Chapter Two
“You’re sure he came in here?”
“Yes.” Blaine rose onto his toes, trying to look over the crowd of men and spot one head of short black hair among the masses.
It shouldn’t have been so difficult to pick their human out of the crowd.
Ever since they’d managed to drag their human’s—to drag Marrick’s—location out of the man who’d first arranged for him to be thrown to them, they’d both become very good at tracking Marrick through tightly packed crowds of humans.
Blaine had definitely seen him disappear into this club.
He had no doubt about that, and he was just as certain that he hated the fact that Marrick was within twenty miles of the place.
Turning around, Blaine searched through the shadows on the other side of the room.
Their human had been out of their sight for far too long.
It wasn’t right for him to be alone in the stifling hot darkness. There were too many other men there, and the scent of sex hanging in the air was far too strong. And Marrick had come there looking for another man to have sex with—that was the most wrong part of it all.
Blaine bit back a snarl as he turned to scan another part of the room.
Before he’d moved two steps, he collided with a human heading in the opposite direction.
The man seemed about to say something when he registered the sound of Blaine’s snarl.
Rapidly reconsidering his options, the man took hasty refuge in silence, twisted away and hurried through an archway on the far side of the room.
It was as likely a route for Marrick to have taken as any other. Blaine headed through the arched doorway, too. This room was slightly less crowded. It was possible to get a better impression of the men in there.
Those who wore clothes wore leather. Those who weren’t wearing clothes were decorated with strips of leather made into harnesses and restraints. Some of the cuffs and blindfolds looked a little like those the sacrifices who came to their den wore.
Blaine frowned. Humans being thrown to lions made sense.
That was the way things were supposed to be.
It was traditional. It was right. But, humans being thrown to other humans, that was wrong.
Humans weren’t lions—they wouldn’t know how to treat the other men’s sacrifices properly.
They wouldn’t have a pride on hand to make sure no one got hurt.
Suddenly, Luther’s hand landed on Blaine’s shoulder. His claws cut cleanly through Blaine jacket and scraped against his skin. Quickly tracking Luther’s gaze, Blaine saw the huge television screen, just visible through another doorway.
The screen showed a man bound to a diagonal cross. It showed Marrick bound to a diagonal cross.
Their pet was clearly displayed on the screen, thick black cuffs around his wrists and ankles. And another man was there, too, tightening one of the buckles around Marrick’s wrists, trapping Marrick a little more firmly under a stranger’s control. Blaine strode forward, Luther hot on his heels.
A loud crack filled the air just as they entered this new room.
On the screen, a whip landed against Marrick’s back, painting a pale red line of pain against his skin.
Frantic glances in every direction showed that the image of their pet might be in this room, but the man himself was nowhere in sight.
“Where is that?” Luther demanded, pointing at the screen.
There were men all around them, stretched out on low sofas, touching each other, kissing each other as they watched the screen, as if it was okay for the man on there to hurt Marrick however he pleased, as if they’d actually enjoy watching it. None of them answered Luther.
Grabbing the nearest man’s arm, Blaine pulled him out of his seat. “Where?” The word was barely more than a snarl.
The guy eyes opened very wide as he pointed through yet another set of double doors.
Luther and Blaine pushed the doors open, just as the whip snapped against Marrick’s skin for a third time. There. Their pet was on the far side of the room, on a stage. A camera was set up a few yards away from him, focused directly on his back.
Another, older human stood to Marrick’s left, a whip in his hand. He raised it again. As Blaine watched, frozen in horror, the whip cracked across Marrick’s back, the sound even more sickening than before.
Marrick’s head dropped back as his whole body tensed.
Even on the other side of the room, Blaine heard his gasp.
Marrick’s hands formed into fists above his cuffs, and the tiny movement snapped Blaine back into the real world.
He marched across the room, forcing himself to keep his claws in check, knowing that he’d need his hands in their human shape to be able to undo the buckles that trapped Marrick against the cross.
Luther, however, had no need for such concerns.
He was free to launch himself onto the stage in a blurring half-shifted mix of lion and human.
