City of Dragons: Of Flesh and Blood (45 page)

“You fucking bitch…” Rehbek’ah had set him up. She’d made him volunteer. His own personal Trojan horse. And he could feel her, down the lines of blood bound by Temporal fluid calling, wanting, and he had to go. He was powerless to stop himself. Screaming, Orin punched his Chelae through the side of the tub, shattering the ceramic. Hot water boiled out on the floor and he kicked, flailing, fighting like a falling man who fights gravity.

With the same results.

The RHage surged in his chest like a lava flow.

He heard Haley shouting his name and when she threw open the door he fell back against the toilet, wedging himself in the small space between it and the sink.

“Stay…” He couldn’t breathe, he was on fire. Deshi came up behind her. “Get back…Deshi...”

“Orin, what’s wrong?”

He tried to tell her but the connection between his mouth and his brain snapped.

Deshi swayed on his feet, his blue eyes flickering with gold as the Temporal traveled through the air on Orin’s scent. Haley’s nose flared and she grabbed the Prince and shoved him back.

“Orin, how…when…” Her eyes flew around the room and she saw the box and the glasses. “Shit.”

Orin screamed again, trying to fight it, but he was losing, he could feel it. Haley grabbed his arms and pulled him up. The RHage surged, going right for her. He yanked away and hit the floor.

“Don’t!” He slapped at her hands. “I can’t…I can’t stop it.” Oh, Christ. Orin grabbed his chest as Serena’s terrible force rolled, following the metaphysical lines formed by Temporal.

“I..I…h-have…” Orin slammed his head against the wall hard enough to crack tile. Haley tried to hold him still.

“Orin, tell me how to take care of this!”

“No…no…she…” Fuck, the pain, like teeth and claws chewing him up from the inside. “She has my blood…” Orin didn’t know if Haley would understand or not, but it really didn’t matter because he wasn’t going to be able to stop this.

Orin shoved himself up and lurched out into the bedroom. He thought at first he’d tripped when he went down face first on the floor. Then he realized Haley was on his back.

“I have…to….go…go…can’t…” Pure agony raked its claws along the inside of his skull. And it wasn’t going to stop, not till he went to Rehbek’ah, drank of her. In spite of the fact Orin hated the Queen, he needed her more than he needed the air in his lungs. From this moment on Rehbek’ah owned him.

Haley looked at Deshi. “What’s wrong with him?”

“It’s the blood,” Deshi said. “Remember, he said she tasted his blood. Her RHage…” He clenched his eyes shut, trying to breathe. “Her RHage is Blood, Haley. She can call him down the ties…” And Temporal made it impossible for a Male to not to obey.

Orin bucked and pushed Haley off. His body did some odd twisting as he fought against his limbs pulling him across the room.

Haley tackled him again. “Tell me what to do, Orin!”

He shook his head. “Can’t..need…”

Deshi said, “You can use your own to counteract it.”

Orin shook his head. “RHage…” It was all he could squeeze out.

“If she doesn’t do something you’re going to go to her, Orin. Or die trying to resist.”

Haley held Orin’s face and made him look at her. “What if I use my own?”

Orin punched his Chelae through his thighs. The pain made him see stars but it brought some clarity along with it. “No, I won’t be able to keep the RHage down. It will go after you.” When his mind fogged up again, he twisted his grip and almost threw up. “If I’m going to kill someone…I’d…be…her.”

But it didn’t look like that was going to happen either, because the RHage was rising. Like a tsunami it rushed over everything.

Farley was on his second bowl of meat and well into Die Hard when he heard the door open. Bruce Willis was looking all action hero and squeezing out a “Yippy Ki Yay, motherfucker.”

Heikman stepped through the door.

You gotta way with words, Bruce my man
. Farley clicked off the set and stayed where he was.

Heikman didn’t look at him. He simply took off his jacket and said, “It’s time.” His long legs carried him into the back. Farley looked back at the TV and saw his reflection looking very alone.

When he got to the doorway Heikman was folding his coat and putting it on the dresser. His hands worked the tie loose and with a hiss of fabric he yanked it from the collar. Heikman said, “I am only going to tell you the rules once.” He turned a little, hitting Farley with his black Alchemist eye. “You will not fight me. You will not talk to me. You will not look at me. You will not touch me. He attacked the buttons on his shirt. “Are we clear?”

