Garin gripped the cage and pressed his face between the bars. The woman shrunk away.
“You will hold your tongue this instant. How dare you address—”
He paused. Then, he tensed. The next thing Lilac knew, he had put himself between her and the wooden door behind them.
“What—”
“Don’t,” Garin growled through his teeth.
In a flurry of dust, the door flew open. When the cloud cleared, a man stood in the doorway of the entry passage, his dirty blond hair knotted at the nape of his neck. A distinct nose bridge and high cheekbones hinted at Eastern ancestry, and his eyes, exotic and deadly even from a distance, were a shade of deep garnet. As he took in the sight of Garin—and Lilac peeking out from behind him—his mouth, smeared with crusted mahogany, spread into a wide smile.
“Brother!”
Brother?
In no time, the newcomer crossed the length of the hall. He clapped a filthy hand on Garin’s shoulder. “And you brought a guest?”
Her subtle effort to remain hidden were futile; he stepped around to size Lilac up and down.
“A human guest,” he crooned. “New cattle?”
“Cattle?” Garin repeated, turning warily to face him.
“Indeed.” The vampire’s eyes bore into the back of Lilac’s head as he circled her, never lifting his gaze while he addressed Garin. “Things have changed in your absence.”
“Are these everyone’s thralls?” Garin asked, turning and motioning at the cages. “Why are they confined this way?”
“We haven’t had an individual servant system since the king’s law. These are the community thralls, so to speak.”
Garin’s face was almost unreadable. Then, he raised his brows in mild surprise, though the concerned glint in them remained. “Where did you get them?”
“I don’t know.” The vampire gave a rough laugh. “Brother, why the interrogation? They’re the broken, bruised, and battered of society who had no one. Nobody cares that they are missing.” He shrugged condescendingly. “Cattle, as I said.”
Without warning, he brushed Lilac’s hair back off her shoulders, a movement and touch so light she would not have noticed, had she not been hyperaware. She flinched and willed herself to still.
“And this one,” he purred. “Is this your contribution?”
“My own, Bastion,” Garin replied, never taking his eyes off the blond vampire. The territorial disposition in his own voice shocked even her.
“Your thrall, then.” Bastion nodded approvingly. “I was only curious, brother. No harm intended.” He clicked his tongue at the roof of his mouth, looking her up and down and then turning his attention to Garin. “I assume she wasn’t traveling with a beau? Or, perhaps a brother? I’m sure you’d have brought me a scrumptious apology gift.”
“Of course, I would’ve.”
“No matter.” Bastion winked. “You look good. Healthy. It’s been what, forty years?”
“Forty-two.”
“Yet you don’t look a day over twenty-five,” Bastion said, hands on hips.
“That is how vampirism works.” Garin’s voice held none of the airy lightness that Bastion’s did.
The blond vampire smiled ruefully while his brother stared him down.
Then, Bastion was gone—he moved faster than Garin ever had—and cold fingers with long nails suddenly gripped Lilac’s arm.
“Bastion,” Garin growled warningly.
Lilac inhaled sharply and shut her eyes as Bastion sniffed lightly at her now hair-free neck, his nose trailing along her shoulder. “Simply intoxicating.”
“Leave her,” Garin said with forced calm.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to share a drink? Like old times.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Bastion gave a nonchalant shrug, though his eyes held fast. He dragged a talon across Lilac’s skin, a trace of mockery lacing his voice. “You’re drinking again. From humans, I mean. You’ve never had an issue with the scotch.”
“I am.”
“Then I don’t see what the problem is.”
Garin grabbed her arm and tugged her firmly away from Bastion, who released her. For once, she was grateful to be manhandled by him. Her skin still crawled where Bastion had touched her.
“I said, she is my thrall,” Garin added. “Therefore, there will be no sharing of any kind.”
“Your eyes aren’t red, brother,” Bastion observed, suddenly grinning again. “Do not lie to me. You haven’t fed in at least a couple days.”
Regret flickered over Garin’s expression before settling into trite annoyance. “She’s getting used to being fed on constantly. I don’t want to waste her stamina. I don’t know, I like to… enjoy her.”
Through the fear, she was suddenly more aware of his grip on her arm. He was talking for Bastion’s benefit now, but the chilling implication of his words still shook her. His words back at the river’s edge—about being unlike Sinclair in that way—registered; perhaps he wasn’t that kind of monster, but was Bastion?
Unthinkingly, she inched closer to Garin. Her skin prickled beneath his fingers.
Bastion’s eyes lit. “Enjoy her, you say?” He glanced at Lilac, whose ears had reddened.
Swiftly, he hooked a sharp talon under her chin and forced her to look at him. His irises were mesmerizing, a shifting fluid of red bloodstones and rubies.
Garin’s grip on her arm unwittingly tightened. The feeling in her fingers started to go. “You dare attempt to entrance her,” he growled under his breath.
“Oh, trust me, brother.” Bastion’s breath was stale, the metallic aroma again invading Lilac’s nostrils. “I don’t need a bit of sanguine magic to tell if a human is lying to me. Look at me, girl. Has he recently fed from you? Look me at me!”
Lilac felt the stirrings of an irresistible pull from the vampire’s gaze. Her palms grew clammy, and the room around them began to grow dim. He was trying to get inside her head. She couldn’t give Garin away—despite everything, she certainly trusted him more than this monster.
Her lower lip began to quiver as she forced herself to revisit the memory of Sinclair on top of her. Her mind began to race, and her heart clamored as she pictured him ripping at her gown and grasping her skin, places she’d never been touched before.
When the monster pulled back to look at her, Garin’s face replaced Sinclair’s—
“Yes,” she choked, not recognizing the terror in her own voice. Hot tears clung to her lashes. “Yes sir, he has.”
Lilac felt Garin’s grip on her arm lessen and slide down, toward her hand. She wanted to slap the growing satisfaction clean off of Bastion’s face, yet she could not stop herself from trembling. She stole a look at Garin, who’s expression remained unreadable.
“My. The devil himself, finally returned.” Bastion heartily slapped Garin on the shoulder again. “And you’ve had a bit more than blood from the wench, haven’t you?”
Garin rolled his eyes. “Please. At least try to be decent.”
“I expected no less. And you didn’t even entrance her to forget, either… How wicked,” he said, brows arching in surprise.