The man holding the whip hit the wall as Luther pounced on him.
The impact knocked the length of braided leather out of his hand, and the world became a much better place.
“What the—?”
Luther seamlessly reverted to his entirely human form as he pinned the man to the wall. His snarl echoed around the room when the man tried to push him away. It wasn’t the friendly sort of snarl that meant that the normally easy-going Luther was grumbling about not getting his own way.
It was the kind of sound that meant Luther might actually be on the verge of forgetting that lions weren’t allowed to show the humans who was the top of the local food chain whenever they felt like it. Blaine could sympathise.
“What’s going—?” Marrick began.
“You’re safe now,” Blaine said, settling his hand gently on the small of Marrick’s back, well below where the whip had struck.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Marrick looked over his shoulder, toward the man who’d been hurting him. “Where’s Huntley?”
“We’re taking care of him,” Blaine reassured him.
The sound of scuffling floated across the room, but Blaine took little notice of it.
Luther was more than capable of dealing with one human, any human, on his own.
Blaine had more important concerns, like the fear flooding Marrick’s scent.
As Blaine stood close behind him, Marrick’s fear overpowered all the scents of leather and sex that filled the rest of club.
Lifting his hand, Blaine gently traced his fingertips across the red lines that decorated Marrick’s skin.
There were almost like long scratches. Blaine’s hackles rose.
Not just at any man hurting their pet, but at someone actually leaving his mark on him, trying to claim him—as if the man had somehow thought that Marrick could ever belong to anyone except Blaine and Luther.
Marrick met Blaine’s eyes over his shoulder. Fear lurked in every corner of his expression, for all he was trying to hide it. Blaine stroked his fingertips down Marrick’s cheek. He should never look scared—he should never need to be scared.
“You’re safe now, pet.”
Marrick hesitated for a moment, as if he didn’t really believe that was true. “Okay…” His voice was slightly off, almost as if he was humouring him.
Blaine tilted his head slightly to one side as he tried to work that out.
“You know what would make me feel really safe?” Marrick said after a few seconds.
Blaine nodded encouragingly and waited to be told.
“You untying me.”
Blaine looked to the cuffs. Yes. He should have thought about that before. They weren’t like the cuffs he’d worn with the lions—they obviously meant something different here—something bad. They should definitely be removed
He reached for the first buckle.
“Marrick?”
Blaine glanced over his shoulder. Several men stood in the doorway. None of them looked happy. Anger poured off them, clouding the entire room with their scent. Turning to face them, Blaine placed himself firmly between them and Marrick.
A glance at Luther showed that his friend had also half turned to face them. The man he had pinned to the wall seemed to sense that Luther’s attention was split, and he made a hurried bid for freedom, but Luther easily held him in place.
“Let him go.”
Blaine looked across to the group of men again.
One of them wore a red band around his arm with the letters DM emblazoned across it.
The others appeared to be waiting to see what he’d do, just as the lions in the pride watched Arslan.
It seemed safe to assume that he was some kind of leader within the group.
Blaine glanced across at Luther. He shrugged slightly. They’d get in trouble with Arslan if they hurt him too badly. Returning the man to his pride was their only real option. Pulling the man away from the wall, Luther spun him around and pushed him toward the group.
“Marrick?” the possible-leader asked again.
“It’s fine,” Marrick said. “I’m fine. And he’s untying me. Right?”
Blaine looked over his shoulder at their pet.
“Right?” Marrick repeated, his voice just a little bit more strained.
Blaine couldn’t blame their human for being scared of being bound before so many strangers.
He undid the cuff wrapped around Marrick’s right wrist, never completely taking his attention away from crowd in the doorway.
Another cuff, then those around his ankles, until the last one fell away from Marrick’s skin.
Marrick slowly turned away from the diagonal cross. For the first time, Blaine was able to look at their pet properly face to face.
“That’s good, Marrick,” one of the men on the other side of the room said. “Come here now.”
Blaine put his hand in the centre of Marrick’s chest and nudged him gently back when he would have tried to step around him.