Devon Morgan [Seven Brothers for McBride 5] (Siren Publishing Everlasting Classic ManLove) (7 page)

“Why?” So far, no one had done him any favors.

Clearly, the question caught Devon off guard, because his eyes widened and he shrugged. “Because you never should have been bound up in the first place.” Devon stretched out his hand. “I said I’d protect you, and I’m a man of my word.”

Karsten looked behind him and saw part of the device he’d been trussed up to. This man had carried him all the way out here and then cut him free? That made no sense at all. And then, as he sat there feeling the sun beating on his back and the cool taste of water in his mouth, he began to remember.

“They trussed me up against a building. There was some kind of decoration in the front, and they tied me to it so they could feed.” Karsten remembered the surge of adrenaline pushing him to take flight or fight. When he realized he couldn’t do either, he panicked and passed out. “They took turns and then fought with one another.”

“Gentrymen?” the giant on the horse asked.

Karsten nodded. “At first, slammers came into the thrall house. They were stealing men, so I hid, but eventually the gentrymen came.”

“Why would they come after a thrall?” It was obvious by the look of disgust on his face he thought Karsten was lying.

“That’s Caleb, my brother. You can ignore him.” Devon moved incrementally closer, causing Karsten to instinctually move back, but Devon offered out a bottle of water.

Debating whether he should take it or not, Karsten’s thirst drove him to snatch the flask and then scramble away. After he uncorked it, he poured cold, clear water into his mouth. The taste brought back a vague memory of Devon leaning over him and feeding him water with his mouth. The thought surged a bolt of shocking pleasure down his body, reminding him that all he wore was a tattered silk robe. After a long drink, he recapped the bottle and closed his robe.

“I want to know why gentrymen would come after a thrall if there were slammers around.” Caleb didn’t seem to be speaking to Karsten directly, but he answered anyway.

“Because the slammers had turned on their masters.”

“Were they ill?” Devon asked.

“No. Only the gentrymen had the blood sickness.”

“How do you know?”

Karsten glared up at the giant. “I know because I was there. Were you?”

“Don’t talk to me like that, boy. I think you’re nothing but a tainted piece of meat.”

“Caleb!” Devon rose to his feet. “If you’re not going to listen then just go.”

“I’m not going anywhere until I’ve got you two quarantined.”

“Quarantined?” Karsten was baffled. “Why?”

“Because I think you’ve gotten whatever sickness is making men crazy and I think you gave it to my foolish brother. The only way to be sure is to lock you up until it shows.”

“Only gentrymen—”

“That’s what you say, but I don’t know that. Even if only gentrymen get bloodmad, that doesn’t mean they don’t catch it from slammers and thralls.” Caleb shook his head and resettled his hat.

“When they got the illness, their eyes would turn bloodred. They were so hungry for blood they attacked anyone, everyone, heedless of their class. As soon as they were spotted, they were killed.”

“By shedding their blood?” Devon’s voice was very low and breathless. Karsten didn’t have to ask to know that he was scared. If the disease was carried in the blood, spreading tainted blood around would give it more opportunities to infect others. And now he understood why Caleb called him a tainted piece of meat. He thought Karsten had been infected, but he hadn’t. As far as he knew, only gentrymen got the sickness.

“They would shoot them from a distance and then use hooks to haul them away.”

“To where?” Caleb asked, his doubt even more obvious.

“I didn’t see that part since I was tied up.” But Karsten had seen huge towers of smoke at the far edge of town. He was fairly certain they were taking the bodies away and burning them.

Caleb had the good grace to look ashamed, but he never once took his gaze off Karsten.

“What else did you see?” Devon leaned forward a bit, clearly keen to hear more, but he just as quickly pulled back. “Never mind. Probably the last thing you want to do is relive it.”

“No. I need to tell someone. I might be one of the only survivors.”

“Let’s get heading home first. You need medical care.” Devon stood and offered out his hand.

For a long time, Karsten looked up at him. He desperately wanted to believe his intentions were pure, but so far, he’d never met a man who wasn’t self-serving to some degree. Still, if he refused, they were going to send him back into town. Karsten had no idea how many were still alive, but he didn’t think he would last long. He wasn’t big enough or aggressive enough to fight. That thought led him right into the memory of giving himself to Devon in order to gain personal security. He swallowed hard. Since he’d already bartered his body for protection, he had no choice but to go with Devon and do his best to please him.

Lifting his hand, Karsten took hold of Devon’s. His hand was strong, callused, but powerfully comforting. Once he was on his feet, he winced and would have fallen but for Devon lifting him up into his arms.

“I’ve got you.”

Karsten clung to his shoulders. For the first time in days, he actually felt safe. He was concerned about what he would have to do for Devon, but better in the arms of one man rather than a frantic group. Besides, if he was careful, he could get better and then run away if Devon proved to be cruel.

“Move that stuff out of the road.”

“I will!” Devon snarled at his brother. “Just let me get Karsten on my mount.”

Using extreme caution and care, Devon lifted Karsten up onto the
dressiter
. The beast was well trained and held steady. Karsten sat and waited, watching as Devon pulled the board and chains to the side of the road. As he did, all the muscles in his back and arms flexed, showing off how incredibly powerful he was. He grabbed his shirt, brushed it off, then put it on but didn’t button it. Somehow, that made him even sexier. Confused, Karsten turned away and shook his head. How could he be attracted to anyone after what he’d been through? Devon was just another blood drinker who would demand Karsten bare his neck for his thirst. The thought alone made him feel ill. After all that he’d seen and suffered, Karsten had no intention of ever willingly letting anyone drink from him again.

