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Now was his time to act.
At the top of the landing, Cy halted in his tracks, causing Haven to stumble and whirl around with wild eyes. Before the vampyre could respond, Cy grasped the chain and tugged hard, ripping it from Haven’s grip. Haven fell forward as Cy turned to run in the opposite direction, back down the stairs. The castle was big enough; there were likely places to hide, weapons to use. If he could get away, put enough space between them, he could perhaps find a way to escape.
“What the hell?” Haven hissed.
As Cy reached the first stair, an arm circled around his waist and thrust him backward with more force than he had anticipated. He was whirled around onto his back on the floor as the wind was knocked from his lungs upon impact. As he struggled to right himself, Haven’s boot landed on his neck, pinning him back to the ground with immense force. He choked, writhing as Haven retrieved the chain with seemingly minimal effort.
“A foolish attempt.” Haven’s usually pink lips had gone pale, his pupils large in the darkness. He looked almost feral. “Why would you do that? What did you think you would achieve?”
Cy grimaced, straining with the effort to force Haven’s foot away. It wouldn’t budge. “Let me go.”
Haven’s brow tightened slightly, an almost imperceptible give in his forehead. “I think I’ll keep you here a bit longer.”
“To teach me a lesson?” Cy scoffed, barely able to get the words out.
“Again, you underestimate me, slayer. Like all the rest of them. Don’t do it again.”
The serious set of Haven’s face settled in Cy’s gut. This was a creature who had been underestimated many times over. But even in his weakest state, he was strong—and a dangerous predator. Cy had been foolish to think he could escape.
“Get up.” Haven finally removed his boot, tugging hard on the chain. “I’m taking you to your new master.”
“To Thorne.”
“Yes.” He tore at the chain, and Cy stumbled forward. Expression impassive, Haven turned to head down the dark hall of the second story landing. It was as though their entire altercation had never happened, so calm and blank was Haven’s demeanor. With Cy trudging behind, they dove down a dimly lit hallway, lined on all sides by immaculately carved doors, until they came to one in particular.
A vampyre sentry stood on guard outside the door, his face drawn and bored. But as his eyes fell on Haven, a lazy smile fell over his lips. “Lord Haven. You’ve returned.”
“Is Thorne inside? I need to see him.”
“Of course, my Lord. But he’s occupied.”
“Not too occupied for me,” Haven persisted. “Announce me.”
The guard’s grin remained as he nodded and turned to knock at the door. “My Lord Thorne. You have a visitor.”
“Who is it?” A low, silky voice replied from within. A chill ran down Cy’s spine.
“It’s Lord Haven, my Lord.”
“Let him in.”
The vampyre held the door open so Haven and Cy could step inside. As Cy followed, his eyes took in his ornate surroundings, the room all swathed in delicate gold molding and lace. A large, four-postered bed sat against the back wall of the room, and upon it sat two men wrapped around each other. A human, naked and lost in a haze of lust…and a vampyre. Long black hair cascaded over his shoulders and down his back. His blood-red eyes lit with joy as he locked Haven in his sights and removed himself from the grabby hands of the human on the bed. Standing, he straightened the vest of the three-piece suit he wore.
“My love,” he cooed, approaching with arms outstretched. His body was lean though muscular, larger in stature than Haven, with wider shoulders and a full head of height. And his face, although beautiful, was masculine and angular, his features sharp like cut glass. There was an air of danger about him, like a charmed snake. Erratic and poisonous. Deadly.
This was Thorne Bathory.
“Master.” Haven bowed his head. Thorne stepped forward to place both hands on Haven’s temples, pressing a lingering kiss on his forehead. Stroking Haven’s hair, Thorne reached out to hold him against his broad chest.
Then, Thorne’s eyes strayed to Cy. His brow furrowed as he withdrew. “Who’s this?”
“A gift for you, Master. From Lady Mirae Varney.”
Thorne smirked. “He’s not really my type.”
“That’s what I told her, but she insisted. Elexus Karnstein extricated him from a Veritas raiding party. Said he was born a pet and that he escaped to live with the Ferals. A slayer. They thought you might enjoy the challenge.”
Thorne pulled back from Haven, moving closer to examine Cy. Gently, he reached out to push a stray curl from Cy’s face. “The Veritas, hmm?”
