41. Onyx
Onyx
Onyx started up a game, but he only stared at the loading screen instead of actually playing. Usually, he was thrilled to be alone, but today, his thoughts felt oppressive.
He’d fucked up the day before, and he’d fucked up something fierce.
He could’ve gone with Ambrose.
He could’ve killed Dominic.
He could’ve been free.
But he also could’ve ended up in a worse situation.
As far as he knew, Dominic didn’t lie to him, but if Dominic and Ambrose hated each other so vehemently, Dominic might not have known the other witch’s ulterior motives. It was possible Ambrose could’ve been sincere and that the rescue attempt had been real.
There was also the fact that Dominic’s sister was supposed to help him if Dominic died. That wasn’t really an option, though; Onyx would’ve been on the run, and he was sure enforcers would’ve killed him on the spot upon finding him. So that hadn’t really been an out. Not in that situation, anyway.
And if he’d tried but failed to kill Dominic…
He started the game, navigating to the last area he’d been exploring as his mind continued to race.
The fact was that Dominic was a psychopath. Onyx didn’t know much of anything about psychopaths, but he didn’t think Dominic was above twisting the truth to get to him. Did it twist his thinking into paranoia? What if Ambrose had been sincere, but Dominic had only assumed that he hadn’t been?
Maybe if he got a phone or something with the internet, he’d be able to look it up and find out more, to get leverage of some kind by understanding Dominic better…
But he didn’t know if Dominic would risk letting him get in touch with anyone by letting him have access to the internet.
Not that he’d even know where to start to try to talk to anyone, except maybe about games or something equally low stakes.
No, that wasn’t going to happen.
Of course, he could just ask Dominic, and he was sure the witch would be happy to tell him all about psychopaths because he wasn’t ashamed of what he was. Was he?
He died in the game, resurrected, and glared at the screen. He didn’t ever die. He needed to stop letting his thoughts wind around and around, but he couldn’t stop.
Dominic had tortured him and raped him so many fucking times, and Onyx had killed someone to protect both of them before allowing himself to be collared again.
Not willingly, exactly; he hadn’t bared his throat for Dominic to secure the collar around his neck.
But he had known what would happen when he got close like that.
Hadn’t he?
He should’ve killed Dominic.
He shouldn’t have taken the drug.
He should’ve fought.
He hadn’t.
Onyx curled up in the corner of the couch, closing his eyes. He didn’t sleep, didn’t want to sleep, but he didn’t know how to keep himself from crying. Pathetic. It was fucking pathetic, but all of the emotions were so much, and he didn’t know how to get through them with him in one piece.
He passed the morning drowsing and trying not to think, then throwing himself into the game to continue to try not to think.
When Shane dropped in to check up on him, he looked bleakly up at him but offered nothing.
Shane frowned slightly. “Gym?”
Surprise briefly flickered through him, but then he was on his feet. “Can we?” he asked warily. He didn’t know if Dominic would allow it, but he wanted it.
It was better than crying on the couch.
Shane shrugged. He glanced toward one of the corners of the room, then gave a quick wave in that direction. “We’re going to the gym."
The speaker on the intercom crackled to life. “Very well,” Dominic said.
Of course Dominic had the place so wired that it only took a gesture and a few words to get his attention. Which meant that Dominic had been paying attention to the rec room, and Onyx felt disgust and shame coil in his stomach when he realized that meant Dominic probably knew he’d been crying.
Fuck.
But this was a reason to go and get his frustrations out, to exhaust himself until he’d be able to sit beside Dominic on the fucking floor and not think about how thoroughly he’d allowed himself to be used the day before.
There was no lingering soreness to remind him of it, not with the vampire blood having been so fresh in his system, but that didn’t make it possible to ignore it.
Shane smirked at Onyx. “Let’s go.”
Onyx nodded, stepping out of the rec room and into the hallway. He breathed out slowly, then followed Shane to the gym. He hopped into the ring to stretch, staying quiet the entire time.
Shane stretched and warmed up while Onyx did. “Hand to hand or staves?”
“Staves,” Onyx said after a pause, getting back up to his feet and heading to grab the staves for them. He wasn’t angry, wasn’t driven by the need to get it out. He was all twisted up inside, but he couldn’t even blame Dominic, could he?
