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Cy’s bare chest was littered with goosebumps in the chilly air. The only clothing he’d been given was a thin fabric cloth fastened around his waist to protect what little modesty remained to him. After enduring several weeks of being jostled and prodded, lugged across the country to be sold at auction, he now stood before the Varney vampyre like a lamb before the slaughter. But he was no lamb.
“He’s not Lord Bathory’s type,” Lady Varney murmured, her tone clipped. Her cool gaze flickered from Cy to the vampyre who held him in chains, then back to Cy again. The tight silk that hugged her form glimmered in the low light, catching on every flicker of flame in their enclosed space. She was beautiful, as all vampyres seemed to be, and a noble judging by her elaborate gold jewelry and the finery of her clothing. She wore the amber and gold of her house, looking all the more impressive for it. But Cy wasn’t easily impressed.
“He’s a slayer. Lord Bathory likes to break them.” Cy’s captor, General Elexus Karnstein, shrugged his massive shoulders, tugging tighter on the chain that locked around Cy’s neck. The movement yanked Cy to the floor, and he gagged.
“A slayer? You’re sure?” Varney’s eyes roved Cy’s form, examining the muscles of his broad chest and thick arms. Cy knew what he looked like. The scars that marred his olive skin marked every vampyre he’d killed. Another kill, another scar. He hoped this vampyre felt a shock of fear to look at him, though he doubted it. Vampyres wouldn’t know fear since they were usually the cause.
“Found him during the Veritas raid in Highgate,” Karnstein explained. “Fought harder than any of the others and took many of our own down with him. He’ll prove…challenging.”
Varney sneered, her beautiful face pulling taut into something less than human. “A Veritas raid.”
Cy could still remember it—the screaming, the bloodshed. Jax wounded with two small children holding onto either of his hands. It had been all Cy could do to protect him, to throw himself at Jax’s attackers and distract them while Jax and the others got away. Their attack on the fur farm had been successful—they’d freed almost all of the humans confined within those dank, putrid-smelling walls. Cy mourned the loss of those they’d left behind. And the men and women who’d fallen to their deaths in the rescue attempt. Jax had almost been one of them. Cy would sacrifice himself over and over again if it preserved human lives.
“And look here.” Karnstein bent lower to push a strand of Cy’s hair back from the base of his neck, exposing his brand.10013.“A pet number. I’m betting this one escaped somehow.”
Varney moved to examine Cy’s mark, her cold fingers caressing the healed skin. A wave of nausea rushed through him at the touch. “How very interesting.” She moved to lock Cy in her gaze. “You. Are you a pet, then?”
Cy bared his teeth and spat at her feet, provoking a boot to his kidney. He buckled forward as the vampyres chuckled at his pain.
“A pet, gone Feral once it had a taste of freedom!” Varney shrieked.
“I told you. He has fire.”
“Indeed. But will that be enough? Thorne has…very specific tastes.”
“Well, do you want him or not, Mirae?” Karnstein grunted, crossing his arms in front of his expansive chest.
“Oh, I want him.” Lady Varney gazed almost longingly at Cy. “But first, I’ll see him stripped down. You understand. Lord Bathory is arriving soon, and I promised him a gift well worth his time.”
“Of course, my lady. Up, you!” Karnstein sneered, yanking Cy to his feet.
Varney smirked. “Undress.”
Cy wanted to bare his teeth and lash out, hating the blood that rushed to his cheeks. He knew the vampyre could see it. She swallowed as she watched him, barely hiding her grin. If only he had a weapon on him or some of his serum, he’d end them both here and now. It was too late to think about any of that, though. He’d given up his defenses when he’d sacrificed himself for his comrades. Now, he was at the mercy of the vampyres.
“Do it.” Varney’s gaze swept to Karnstein, who again tore at Cy’s chain with hasty claw-like hands. The metal bit into Cy’s neck; he could feel the scrape of dried blood over newly formed bruises.
Straightening, Cy undid the ties that held the cloth around his waist closed and dropped it at his feet. In defiance, he stared into Varney’s eyes, daring her to look.
She dropped his gaze and observed his body, taking a slow turn around him to look upon every inch.
“Well-endowed. Muscular. He looks dangerous…for a human, that is.”
“He is.”
“Will he be of any risk to my family or the Bathory’s?”
“Not without his weapons. Or the ‘serum.’ You know the Veritas gives them vampyre blood to make them stronger?”
Cy didn’t react as Lady Varney cocked a brow and moved in closer, cupping his jaw in between her thumb and forefinger. “Do you like the taste of our blood as much as we like the taste of yours?”
“Fuck you!” Cy growled, pulling away.
Varney threw her head back and laughed, a loud, vibrant sound that in any other setting might have been musical in quality. Here, it was almost haunting. “He won’t last long in the Bathory household. But it will be great fun for Thorne along the way, I’m sure! Yes. I want him. How much?”
Karnstein grinned. “I’ll offer him at a fair trade. That pretty female you had posted at the entrance when I arrived. I want her for him.”
Varney feigned shock. “You sly villain! You want my Ashaline?”
