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He was much easier to deal with when he was unconscious, that much was certain. He was so handsome too. Heartbreakingly so, if Maddox had a heart.
“The leg will need to stay in a cast for the next three months, give or take.”
“Three months,” Mad mused. It was nothing in terms of the span of his life, just a blink of an eye, but it suddenly felt like a very long time for Will to be out of action. Never mind. He would focus on the whelp’s education in other ways. Will had much to learn. Taking him out so early had clearly been a mistake. He’d overestimated the boy’s mental stability and underestimated the damage prison and early abandonment had done.
“You want me to leave the sedatives?”
“No, that’s quite alright, thank you. I’ll handle him from here.”
Maddox was interested to note that he felt a certain pang of uncertainty having said that, as if he was not entirely sure he would be able to handle Will. Even with a broken leg, the young man was a force of nature to be reckoned with, a storm trapped inside human flesh. Asleep, he was quite beautiful, the hard lines of his jaw still clenched with that eternal rebellion that raged inside him.
He had imagined he understood Will. He was beginning to believe he did not know him at all. He knew the outlines of the boy, the facts and circumstances, but those things did not add up to true knowledge. These weeks might very well turn out to be useful for his study of Will, as much as they would be for Will’s studies of the new world in which he found himself.
“I’ve shown the doctor out,” Lorien said, appearing in the doorway, his long frame leaning elegantly against the wood frame.
“Good.”
He heard Lorien’s impatient sound as he continued to stare down at poor, sweet Will.
“What is it?”
“This one is so broken,” Lorien sighed. “You’ve had much stronger, and they were destroyed within weeks. He has no chance.”
“Those who seem broken may be stronger than they appear.”
Lorien let his gaze drift away with deference to Maddox’s assertion, but Mad knew very well Lorien did not see the value in the pup. There was something intangible about him, a rare quality that only those who had lived and suffered for longer than a century could have any chance of recognizing. To the rest of the world, he was a thug.
William was his clay. Something to be molded. Someone yet to be made. In time, the world would tremble at their feet. For now, scorn was the most obvious reaction. And that was the problem with Lorien. He was young, and so he only saw the obvious. Maddox’s powers were more developed in many ways, but of all the strange and arcane abilities afforded a vampire, he considered the common and shared talent of simple perception most important of all.
It was a long evening. Mad sat perched next to Will’s bed, watching him sleep through the night. He was deep in thought, planning, pondering, coming to terms with the unexpected complexities William had brought with him.
He looked like a simple brute, but there were traces of elegance about his face too, in the line of his jaw, and the sharp descent of his nose, not to mention the wide set of his eyes. There was innocence yet to be destroyed in this handsome human package.
Will began to stir as light filtered through the curtains.
“Shh. No. Stay sleeping,” Mad murmured, brushing his hand lightly over Will’s forehead.
His charge took the suggestion and settled back into slumber. It was satisfying to have some control over him, though Maddox had to admit to himself that he had far less control than usual. Humans were so susceptible to his influence. This one was different in so many ways. He needed careful handling. Thoughtful treatment. He was much more sensitive than Maddox had ever imagined he would be. And much more alluring.
The first time Maddox fucked Will, it had been as a means of sending a message, a shortcut for hours of tedious conversation. Now his desire connected with something deeper. He wanted to enjoy the young man. He wanted to feel his strength and his weakness, his fear and his desire all gripping his cock with that desperate human grip. But Will needed to rest, and Maddox knew all too well that patience could only put a finer point on lust.
6 MORNING
The next morning, Will limped down to breakfast with a crutch. He wouldn’t use two crutches, of course. That would be a sign of weakness.
He discovered that Maddox had prepared bacon, eggs, croissants, and fruit juice. Significantly better fare than Will might have expected to enjoy in prison.
“I hope you are hungry,” Maddox greeted him.
Nothing was said about Will’s escape attempt slash suicide plunge of the night before. There was very little to be gained by dwelling on it. The consequences had been painful and embarrassing enough, Mad judged.
“Thank you,” Will said. He seemed subdued, avoidant of eye contact. He grabbed a croissant and pushed it into his face in a way that Mad found rather charmless. Prison was not known for turning out young men with fine social graces. At least he was eating, unlike the previous evening when he had barely choked down the finest foods.
“What is that smell?” Lorien appeared as inconveniently as possible. “Ugh. Food. What are you doing?”
“William needs to eat,” Mads reminded him.
Lorien’s expression reflected arrogant disgust. Young vampires always thought they were so much better than humans for not needing common food anymore. They took pride in their sanguine appetites to a laughable extent, pretending that human food was the very essence of disgust.
