42. Sitting together in the carnage. #2
The words stopped Nick dead in his tracks. Images flashed through his mind—Caleb’s scarred face, his gentle nature, the way he’d forgiven Nick for everything. The Society getting their hands on someone sofundamentallygood.
Shaw’s smile widened as he saw the effect of his words.
“We can avoid all that nastiness if you just behave. You remember how to behave, right, Nicholas? We can leave your brother alone. Hell, we can leave all those deluded vampires down there alone, if you just come back to the Society. You were our best. We need you.”
He’s lying , the hunter voice saidimmediately. He’ll never leave them alone . This is manipulation .
But what if he’s not? What if Caleb gets hurt because we fought back?
Caleb would rather die than see us enslaved again.
But the fear was real, visceral. The thought of his brother in Owen’s hands, in Shaw’s hands, being broken the way he had been broken.
“Why does it have to be me?”Nick asked, his voice smaller than he intended.
Shaw’s expression grew almost fond.“Be a good boy and I’ll tell you.”
Play the part. Get him talking .
But be ready, the submissive added. The moment you have what you need, fight.
Nick’s mind raced, trying to determine his next move while holding back the terror of Caleb being hurt. Angry tears blurred his vision as hereluctantly lowered himself to his knees. His glare never left Shaw’s face, defiance burning even in submission.
Shaw loomed over him, satisfaction radiating from every line of his body.“Promise me you won’t hurt Caleb,”Nick said.
“If you stay on your best behavior, I’ll make it so no Society operative ever gets within one hundred miles of your brother,”Shaw said, his tone magnanimous.
“I’ll even sweeten the deal, Nicholas. I won’t share you this time.
You want your mind intact? We can do that.
Would you prefer not to remember? We can do that too. ”
The casual offer to destroy his mind again made Nick’s stomach churn, but he forced himself to stay focused. Keep him talking. Get what you need.
“Why me?”Nick asked again.
Shaw’s expression grew contemplative, almost philosophical.
“I could say a lot of reasons. I’ve never seen someone fight as hard as you do to live a life so terrible.
You are good at training new hunters. That soft mind of yours can soeasilybe shaped.
..”His voice dropped to something obscene.
“But if we’re being honest? You fascinate me.
I’ve never encountered someone with blood so sweet or a mouth so soft. ..”
Shaw’s thumb pressed against Nick’s lips, pushing into his mouth with possessive familiarity. The violation was casual, expected, just like it had always been.
A sharp whistle cut through the air—clear C with rising intonation. Luka.
Shaw’s head turned toward the sound, distracted for just a moment.
Nick bit down with everything he had.
Shaw screamed as Nick’s teeth sank through skin and muscle, grinding against bone. Shaw tried to jerk his hand back, but Nick grabbed his wrist, holding tight as Shaw yanked backward. Skin and nail and muscle tore away, leaving the thumb mangled and degloved.
Nick spat the flesh onto the floor and didn’t wait. His hand shot out, grabbing the bread knife as Shaw staggered backward clutching his thumb. Nick dove low, swinging his legs around Shaw’s ankle to hold it in place, and drove the serrated edge toward the vampire’s Achilles tendon.
The knife bit through fabric, then skin, then deeper. Nick sawed through pants and socks and flesh with vicious determination until he heard the wet snap of tendons parting.
Shaw’s scream of rage and pain echoed through the empty diner as he collapsed to one knee. His hand shot out, fingers tangling in Nick’s hair, yanking his head back with vicious force. The bread knife went flying, clattering across the tile floor.
“We’redefinitelygoing to keep your memory intact this time,”Shaw snarled, his fangs extendingfullyas he dragged Nick closer.
Shaw’s bite was nothing like Luka’s gentle feeding. Fangs tore through skin with brutal efficiency, designed to hurt rather than pleasure. Nick screamed, clawing at Shaw’s face, his fingernails raking across flesh as Shaw drank.
Black spots danced at the edges of Nick’s vision. Shaw’s grip was iron, holding him in place as blood flowed between them. Nick’s struggles grew weaker as strength left him with each pull of Shaw’s mouth.
Then, cutting through the eerie silence of the kitchen like salvation itself, came a single, rasped word:“Nick!”
Luka appeared in the doorway like a blood-covered angel, jade eyes blazing with protective fury. He moved with inhuman speed, crossing the kitchen in a blur of motion that ended with Shaw and Nick sprawlingsidewaysacross the floor from the impact.
Shaw’s fangs tore free of Nick’s throat as they hit the ground, sending fresh crimson spattering across the tiles. Nick gasped, pressing his hand to the wounds, feeling warmth pulse between his fingers.
