He couldn’t blame him. He had been acting careless. Not thinking of the consequences of his actions when it came to Leo. But Alasdair had never felt such a pull to anyone the way he did with Leonidas, and even now, he felt it. It was almost as strong as the one to the male beside him.
Know this, Alasdair: I do not care if you find him more fascinating. Though I doubt that would be so if you would’ve stuck your cock in him already. He cannot live. And if you do not take care of it, I will.
Alasdair tried to ignore the anger at the words he’d known were coming, but he couldn’t prevent it—it was there regardless. I understand.
Good. You have until dawn. Do whatever you must, but if I can hear his heart beating when the sun comes up, I will rip it from his body myself.
As they stepped into Thanos’s bedchambers, all thoughts and discussion ceased as Eton placed him on the bed.
Vasilios took him by the arm, halting him, then said, “We shall discuss this more after we have seen to Thanos.”
Alasdair gave a stoic nod. “This won’t end well for him, will it?”
As the words left his mouth, Alasdair wasn’t sure if he was referring to Leo or Thanos. Or maybe he meant both.
“No. I don’t think it will end well for any of us. But for now, let us concern ourselves with your cousin. We need him, and as is, he is useless.”
Alasdair walked over to the tray on the nightstand. Diomêdês had brought it in on their way there, and what was on it was enough to make even his skin crawl—a newly sharpened jeweler’s saw and a pair of metal shears. Beside those items sat a bottle of alcohol, and beside that a syringe full of morphine.
What was about to happen would be horrendous. The wound was so deep it was almost a given that it wouldn’t fully heal, and Alasdair only hoped Thanos remained unconscious for the duration.
“Let us begin,” Eton said as he reached for the saw.
LEO WOKE TO the sound of screams.
Not the terrified scream of someone who was witnessing something frightening. But the agonizing cries of someone who was quite possibly dying. The loud noise was low, and as it tapered off due to lack of air, a ragged snarl grit out at the end of it.
The sound was what nightmares were made of.
He opened his eyes, not convinced he wasn’t actually in a nightmare, and took in his surroundings. The room was dark from the lack of conventional lighting and the rich tone of the cherry oak walls. Two lit candles hung on either side of a door, and as the wax dripped down one of the long tapers, he didn’t have to think too hard to work out where he was.
This had to be the lair.
That’s what Alasdair called it, right? The place where he’d first held him captive.
It had that same feel to it. But he’d never been to this part before. This room was decadent—from the wicked invitation of the massive bed he was lying on to the black silk robe hanging over a plush, maroon recliner.
Leo scooted to the edge of the bed when another shout from somewhere outside had him jerking to a stop.
“I’ll fucking kill you! Kill you all!”
The shout was pained, the threat real, and it had him dashing over to the door to pick one of the candles up in case he needed to…
What? Burn a vampire? Yeah, good one, Chapel. They’re immortal. I hardly think a single candle is going to do much.
He pulled the heavy door open, relieved when it didn’t creak. The last thing he needed was to draw unwanted attention.
“Fuck you, Alasdair! Just fucking kill me and be done with it!”
The request, if it could be called that, was choked out, and the gasping breath of whomever it was indicated horrific pain.
When Leo reached the first door down the hall, Alasdair’s voice reached his ears, “Hold still, cousin. Let us get it done so you can heal.”
“I’ll never heal,” the first voice hissed. “Not from this.”
“You will live, and that’s what—”
“FUCK!”
The word was a thunderous bellow of suffering, and Leo reached for the handle. What the hell was Alasdair doing to this…
Wait. His cousin?
Leo twisted the handle and opened the door, using his shoulder to shift the heavy wood. When he stumbled into the room, three pairs of inky, black eyes landed on him. The figures hovering around a large bed were unfamiliar to him, but as he gazed past them, he saw Alasdair straddling the prone form of…yes, his cousin.
When Alasdair lifted his head and his glowing, green eyes found him, Leo’s own widened. He had blood all over his hands and up his forearms. He looked fierce and wild, like an animal in the middle of a kill, but when Leo glanced at the other vampire, he realized he wasn’t feeding from him. He was holding him down while one of the others—
His thought came to a halt as his eyes flicked to the saw in the hands of one of the unfamiliar males.
It was dripping with blood.
He then returned his attention to the figure under Alasdair, and the sight that greeted him was macabre.
Like something out of a horror movie.
The long hair of Alasdair’s cousin, which he’d once thought a similar color to his own, was now streaked with blood, both dry and fresh. The pillow beneath his head was covered with the ruby-red liquid, but what was most grotesque of all was the man’s face.
Where he’d once had a handsome and youthful appearance, he was now howling like a beast and flayed open like a raw piece of meat. From the crook of his shoulder and up his neck, or what was left of it, and to his cheek, the skin had been cut away—probably with the dripping fucking saw.
Still frozen with his hand gripping the doorknob, Leo tore his eyes away from the butchered flesh as his stomach somersaulted. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take.
That was when Alasdair shouted in his head, Get out of here! Run!
The command left no room for argument, and even if he’d wanted to, the fierce expressions plastered on the other three vampires’ faces had him pulling the door shut and fleeing for his life.
FUCK, ALASDAIR THOUGHT as Leonidas slammed the door to Thanos’s room shut. The man’s timing was fucking horrid. Up to his elbows in his cousin’s flesh and blood, he could hardly chase the traitorous human down the hall. But Vasilios would have no such misgivings with leaving Thanos to die so he could track Leo down and put an end to him.
He needed to think and act fast if he wanted that honor for himself. Leonidas had to be eliminated, but not before he got some fucking answers.
“Vasilios,” Alasdair said, knowing it would be much more effective than a voice in his head.
“He is awake,” his sire stated, so slowly that Alasdair suspected he was about to be in as much pain as the man he was holding down was. “You said he was passed out, no threat.”
“He was.”
Vasilios kept his eyes on him.
Alasdair pushed into his mind: It’s the truth.
“Go now. Take care of it. One way or another, that human will be dead by dawn,” he vowed as he moved back to the bed with Eton and Diomêdês. “Thanos, we have one more infected piece of skin to remove. You will live, but perhaps you too will wish you were dead by sunrise.”