In the end, he’d consented.
It didn’t matter that he’d been coerced, that it had been inevitable. He’d still agreed to take the drug and let himself be lost to pleasure. He’d—
He needed distraction. Badly.
Shane nodded, taking his staff from Onyx. “Let's start with the pattern I taught you and then we can work on the katas.”
Back and forth, they traded the fixed set of strikes and blocks, with Shane correcting Onyx’s form and the ways that he was holding the staff at times until they were flowing through the motions, the staves clicking together.
There was a meditative quality to trading the patterns of blows, for all that it was the starting point of sparring.
“Good!” Shane said, breaking out of the form.
Onyx always drank in the lessons like a flower beneath the sun, and he put in all of the focus necessary to learn quickly.
It didn’t mean he was flawless, but he picked it up as quickly as he picked up physical training, and hearing Shane’s confirmation that he was doing well soothed something inside of him.
Today was no exception. If anything, it was more important than ever.
He wanted to be told he was doing well at things that he cared about — not sex, not lessons, not obedience, but magic and physical prowess — and he wondered what things would be like if he had Shane as an “owner” instead of Dominic.
He would never, ever voice that question to Dominic, who already wanted to kill Shane. That would cause Dominic to dismiss him, at best.
“Go through the first kata, and then we can start on a new one,” Shane directed.
Onyx nodded, going through the kata with careful motions, picking up speed as he went and gaining confidence while his body went through the increasingly familiar motions.
“Like that?” he asked. He was lightly sweating, slightly out of breath, but he was ready and eager to learn more.
Shane nodded. “Just like that,” he confirmed with a grin. “Okay, next kata.”
As he’d done before, Shane demonstrated the movements, going through each of the steps of the drill. Strike down, twist, block, counterstrike, block again, strike, strike, reverse, with each movement crisp and defined. “So we’re starting here with this strike, turn, block.”
Onyx’s eyes followed the motions intently, and he started to work them out in his mind as the patterns emerged.
By the time Shane had finished, he was itching to try it. He eagerly stepped into motion while Shane put his staff down in order to circle around Onyx and correct his form as he started to practice the movements.
Each correction was met with a nod of acknowledgment as he took them on board, and he went more slowly as it became clear he might be working with more enthusiasm than accuracy.
“I like this one,” he said at the end of it. It was a little more difficult than the first, but he thrived on the challenge.
Shane grinned. “This one is fun,” he agreed. “These in particular are all designed to flow from one straight into the next. There are five in total in this set. Want to see them all together?”
Onyx nodded eagerly, taking a step back to give Shane space. It was like poetry in motion, except Onyx liked this kind of poetry.
It wasn’t about tigers burning brightly, only being deadly.
Shane centered himself, holding the staff across his hands the way that he’d first shown Onyx how to begin. Then with a flurry of motion, he started in on the moves at full speed.
Strikes, blocks, turns and twists. As he flowed from one set of movements into the next, they got more complex.
Onyx could almost see the opponents that were being fought off with each set of motions going from strikes and blocks in one direction, twisting to block again before counter-attacking with a series of moves before twisting again to another.
Onyx’s eyes were bright with curiosity and interest as Shane flew through the katas, and he itched to take up his own staff and mimic the gestures.
But he’d be like a child trying to get through them without the same careful training that Shane was taking with each one.
Still, he was going to learn, and he was going to be that fluid.
And he’d show Dominic that this was the only sort of lesson he really needed, because surely even the Bancroft witch had to see the beauty of it.
Dominic.
No.
He wasn’t thinking about Dominic here and now. He was only thinking of the exhilaration and pride that came with tackling something difficult with enthusiasm.
As he neared the end of the set, Shane started to slow, until he was coming back to the center with a final series of motions that brought him back to his original starting point. Shane grinned at Onyx and gave him a wink. “How’s that?”
“Amazing.” Onyx brushed hair back behind his ear. He really did need to have his hair cut; it had gotten far too long. “And you’re as good with knives as you are at that and hand-to-hand?” He was thoroughly impressed.
Shane chuckled. “Yeah. And I know a few others, once we get through all of those, but those are the ones I’m best with. I started doing martial arts when I was pretty young and I was a fast learner, like you are.”