Shaw rolled away from the impact, coming up in a defensive crouch despite his severed Achilles. Nick could see his mangled thumb dripping blood, and the way Shaw’s stance favored his uninjured leg.
Luka moved with fluid precision, putting himself between Nick and Shaw. Nick could see his jade eyes had gonecompletelyblack, fangsfullyextended, every line of his body radiating lethal intent. But he didn’t charge—instead, he circledslowly, forcing Shaw to pivot on his damaged leg.
Smart, Nick realized. He’s making Shaw work harder to track him.
Luka whistled a soft B-flat as he continued circling, the soundbarelyaudible but clear enough for Nick to understand: heads up.
Shaw’s eyes flicked between them, and Nick caught the confusion on his features at their musical communication.
Nick scanned the kitchen. The bread knife was too far away, but there—a heavy meat cleaver lay abandoned on the prep counter.
Shaw lunged at Luka with surprising speed despite his injury, fangs bared and fingers grasping. Luka twisted aside, letting Shaw’s momentum carry him passed, then delivered a vicious elbow to Shaw’s spine that sent him stumbling forward.
Luka whistled again as Shaw spun around.
Nick dropped into a crouch as Shaw’s wild backhand swept through the air where his head had been. The vampire’s balance was compromised—the severed tendon making him overcompensate, leaving openings Nick never saw in their sparring sessions.
Nick dove for the cleaver, his fingers closing around the handle just as Shaw’s attention snapped back to him.
He always leads with the right when he’s angry, Nick remembered. And he drops his guard when he thinks he’s winning.
Luka struck out, coming in low and fast at Shaw’s injured side. Shaw twisted to defend, his damaged foot sliding on the blood-slick tiles. The distraction lasted only a heartbeat, but it was enough.
Luka whistled a clear C— now —and Nick drove forward with the cleaver aimed at Shaw’s neck.
Shaw caught Nick’s wrist just inches from his throat, his grip like iron.“Predictable,”he sneered.
But Nick had anticipated that very move; with Shaw always countering the obvious attack, Nick stomped down hard on the mangled Achilles, drawing an agonized scream that buckled the vampire’s leg and loosened his hold just enough for Nick to twist free and bring the cleaver down in a vicious arc.
The blade sank deep into Shaw’s shoulder, severing muscle and scraping bone in a spray of blood that coated the counter, leaving Shaw staggering back with his left arm hanging useless, genuine shock replacing his earlier arrogance.
“You little shit,” he panted, words cutting off in a hiss of pain as Nick wrenched the blade free with a wet, sucking sound, watching realization dawn on Shaw’s face—this wasn’t the terrified victim he once broke.
Two major arteries down.
He’s getting slower.
Luka positioned himself behind Shaw, ready to capitalize on any opening. When Shaw turned to track Nick’s movement, Luka struck—grabbing Shaw’s injured arm and wrenching it backward, tearing at the cleaver wound and sending fresh blood down Shaw’s side.
Nick didn’t hesitate. He brought the cleaver around in a brutal arc, the dull back edge slamming into Shaw’s neck with bone-crushing force.
Shaw staggered, his hands flying to his throat as blood poured between his fingers. Luka grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him to the ground, his head cracking against the floor.
Nick stumbled forward, dropping to his knees beside Shaw’s prone form. Shaw’s hands scrabbled at his opened neck, trying to staunch the bleeding, but Nick brought the cleaver down again. And again. And again.
Shaw’s fingers scattered across the tiles as the blade found them, then found his neck once more. Nick didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. The cleaver rose and fell mechanically until the final blow rang against tile, impact vibrations shooting up his arm.
Nick stopped, chest heaving.
He stared at Shaw’s head, separate from his body, eyes still wide with shock. Blood pooled around them both, and Nick realized his clothes were soaked through—cold and sticky against his skin. His face was wet, but whether it was blood or tears, he couldn’t tell.
He looked up at Luka, who was watching him with concerned eyes.
“Owen?” Nick asked.
Luka made the tossing away gesture Nick recognized from the hospital— discarded , finished, aborted .
Nick laughed. It started as a dark chuckle but built into something genuine, tired and sore and drained, but real. Relief flooding through him.
Luka sank to the floor beside him, one hand reaching out to stroke Nick’s cheek with infinite gentleness. Bloody tears tracked down the vampire’s face.
“Don’t cry,”Nick saidsoftly.“Not over me. I’m okay, it’s okay.”
Nick leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Luka’s as a sob escaped the vampire’s lips. Nick wrapped his arms around Luka’s shoulders, holding him close as peace washed over them both, sitting together in the carnage of their victory.
As Luka’s sobs continued, Nick found himself hummingthe familiar melody of Jupiter’s chorale, notes rising from his heart to his throat, his vocal chords weaving three words into a wordless song: I love you.