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“You don’t get to question me, human. You’re here of my goodwill. The slightest wrong movement, the most innocently spoken words, and I could have you flayed alive. Thrown into the slaughterhouses, drugged out of your mind. Or used as a hole to be filled by the entire Bathory household and the Dominion alike.”
“You won’t.” Cy’s voice was laced with all the confidence Dahlia’s blood had imbued him with. And the expression that crossed Thorne’s face made the truth known. “Because doing so would displease Haven.”
“You think I care about that?”
“I know you do. Or else I wouldn’t be alive.”
Thorne straightened, his lips pulling into a sneer. “The council suspects House Bathory of Veritas involvement. Me specifically. They mean to investigate the entire Dominion. Starting here. My household. Wouldn’t it relieve me from suspicion if I were to deliver you to them instead?”
“Giving me up would only implicate you. I’ll tell them you offered to free me.”
Thorne grinned. “Sly thing, aren’t you?
Cy regarded the vampyre before him, taciturn and unfeeling, a hint of madness flashing behind his red eyes. Thorne could lash out at any moment. If he did, Cy wouldn’t hesitate. He’d defend himself now that he could. Instead, though, they stood still, watching each other. Impassive, unmoving.
The door opened behind him then and Haven stepped inside. When he saw Thorne bending over Cy’s kneeling form, he almost paled—if that was possible of his already pure white skin. “Master?”
Thorne straightened and observed his progeny, his eyes impossibly cold. “What have you to report?”
Haven stumbled, glancing around the room, meeting Cy’s eyes for a moment, silently seeking more information. He met Thorne’s gaze. “The council is feasting in the great hall. I’ve sourced them some blood from the slaughterhouse, the best we have to offer, and gotten some pets to sing for them to keep them occupied.”
“You sourced blood bags?”
Haven swallowed. “Yes, Master.”
“Why?”
“The pets are tired, Master. They’ve been heavily used. They weren’t anticipating the Dominion staying another fortnight. They need to recover…”
“And what ofyou, my sweet? Do you need time to recover? Were your activities last night too strenuous?” He approached, and Haven faltered, backing up slightly so his spine hit the closed door. Cy wanted to step between them, to separate them, but held himself steady. Acting rashly would only endanger Haven. Instead, he measured the strides it would likely take to get to his hidden dagger in case it came to that. Likely only five.
“I’m tired, Master.”
“But not too tired to entertain my sire last night?”
Haven blinked. Cy’s breath caught in his throat as Haven glanced at him, hurt in his eyes. Betrayal. Cy shook his head. No, no. He hadn’t told Thorne anything. He wouldn’t have…he didn’t—
But before Cy could speak to his own defense, Thorne grasped Haven’s chin and brought his face back in line with his own. “Answer me. Gaius came to you last night. Didn’t he?”
Haven nodded. “Yes, Master.”
“What did he say to you?”
“He was worried about me. The other vampyres...took more than I’m used to.”
“So he sat there watching the others drain you and only stepped up to comfort you once you’d had enough? Am I to believe he didn’t partake?”
Slowly, Cy crawled toward the bed, keeping his focus on the vampyres before him.
“He will, though. He wants you all to himself. You think I don’t see the truth?”
“I would never. Master, you know that.”
“Do I?” Thorne’s hand shook as he continued to grip Haven’s chin. “What did he say to you, Haven? He wants something from you. I want to hear you say it.”
Again, Haven’s eyes drifted to Cy’s.
“Don’t look at him! Look at me! I’m speaking to you! I know what Gaius offered you! I know what he asked in return! The Cure for your obedience. Isn’t that right?”