As soon as the items were out of the way and Devon put the tools into Karsten’s hands to hold, Devon climbed onto the
dressiter
, sitting behind Karsten. He was warm and smelled of dirt, sweat, and some kind of soap. It was a pleasing mixture that relaxed Karsten until he felt the hardness of his cock pressing against his bottom. He was semihard, and his breath, which Karsten felt against his ravaged neck, sped up, indicating his arousal.

Tensing, because he feared Devon would just lower his head and bite, he tried to do something to distract him. Since telling the tale of what he’d seen seemed to keep both slammers riveted, Karsten continued with that.

“You asked me what else I saw.”

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Devon soothed. “Not unless you want to.”

“I do.” Karsten thought they needed to know, and distracting Devon with tales of terror would keep his arousal at bay. “I think they were taking the dead away and burning them.”

Caleb turned and looked back, but not at Karsten. He figured Caleb was looking toward where the town was, probably searching for smoke.

“I see some smoke, but nothing like if bodies were being burned.”

“Depends how many are left.” Devon had twisted his upper body to look back, but he turned around and placed his hands on either side of Karsten to grab the reins.

“Right. For every question, he’s got an answer.”

“You don’t have to believe me,” Karsten offered. “You could always go into town and see for yourself.”

Caleb made a face then turned his attention forward. With a click and a flick of his wrists, Caleb set his mount in motion and Devon followed suit. Since the beast had six legs, there were always two sets of feet on the ground at any particular time, making the ride unbelievably smooth.

“So gentrymen gave up their slammers for thralls? Doesn’t sound right to me.”

“They didn’t give up their slammers voluntarily. The slammers rebelled.”

That caused Caleb to whip his head around so fast he almost flung his hat off. He managed to save it by having quick reflexes. He caught the errant hat between two thick fingers, but rather than place it on his head, he held it in his lap. His long black hair gleamed in the sunlight. It was obvious the two men were brothers, but where Devon had shorn his hair almost to the root, Caleb allowed his to grow out to the middle of his back.

“They turned on their masters?” Caleb was clearly appalled by the idea as evidenced by the face he made.

“The ones I saw had.”

“Describe to me what you saw.”

“Don’t let him bully you,” Devon whispered into Karsten’s ear, making him shiver all the way down to his bare toes.

“It’s okay. At least it will keep him occupied.” Karsten hoped the same could be said for Devon. But he wasn’t fondling Karsten or attempting to press him harder into his erect cock. Devon had his arms around him, holding him centered on the mount as he urged the creature along. For all intents and purposes, Devon was simply giving him a ride and nothing more. It was curious to Karsten that he feared Devon attempting to seduce him but also felt annoyed when he didn’t. Fickle, thy name is Karsten.

“Well?” Caleb looked back.

“I guess the slammers realized that they were many and the gentrymen were few.” Karsten recalled the look of jubilant freedom in the slammers’ eyes as they roamed the streets. “Some were so bold that they tossed their masters in the stocks and took turns using them.”

“Zooks!” Devon’s hand tightened on the reins. “I would never do that to my master.”

Karsten was shocked to see a devious smile twist up the edge of Caleb’s mouth.
Oh, no
. Had he put the idea of rebellion in his mind? It was the last thing Karsten wanted. He was hoping the farm they were taking him to would be a small slice of normalcy in a sea of chaos.

“But didn’t the law try to stop them?” Devon asked.

“They…” Karsten trailed off, unsure if he should tell them the truth. He didn’t want to give the gigantic Caleb any more ideas than he already had, especially when it became abundantly clear he was as intelligent as he was intimidating.

“What?” Devon asked.

“They were the first to go, weren’t they?” Caleb asked while looking right into Karsten’s eyes. If he lied, Caleb would know it. Rather than answer, Karsten nodded. “I thought so. Otherwise they wouldn’t be able to get away with their marauding.”

“Please tell me your farm isn’t like that.” Karsten feared he’d gone from the frying pan into the fire when neither man spoke.

McBride ate everything on his plate even though he wasn’t hungry. What he wanted was blood, but not from Bailey’s neck. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just not that thirsty.”

“But Caleb ordered me to feed you.” Bailey knelt beside McBride’s bed. “He said I shouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Really?” Just how big had Caleb’s britches gotten? “One little taste of power certainly went right to his head, now didn’t it?”

“I suppose.” Bailey looked down. “But Jonas said I should do what he asked of me, too.”

McBride rolled his eyes. Now everyone was going to start thinking they knew what was best for him. In under a day he’d gone from undisputed ruler of the roost to an easily pushed around invalid. To keep the peace, and to waylay Caleb into thinking he was docile, McBride patted the bed. “Come on up here.”

Dutifully, Bailey climbed onto the mattress. “Where do you want me?”

“On your side, in front of me.”

Once Bailey was in position, McBride pressed close from behind. He rubbed the scar on Bailey’s neck, feeling a surge of power when he whimpered softly. Even in illness, he still had a certain measure of control.

“How are things with Ferris?” McBride lightened his touches on the scar so Bailey could think clearly enough to answer.

“Fine, sir. Thank you again for such a generous gift. He’s…he’s everything to me.” Bailey’s voice was almost tragically beautiful. Whenever he spoke of his mate or looked at him, Bailey appeared to be on the verge of ascending into heaven.

McBride felt a confusing mix of pride and jealousy. He was proud of the fact he’d found one of his slammers such a perfect mate, but he was envious of them, too. More than anything, he wanted to have someone who made him go all dreamy in the eyes and turned his voice into a reverent whisper.

“Are you going to feed, sir?” Bailey was lying still, waiting patiently while McBride dithered mentally.

“I will when I’m ready.” McBride realized it was petty for him to assert his dominance over the tender-hearted Bailey of all people. The only time Bailey had shown any kind of resistance to McBride’s rule was when he wanted his mate to stay home while he worked. One harsh word had made Bailey submit. “Forgive me for my shortness with you.”