Conor perched on the chair like a bird, perfectly still, not making a sound. He’d been watching the slayer for a few hours. The scent of his blood drove Conor mad, but he didn’t dare touch him. He’d surely be killed for such an action. He spoke with one of the others in his mind to distract his thoughts from the mortal man bound to the chair, and it helped some. It helped more with Trent controlling the level of the bloodsong. It was uncanny he had the ability to do so. None of the others attempted to understand why nor questioned the reason.
“I know you’re in here.” The slayer, Danny, moved his head around. “You don’t have to be so damned quiet.”
Danny tilted his head toward him, as though he’d scented him out. If such was the case, color Conor impressed.
“Did ye sleep well, slayer?”
Danny turned his head in another direction. Conor echoed his voice to throw him off, but the slayer’s attention quickly returned to the correct spot. Now Conor was impressed and intrigued.
“I have a name, you know.”
“Like it matters,” he replied. “An’ I know yer name.”
“And you are? Since I can’t see you and all.”
“Not that ye’d recognize me if ye could, but my name is Conor Monaghan.”
“Ah, the farm boy,” Danny said. “Who bit me, was it you?”
“Aye.” Conor recalled the taste of the slayer’s blood. It’d held something a little extra. “Did ye enjoy it, slayer?”
“Remind me to kill you later.”
Conor laughed. “I def’nitely will.” Conor walked around him, circling him like the prey he was. He caught a minute scent of fear before Danny covered it up.
“What has Cianán done with Kylie?”
“Don’ worry ‘bout that lassie,” Conor said. “He’s takin’ good care o’ her. In fact, he’s prolly fuckin’ her right now.”
“You mean raping her,” Danny said.
“I doubt it.” He moved closer to Danny. “She’s grown to like ‘im, or did ye not notice earlier?”
Danny shook his head. “No. That can’t be true.”
“But ‘tis, my dear Danny-boy,” Conor whispered in his ear. “Ye just choose not to believe it because ye think Cianán a monster.”
“He is a monster.” His shout echoed around the room.
Danny and the chair slammed to the floor again. Conor heard bone crack. The slayer let out a pained scream.
“Cianán said not to kill ye, but he didn’ say nothin’ ‘bout not beatin’ the blimey ‘ell out of ye. Speak o’ him like that again an’ I’ll make sure ye suffer before yer trial, to the point ye’ll wish ye were dead.”
Conor lifted him and set the chair down on its legs. Danny cursed.
“Wha’s the matter, Danny-boy, too much for ye?” He laughed at the slayer. “How ‘bout this?”
He punched Danny in the abdomen. Danny yelled and jolted forward. Blood seeped from the corner of his mouth. The slayer’s swollen lip bled. He coughed and spit it onto Conor’s shoes. Conor grabbed his face, squeezing his cheeks hard for the infraction, grinding the fractured bones together. Danny screamed in agony.
Conor laughed and let go.
Danny yanked against his bonds. “Untie me. Make this fight fair!”
“Ye’d like that, wouldn’ ye? Ye think I don’ know ‘bout yer powers? I know why Cianán ‘as ye blindfolded—”
The door opened. Conor turned to see who it was.
“It’s time, Conor,” Cianán said. “Bring ‘im.”
Conor nodded, grabbed the back of the chair, and lifted it and Danny up. He propped him on his back like a sack of potatoes, and carried him through the door and down the stairs with Cianán following.
Cianán must have noticed Danny’s bleeding lip. “Enjoyin’ yourself in there?”
“Yes, m’lord. ‘pologies.”
“None needed.” They cleared the bottom step and headed into the great hall. “Put him over there.”
Conor carried Danny over to the center of the hall, set him down, and returned to Cianán’s side. They waited for the others to arrive.
Conor nodded. He knew what he wanted to say, but refrained. Joking with Cianán was tricky and could get a vampyre killed. Conor didn’t want to be the one who died tonight.
“How exactly is Kylie now, with all o’ this?”
Cianán turned his head. “She no longer feels threatened by me, if that’s what you’re askin’.”
“That’s part o’ it.”
“And the rest?”
“Is prolly none o’ my business.”
“You’d be correct.” Cianán turned to him again. “Ye don’t feel threatened by her, do ye?”
“No, m’lord, but the others—”
“They don’t care for her presence.”
“They’re jealous, m’lord. Mattie isn’ too pleased with ‘er after she killed Cassie. I think it scared ‘im. He was ‘bout to go after her when Cassie begged him to let ‘er do it.”
Cianán smiled. “Aye, that was interestin’. I didn’t realize she knew how to kill us.” He leaned over to him. “The reason there are no swords in my chambers.”
Conor laughed. If his Master wanted to dish, he’d partake, but damned if he’d ever bring up the topic first. “Aye. What ‘bout the winders, m’lord? Aren’t ye concerned she might jump?”
“No. Her desire to live is too strong. But if, on the off chance she decided to jump out the window, someone will be there to stop her.”
Conor wondered who that someone was.
Cianán clapped his hands to get everyone’s attention. “Order, let our court now begin.”
Everyone crowded into the large hall applauded and quieted down.
Purchase Gods & Vampyres from Amazon today.