One

It was over in moments.

“Harry!” 

I turned as my brother’s form was covered by a tide of men in all-black military style uniforms.  “What the hell?” 

We were in the parking lot at Mac’s, and it was well past midnight.  Thomas’ aircraft carrier of a car was parked in the far corner, well away from the building.  I was beginning to suspect he didn’t trust his vehicles around the structures I occupied.  Stars and stones, it wasn’t like every building I entered was going to collapse or burst into flames. 

Well.  Yes.  I know the effect I tend to have on buildings.  What I meant is, the odds have to be astronomical that a collapsing wall…err, flaming bits of…to the same person’s vehicle…. oh, all right, I concede the point. 

In any event, being in a parking lot, a rather large space - empty of cars at this time of night, you’d think it would be pretty difficult to ambush someone.  I will admit to having had one too many of Mac’s dark ales after our meeting with Justine.  But come on.  I’m no slouch at noticing happenings around me.  Hello.  Detective.  I also happened to have a vampire with me.  Super senses and all that.  However, regardless of those obvious assets, apparently it can still happen.  One second we were alone, the next, well.

I ran toward the struggling mass, hearing a man grunt in pain as he collapsed.  I caught a glimpse of Thomas, silently focused and struggling against them.  He was drawing on his demon’s strength; his skin was too pale and the glint of his eyes was more silver than gray.  My ale befuddled mind strained to make sense of this.  What was going on here?  I got no whiff of supernatural here.  These were mortal men.  I hadn’t pissed off anyone recently, although those I tended to upset generally had long memories.  In fact, the attackers’ clothing was disturbingly familiar, but I couldn’t place it.  As I took in the details, I reached the group.  I didn’t dare use magic.  Besides the whole Laws of Magic – no killing vanilla mortals - conundrum, everyone was too close, I felt too impaired; I might hit Thomas. 

I’d have to go old school.  Fortunately, my blasting rod does double duty as a club.  The first man went down easily, crumpling in a heap; his headache was going to have my hangover beat in the morning.  Score one for Team Dresden!  I paused for a second, expecting a reaction from the others.  Apparently I didn’t merit the attention Thomas was getting; even after I dropped a guy, no one turned to face me. 

Rude. 

Screw it.  You get a plus five to damage when you attack an enemy from behind.  The second guy went down, and I turned to the third.  Finally recognizing me as a threat, the man faced me, putting his back towards the group.  That was telling; that tactic kept me from really using my more powerful magic.  It dawned then that I was more impaired than I thought.  Raising my arm to take a swing at thug number three, I caught a glint of light on metal.  My rings.  Of course.  Twisting my wrist, I shifted my hold on the blasting rod and released the kinetic energy stored in the first ring on my index finger.  That was all it took.  The directed blast of force threw the man facing me into the backs of the other men and he didn’t get up again.

The attackers were mainly focused on my brother, and whoever got close enough to engage him regretted it.  It was ludicrous, really.  Two dozen against him and they weren’t making much headway.  But they kept him busy, moving in concert; they were well trained. Working my way in, using my kinetic rings and brute force, I began to hope we’d make it out of this surreal confrontation.  The attackers fought in grim silence and even in the midst of it I could hear cars going by on the distant expressway.  Obviously they didn’t want to draw a lot of attention. 

That was probably why I was able to hear the muted thuuk of a silenced weapon, right before I felt something whiz by my face, throwing me into near panic. 

My reactions were definitely slower than normal, and slowing by the moment.  I raised my shield bracelet, focusing my will.  Or, I tried to focus my will, tried to shove energy into the enchanted charms.  It wasn’t working.  I realized it was more than alcohol slowing me down.  I shook my head to clear it.  The shield sputtered and died, blue sparks hissing on the gravel.  I didn’t hear the second discharge of the gun.  I felt it, though, when a sharp pain blossomed below my collarbone and a tiny feathered dart appeared there. 

“Oh.” 

The ground rocked wildly.  The parking lot spun around me and the sounds of the scuffle disappeared as I collapsed.  I saw Thomas’ distraught expression, eerie with chrome colored eyes, but my stomach still lurched to see it.  Struggling against the mass of goons, he threw off several of them but was unable to get clear.  I think he called my name again, but I wasn’t sure.  My head was getting fuzzier, but my confusion clamored for attention.  What was going on?  Why haven’t they just tranq’d him too?  It almost looked like they were only trying to slow him down. 

