless to himself and his unholy handler.
Food.
That was all he was, really. If he could not serve Maddox then he figured he would become dinner, like a cow that failed to give milk. Will let his head fall back against the door, closed his eyes and relived the experience of being drunk from, turning from a person of thought and feeling to nothing more than a vessel containing essence for another, more powerful creature.
Fuck.
5
Prodigal Son
Lorien was still waiting when Maddox returned. Mad was glad he did not have to sleep, for there would have been little time to do so in between all the many responsibilities and troubles which inevitably found their way to his doorstep. This one was six feet two of some of the worst kinds of trouble all combined together in an elegantly twisted package.
“You put that one to bed. Adorable,” Lorien grinned. Was that a glimmer of jealousy in those cold blue eyes? More importantly, what was causing that raspiness in his voice?
“What’s going on now, Lorien?”
“The usual vamp drama,” Lorien waved a hand airily. The more casual Lorien insisted on being, the more certain Maddox was that something serious had happened. The last time the young vampire had been in his presence, it had not ended well. In fact, declarations had been made as to never being in one another’s company ever again. Maddox was not the kind to rub a puppy’s nose in its mess, and he could certainly smell a mess.
“What kind of drama?” It was distasteful phrase, but he used it for convenience’s sake.
Lorien was like a son to Maddox, or more accurately, a troubled nephew. It was not a small matter to create one of their kind. It came with a great deal of responsibility. A fledgling had to be raised. In Lorien’s case, his maker had lost interest within weeks of turning him. Maddox had stepped in to fill the void, but he had never been able to truly give the younger vampire what he needed. The bond between a maker and fledgling was irreplaceable, and in Lorien’s case, impossible.
“Bertram and Ernest want me dead.” Lorien put his hand to his throat. Maddox pretended not to notice that his hand came away black with blood. He was wounded. Probably badly. He didn’t want to admit it, of course. Lorien never admitted when he was hurt.
“Because?”
“Because they think they own Brooklyn, that’s why.”
Territory was getting tight. There were too many vampires in New York. The time for a thinning of the ranks had come and gone and now tensions were spilling over into violence. Lorien was considered by some to be an easy target because he made himself one, and because he did not have his maker’s favor. But those who had any sense knew that he was under Maddox’s protection, which made what Mad suspected must have happened all the more untenable.
“Stand up,” Maddox said.
A slow smile played over Lorien’s lips. “I’d rather not.”
“You're wounded, aren’t you.”
“Nothing I won’t recover from in due course.”
Maddox sighed. “Can you not stay out of trouble?” He did not know why he was bothering to ask the question. When still human, Lorien had been a gadfly and a cad. A rake and a gambler. As a vampire he was still all those things.