“Crystal.”

Heikman made an angry sound. “You better hope this works, wyrm. My only other option is to go right to the source.”

Farley hit the man with a vicious glare but he’d already turned away, busy with his clothes. Right then and there all Farley’s instincts barreled forward, and when it came to protecting Haley self-preservation wasn’t a part of the picture. Forget just getting out of here. Farley decided right then he was just going to kill the fucker.

Heikman pointed to the edge of the bed. “Sit there.”

Feeling oddly empowered, Farley moved across the small space with liquid grace which was all Kin. When he turned to loosen his pants Heikman said, “That won’t be necessary. It won’t go that far.”

Farley arched an eyebrow. “You sure about that?”

“I
feed
only.” The whipping of fabric resumed.

Yeah, we’ll just have to see about that.
Farley turned away so the Lesser-Bred wouldn’t see the small nasty smile curl on his lips. Rolling his shoulders and flexing his back, Farley made a show of melting into place.
He dropped his head down and to the side so he could watch Heikman in his peripheral. The Lesser-Bred stripped down to his boxers and undershirt which did nothing to hide the massive blanket of color covering his body from the shoulder down. Even in the low light the iridescent Stain glowed, sliding under the surface of his skin like scales trying to rise.

Hunger and
need
rolled out of Heikman
in waves.

Farley gave the SOB five minutes tops.

Leaning back on his elbows, Farley relaxed, eating up the metaphysical heat. He knew exactly what kind of reaction his body would have and the effect on his scent it would cause. Farley’s ability to heighten his taste was something he’d been born with, and four centuries had given him time to hone it into a deadly art. Just enough and he could have a Male eating out of his hand, too much and he could wind him out like a junkie on a bummer trip. In the Dens, Farley was always out matched by brute strength, but when it came to manipulating the
need,
the chances were he’d win.

Farley stroked his hand across his stomach, raising the heat in his flesh and flaring his scent. The Lesser-Bred was starved enough that playing this game was dangerous, but it was imperative he get as much flavor into Heikman as possible. Because when it came to Kin, scent and taste were the pull cords of control.

The Lesser-Bred growled and Farley saw his nostrils flare. His mouth opened and he hissed, flashing nasty serrated teeth.

Yeah, that was gonna hurt.

Heikman turned and Farley put his eyes forward. Behind him the bed shifted. A moment later fingers dug into Farley’s shoulder. He heard a long slow intake of air and then a loud swallow.

That’s right asshole, drink it down.

“Does
feeding
from a Female make you smell like this?” Heikman sounded like someone had taken a sander to his vocal cords.

“No.” Which was true,
feeding
from Haley had just enhanced Farley’s scent, and now instead of just addictive Farley had the potential to be a hot load.

The hand on his shoulder tightened and Farley stretched out his legs a little, bracing himself for the bite. Heikman trembled.

Stupid fuck was still fighting it, and Kin couldn’t fight the
need
. It was better just go with it and hang on for the ride. Fine with Farley though. It made his goal all that much easier. Those who fought the longest always fell the hardest.

“Tilt your head.” Heikman’s voice was almost gone. Farley did. Heikman’s jaw cracked, and there was a moment of warm breath, then the pain of parting flesh.

And just like always Farley’s body reacted to being consumed by going zero to oh-fuck-yes in three point six seconds. His testicles became two hard rocks, a right nice addition to the rest of the collection between his legs which stood the front of his trousers up like a pup tent.

Farley’s scent flared, flooding his blood with taste, and Heikman snarled, driving his teeth deeper, working his grip and tearing the flesh. Blood welled, running in rivulets down Farley’s chest and soaking the hem of his trousers. He opened his mouth to pant and his toes curled into the carpet.

Heikman became a wall against Farley’s back as he slung his head, ripping the wound wider. Body aching and absolutely lit, Farley didn’t hold back. His scent became as thick as a Savannah summer.

The earthquake started in Farley’s legs as the ache in his cock became unbearable. Heikman’s shoulders heaved with the effort to draw blood from the wound, and the sensation made Farley flutter his eyes and groan.

Oh, fuck it. Unlike Heikman, Farley had no desire to resist the urges his body made. And if the Lesser-Bred was too much of a prude to follow his instincts Farley would do it himself.

