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Salas used his index finger to make the breach, twisting his finger inside the heat until the man cried out.
“Use oil!” the man gasped.
Salas pulled his hand away. “I don’t have—”
“Then use your mouth!”
Salas nearly jerked away. His hesitation once again revealed itself and the man twisted back once more, gaze still heady though with an obvious warning. “Now.”
Salas slapped his ass, hard.
The man let out a shocked grunt.
“I think you’re prepared now,” Salas murmured.
The man spread his legs immediately. “Then get on with it.”
Salas hesitated another second, then in snappish movement, dove for the chain and whipped them onto one of the man’s ankles. For a horrible moment, he thought that, because Salas’ ankles had been thinner and it had been a snug fit, the clasps would not close securely around the appendage. But alas, it gave, and Salas was just able to snap the other one to the bedpost, trapping the man, before the Malthenian realized what was happening and tackled Salas.
There was an intense moment of wrestling, and Salas was backhanded. When his vision clouded, he thought that he was done, yet he was able to get his teeth on the man’s arm andbite.
With the man nursing the injury, Salas was able to snatch up the key that the man had left with the shackles and dash away, leaving the man chained where he was.
“You filthy fucking whore!”the man roared, pulling the chains taut and looking at Salas with pure murderous rage that promised fatality should he be able to break free.
He looked close to breaking free, if Salas didn’t act.
“What’s going on here?” The voice came from behind Salas, at the door. “Release him!”
Salas was, surprisingly, released immediately.
He turned to face the intruder.
It was Jovack.
Chapter Nineteen
Jovack, the man that Salas had known so well in another lifetime, took in the scene before him as a dry earth would take its time absorbing rain, letting it seep layer by layer, penetrating slowly.
The had-been statesman had always been a sturdy man, of average height, though a bit taller than Salas himself. He wore his ruddy hair longer these days, oranger than Salas,’ around a face that was welcoming its age.
Salas looked at him and wondered when it had all started. Had the seed of betrayal been planted recently before the insurrection? Or had it been buried deep for quite a while, growing and festering, biding its time until it could erupt from the surface?
Salas couldn’t read the man’s expression, though Jovack’s eyes flickered between the the man and Salas with slightly widened eyes, as though bewildered, perhaps, though his eyes always found Salas within moments, in the end, as though unable to look away.
“...You rejected him?” Jovack seemed to wonder aloud. Finally, the shock was there, as though he couldn’t begin to fathom the act being perpetrated by Salas.
Salas wasn’t sure if he had been expecting a greeting, though he hadn’t immediately expected the question, or the accusation behind. What punishment would he receive for refusing the man?
“You Grace!” the man on the bed stammered, scrambling to sit rightly and cover him. “Release me! Whip the boy! He is no bird if this is what he does after what he’s been told to do.
“Silence,” Jovack snapped. Harshly. He didn’t even look at the man on the bed, eyes holding Salas like shackles. He stepped closer. “Why didn’t you do it? Did he hurt you?” There was concern there, though now Salas could see it for what it was. It came from the denial of a pet-owner when refusing to admit the pet had sharp teeth, and had taken a bite.
“Not as much…” Salas had to take a moment to find his breath. “Not as much as I hurt him.”
The color seemed to drain from Jovack’s face as he continued pacing forward, stopping just short of Salas and peering down at him, as though searching for something. He seemed frustrated, as well, that this was their greeting after so long. “I heard he enjoys being penetrated. Did that…alarm you?”
Salas shrugged dumbly, feeling brittle. “No.”