I heard the crunch of tires on gravel.  The world was darkening around the edges.  I could just see the door of the sleek car that drove up.  It opened.  A pair of blood red heels were followed by an elegantly shaped, obviously gorgeous set of legs.  Then a voice, low and sultry.  But I couldn’t make out the words.

The world faded to gray, and then black.

Two

I woke up in throbbing pain, with a hangover of epic proportions.  I didn’t open my eyes for a moment, letting myself adjust to consciousness and trying to push the headache and nausea back to something bearable.  Slowly they began to fade. 

Memories flickered across the surface of my mind.  What had happened before I’d passed out.  Or rather, been knocked out.  I became aware that my hands were bound above my head.  My clothing had been changed and the comforting weight of my shield bracelet, rings and my mother’s amulet were gone.  Even more horrifyingly, the unfamiliar feel of silk whispered across my skin; the not so subtle smell of incense hung in the air.  My eyes snapped open.

“Harry!  Oh thank the stars.”  Justine’s voice, lowered and anxious, came from a dimly lit corner of the room.  While calmly noting her location, I quietly panicked over mine.  The room was large, nearly empty of furniture and had no observable windows.  Bits of ornate scrollwork inlaid into the furniture and walls were the only artistic touches.  I was on a bed.  A big, luxurious, decadent bed.  Soft looking pillows lined the outskirts of it, and on the posts surrounding it, semi-translucent fabric draped elegantly.  For looks, obviously.  Privacy? 

Uh, no. 

There’s no other way to say it.  I was tied to a sex bed sunken into the floor.  And when I say big, I don’t mean California king size big.  No.  This was an MMSOB.  (Massively Multiplayer Sex Orgy Bed).  Aka - a sex pit; the size of my living room.  The incense floating lazily was kind of a not-so-subtle giveaway about the sex thing.  That’s what some people use to set the mood, I hear.  I didn’t just throw that in there for the shock factor.  The space was lit by candles.  The colors were all in rich tones; the room blatantly meant to be indulgent, sensual.  But, hey.  At least they weren’t playing a “chicka, wow-wowww” beat in the background.  And no, I don’t watch a lot of porn.  It so happens that I had to pose as a “production assistant” on an adult film during an investigation, and well, of course you have to do research for any job.  It was research.

I had no doubt about the purpose of the room, but…it wasn’t just my keen investigative observational skill that helped me draw the conclusions here.  My vision was still vaguely fuzzy and my thoughts foggy.  It was now painfully obvious that I’d been drugged, before the scuffle and again with the dart.

No.  I recognized the room.  I was in a feeding pen.  Feeding boudoir.  Whatever. 

At Château Raith.

Justine’s voice called out again, more tentatively, “Harry?  Harry, are you alright?”

“Yes.”  I cleared my throat.  “Yes.  I’m okay, Justine.”  I tried to inject some reassurance there, but failed miserably.  Sarcasm was generally my childish way of avoiding curling terror, but this was Justine…so I tried to keep it out of my voice.  “I’ve been drugged and tied up in a sex bed of death, but I’m okay.”  I said I tried, I didn’t say I succeeded.  My voice sounded strange in my ears.  Lurching and slow.  Wow, what had they slipped me? 

Fortunately, my irony was lost on her.  “Can you get out?  Please, Harry!  You have to hurry.  She has Thomas.”  That didn’t sound good.  Not at all.  But judging by my currently bound status, I could tell this evening wasn’t going to end well.  Justine’s words continued, spilling out in a terrified rush.  “She found out.  I-I don’t know how.  But she was furious and she’s going to kill him.  She’s going to kill you.  And…I d-don’t know what she’ll do to me.”  The fear in her voice grew with each statement.  The speed, volume and pitch also grew in equal parts, until it shook loose the pounding in my head.  The staccato of it scrambling what was left of my thoughts.

“Whoa..whoa, Justine.  Wait….I…I can’t think.  Slow down.”  I heaved a breath and tried to steady my head, center myself.  Was marginally successful.  I needed more information.  “What are you talking about?”

“The meeting.  She must have had me followed.”  There were tears in her voice now.  “She was in my rooms when I returned.  By that time, she knew that I’ve been feeding you information about White Court business.”  Justine’s voice broke down.  The soft sobs reached my ears a moment later.

A little flutter had begun in my stomach when she’d started talking.  By the time she stopped, my blood had turned to ice.  Oh, crap.  This is Bad.

“Shh, Justine.  It’ll be okay.”  Maybe.  My hands were cuffed.  That was going to make things difficult.  Difficult, but not impossible, though being so foggy-headed was definitely not going to help. 

Closing my eyes, I cleared my mind as much as humanly possible.  I began to focus my will, to pull in the energy I needed….and instantly, cold piercing agony spread down my arms, shattering my concentration.  My mind exploded and I bit down on a ragged scream.  Instinctively trying to get away from the pain, I jerked at my arms and the shackles clattered roughly.  I could feel blood begin to run down my forearms, and I knew.  My eyes traveled up to the shackles binding my arms.  They weren’t cuffs.  Or shackles.  They were manacles.  Thorn manacles.  Faerie made specifically to bind and torture wizards.  Their only weakness was iron.  Or the key that worked the lock.  I doubted I’d find either under the cushions around me.  Apparently these were the next model up – they didn’t give any warning of their true nature until it was too late.  But considerately, they’d been lined with velvet.  Velvet that now had holes in it, but velvet nonetheless.  Lovely.  At least they didn’t chafe.

“Harry?” 

She’d heard.  Probably seen it, too.  My breathing was coming in harsh gasps and my arms trembled with the aftershock of my nasty surprise.  As I dealt with the pain, I ground out as gently as I could, “Just hang tight, Justine.  I’m working on it.”  Vaguely, I heard her shift in her chair, crying more earnestly now. 

This night just gets better and better.

Time passed.  I’m not sure how long.  My vision started to clear, gradually.  The fog, however, wouldn’t lift more than a fraction.  It was irritating and frustrating.  My mind kept circling.  The fight, Justine, Thomas.  Where was Thomas?  The burn in my wrists had faded to a constant throbbing ache.  Damn but I hated the manacles and their creators with a passion.  Lash had taught me a trick to get me out of these particular torture implements, but my head had been much clearer then and still it had been incredibly difficult (and painful as hell).  More importantly, she’d “loaned” me the muscle memories to do it.  With her gone, I doubted I could manage the movements necessary to free myself.

There were times I missed being possessed by a fallen angel intent on enslaving my soul.

My shoulders were aching from having my arms above my head for so long.  Every time I moved to ease the pressure on them, the damn kimono shifted.  I barely had any modesty left at this point.  Worse than the indignity was the memory of the walk to the Deeps.  Walking past rows of kine, dressed in the same clothing, heads bowed, submissively waiting to be taken by the vamps attending.  Like cows. 

No.

There had to be a way out.

The door opened. 

Five guys, dragging Thomas entered.  His arms were bound behind his back, and he was hooded.  My brother’s gait was unsteady, and my heart skipped in my chest.  What had they done to him?  Carelessly, they pushed him forward, and he stumbled.  Violently yanking off the hood, the apparent leader of the group nodded to one of the men, who stepped around Thomas.  It was then that I saw he’d been gagged, too.  Bastards.  As if afraid he’d bite, the appointed goon cautiously removed the offending restraint, avoiding the vampire’s gaze.  I had the distinct impression that Thomas knew the man - and said goon was acutely aware that there’d be hell to pay if the two met again.  The group exited quickly.  The door shut solidly and I heard a latch click.  Then another.  One more.  Hunh.  It was like they didn’t trust us, or something.

“Thomas?”  It was my turn to be uncertain.  I didn’t know if this was Thomas, or…his demon.  I couldn’t see his eyes; they were in shadow.

“Yeah.”  He was breathing slowly, with effort.  I knew it as a sign that he was fighting for control. 

“Are you…okay?”

A shaky laugh.  “Just peachy.”

He looked up then, eyes flicking up and away. But I exhaled, relieved. His eyes were gray. Slightly unfocused, as though drugged. But gray. On seeing me, they widened. He didn't laugh at the ridiculous kimono. He wouldn't have. He knew all too well what it meant. His expression smoothed over, all emotion disappearing. I recognized that look. He was afraid. “Harry?  Have you…”

“No, man.  I’m all right….so far.”  I saw his stance relax, life returning to his features.  I took a deep breath.  “Justine has been worried for you.” 

His gaze snapped up, going immediately to where she was sitting.  It was apparent he’d been aware on some level that she was in the room with us, but it hadn’t permeated until I said her name.  Whatever they’d slipped us was affecting him too.  Quickly, but with some effort, he stood up.  He walked over and knelt by her.  “Are you okay?”

Tremulously, she nodded with a relieved smile.  Justine’s face was blotchy from crying, strands of her hair dried with tears to her cheeks.  She probably would have been grateful for a tissue.  She was still stunningly beautiful.  It was obvious Thomas wanted to hold her.  Touch her and comfort her.  But cruelly, she’d been dressed in the scantiest of clothing.  Skimpy clothing was nothing unusual for the white court, but this was barely a bra and panties.  Beyond the fact that I had seen her a few short hours ago, I knew her clothing had been changed for her, just as mine had.  This was not meant to demean Justine – wearing clothing had never really been a hang up for her.  No.  This was meant to hurt Thomas.  Whenever she was in Thomas’ presence, Justine dressed in just under full body armor, complete with her hair up and elbow length gloves (and still managed to look hotter than ninety-nine percent of the population).  Our captors knew that with nothing between them, they couldn’t touch each other.  Anything mortal touched by true love was poison to him - it was to all White Court vampires.  Justine was in love with Thomas, and he was in love with her.  For my brother it was the ultimate irony, and it was painful to witness, every time. 

I turned my gaze away, trying to give them some modicum of privacy.  I glanced back when I heard her ask, “Do you…do you know what she’s going to do to us?”

I saw the pain in his expression when he answered.  The days when he could protect her, keep her free of the inner workings of the White Court, were long over.  This situation was the result of that, and he knew that tonight it might mean her death.  “No.”  Thomas shook his head.  “No, I….”

“Nothing.”  I said, “She’s going to do nothing, Justine.  We’re going to get out of here.”  The words were firm.  The thought that followed wasn’t so sure.  I hope.  Thinking about Thomas and Justine’s relationship had brought a chilling realization.  Since I was currently sans girlfriend, my last relationship having been with Captain Luccio (Ana…and sadly true love had never had a chance to bloom there), I wasn’t protected.  Not even a little.  I shoved the thought away and ignored the goose bumps that came with it.  Catching Thomas’ gaze, I gestured with my wrists.  “Do you have enough left in you to get me out of these?”

He frowned.  “Are you bleeding?  What in hell’s bloody bells..?”

“Remember Madrigal?”  My mouth twisted.  “Thorn manacles.  I guess he and Lara shop at the same place.”  They clinked as I shifted.  “If I try to focus my will, they get happy on me.”

Swearing, he muttered under his breath, eyeing the metal bindings.  “If I were stronger, I’d try to break them, but I would probably break your wrists.”

“Right.  Broken wrists, bad.”  I sighed.  “It was a long shot, anyway.  I don’t know if you could break them even at full strength.  They’re faerie made, I’ve heard iron is about their only weakness.”  He grunted.  I looked around the room.  “I don’t see any tools or pipes in here.” 

His dazed eyes followed mine around the room, taking in the decadent fabrics and sparse elegant accents.  “Uh…no.” 

I threw a glance at the door.  Thomas saw my look.  “What about the door?  Do you think…?”

He was already shaking his head.  “I’m tapped, bro.  They worked me over - kept me drawing from my reserves…” Self-recrimination colored his tone.  “They knew what they were doing.  I fell for it.”  His voice cracked, showing just how close to the surface his emotions were.  The muscles in his jaw clenched as he closed his eyes again. 

He bowed his head, fighting for control.  I let him.  I could see a bruise, dark and creeping up his neckline from below the collar of his jacket.  I frowned.  That should have healed by now.  The looks from the men who’d brought him in suddenly made more sense.  I felt my blood heat.  They must have continued to work him over after the parking lot; his reserves should have taken care of any injuries gained early in the fight.  He wasn’t joking; he was tapped out. 

He was Starving. 

A few minutes later, he opened his eyes and gave me a curt nod.

I sighed and continued where we’d left off.  “They drugged us, