Total pages in book: 55
Estimated words: 50954 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 255(@200wpm)___ 204(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 50954 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 255(@200wpm)___ 204(@250wpm)___ 170(@300wpm)
Gideon’s shock did not last long. He lunged for Maddox and what ensued was something between a fight and a beating, a brutal conflict of two powerful beasts. They slammed into the walls, the floor, and even the ceiling. Gideon was barely bound by the laws of physics.
Maddox discovered that he was not as strong as Gideon, still. But he was not nearly as weak as he had imagined himself to be, either. Though he was taking damage, the thrill of discovering that he was no longer the little puppet toy Gideon could control at will was worth the pain. And there was a lot of pain. Limbs twisted, bones snapped, blood flowed. The once cold but elegant entrance to Maddox’s home was coated in sanguine essence, in splatters and arcs.
Gideon pulled him all the way up to the ceiling and pile drove him down to the floor in a brutal slam that knocked the wind out of Maddox and gave Gideon the opportunity to pin him. Maddox felt the embrace of his maker, light cut out by the curtain of dark hair that fell around him. In this moment there was only him and Gideon, Gideon and him. The two of them were the world.
The world was ending.
He felt Gideon’s teeth sinking into his throat, two sets of teeth biting deep into his flesh. It was a brutal pincer motion that tore through what would have been all the essential passages of life, blood and air severed. They were not what Gideon was trying to take. He wanted something more essential. He wanted Mads’ voice.
The fight was ended with that bite. Maddox lay on the floor, looking up at his maker. He saw his own flesh trapped between the fangs of the beast. As he stared, he saw Gideon swallow. He was being consumed alive, or at least a small part of him was.
Gideon did not seem to take much pleasure in the act. If anything, he was solemn. Maddox writhed, attempting to maintain something like dignity. It was almost impossible to be dignified in his current state. His legs were broken, and his throat was all but gone. He was like a wingless fly being tortured by a sadistic small boy. He felt truly powerless, just as Gideon intended.
“I wish you hadn’t made me do that,” Gideon said. “But for a little while at least you will not be able to speak works of impetuous disrespect. It was easier to discipline you when you were weaker. I am sure you think your strength now is a benefit. I tell you now, Madis, it is not. It only means I must be more brutal to subdue you. Meditate on obedience. It will save us both this pain.”
The disturbance had gotten Lorien out of bed. Though Maddox had just finished putting him in there, his leg had healed swiftly thanks to the maker’s blood running through his veins. He had thought, briefly, about intervening in the domestic dispute, but as soon as he saw Gideon tossing Maddox around like a ragdoll he knew there was nothing he could do. A battle between two supernatural ancients was no place for someone yet to see their first millennium.
Lorien knew what it was like to have his throat torn out, but he had never seen it from this perspective. Maddox had been made pitiful, like a half-squashed bug. Lorien felt rage and pity on his behalf.
Having humiliated Maddox, Gideon stormed off. Lorien didn’t know where. He knew he had a very small window in which to be very brave and very stupid. He knew he should go back to his bedroom and let the maker do as he pleased. He knew that would make him safe. Maddox would heal, after all. Gideon didn’t want to kill him. He just wanted to rule over him.
Maddox made a groaning sound. It was pitiful. And weak. And it made Lorien feel ashamed for reasons he couldn’t quite understand. He couldn’t leave him like that. He had to do something.
12
Maddox woke up. He expected to be in pain, and he was. He did not expect to be lying on a floral couch in a room that smelled of cheese crackers and boys’ feet. That was… strange.
The curtains were all drawn, a courtesy that was unnecessary for him, but not for the other vampires in the house. He felt at least two others. In his broken state, he could feel a lot more than he usually could. He had become beaten and tenderized, or sensitized.
He could not speak. Not a word. His throat was bandaged, and he knew that beneath the bandages there was a horrific gaping wound. The bandages were for everybody else’s benefit. Not his. He had become grotesque and unseemly. He had been humiliated.
“Hey, boss.”
Candy appeared in his field of vision. She wore a reassuring smile. He’d seen that smile directed at victims of crime before. Never at him. He did not like the way it felt to be pitied, though he knew she was doing her best.