Not like it would be the first time.

With a trembling hand Farley got the tie loose enough to shove his hand down the front. When he grabbed himself, he yelped, touch causing as much pain as relief.

Farley forced himself to go slow, since too much too fast would probably set the collar off. Yeah, how would that be for a climactic ending? He almost laughed but lost the sound to his own desperate cries.

At his shoulder, Heikman made equally frantic noises as he undulated against his back and shoved his bite deeper. When the Lesser-Bred tore loose a mouthful of deep muscle Farley came. Wet heat ran down the inside of his thighs, soaking his pants. He kept going because Heikman kept
feeding
. Another tear of muscle brought Farley again.

The bastard was making a mess of Farley’s shoulder and back. And fuck him, it felt good, even when Heikman bit to the bone.

Desperate sounds boiled from the Lesser-Bred’s throat, his
feeding
becoming more frantic and vicious; his control sliding completely away. Farley sneered. Maybe with any luck he would fry Heikman’s system right out of the gate. Farley arched into his grip, riding the pain, rolling it into pleasure, pouring all the heat of his metaphysics into cranking out taste.

Ichor covered Farley’s chest and ran in lines down his arms, soaking the bed and the floor. The burn of healing flowed with the burn of the
feed
.

Another orgasm struck and at first Farley thought he’d kicked himself onto the floor, but when the room stopped spinning and he could breathe again, he realized it was the mattress he was kissing and not Berber. His hand was trapped around his cock and crushed into place by the weight at his back. In one hard yank the back of his trousers were ripped free.

A palm shoved the back of Farley’s head and at the same moment Heikman’s fangs slammed into his back, cracking his scapula as he took him. Farley screamed a string of curses and struggled to raise his head. He needed air, but Heikman kept shoving his face back into the comforter. If he didn’t do something soon Heikman was going to be fucking a corpse.

Wouldn’t that just put a crimp in his day?

Desperate, Farley had no choice but to break rule number one. “Let me breathe, asshole…”

And by some fucking miracle the guy moved his hand off the back of his head. Farley turned his face to the side and sucked air like a drowning man.

At his back, Heikman barked once, twice, and his body jerked with release so violent it left him trembling.

Boy oh boy, Farley could just imagine the look of confusion on Heikman’s face. Cause sex had definitely not been in the program.

Farley watched from under half-lidded eyes as Heikman stepped back and stumbled while he tried to pull his boxers back up. On his way across the room he tilted too far to the left and fell. Heikman let loose with a juicy curse but he didn’t get up.

Farley was still grinning when his legs gave out and he spilled onto the floor.

Orin’s eyes were black. Not the black of Alchemist’s with their flashes of telepathic thought, but dead black. Endless. Bottomless. Eternal. And Haley knew this was no longer Orin. It was still his body, his face, but the thing behind his eyes belonged to a Queen long dead.

As much as she hated to admit it, she needed Medan.

The sensation of scales sliding under Haley’s skin brought her a kind of comfort she never thought would exist. Medan’s anger flared but it didn’t hold the potential for fear. This anger had purpose and through it, Haley could feel the Queen’s need to protect her own.

“Fool.” And Haley knew she was talking about Rehbek’ah.

In front of her, Orin’s mouth dropped and his jaw cracked wide. His eyes blinked and his nostrils flared.

Medan said, “Listen carefully, Child. Time is short. You must mark him.”

It was a solution Haley didn’t expect. One that she knew Orin would never agree to. “What? Why can’t I just use Temporal?”

“Because the Violence will not respond to it. This is a Queen’s RHage. That’s why it rose. The temporal formed the Female ties it needed to get out. There is nothing Male left to be held by it.”

Orin’ s tongue flicked out, split at the ends, curling and tasting the scents in the air. His eyes shifted to Haley then to Deshi.

Medan growled. “It’s hungry. It will want to
feed
and then it will want to destroy.” Behind Haley, Deshi moved back. “Be still, little Prince.” He froze. “Do this, Haley. Mark Orin or Deshi will die and then so will you.”

“And marking Orin will do what?”

“You have to take the RHage to stop it and a mark is the only way to do that now.” Haley shook her head and Medan hissed. “You have no choice, Child!”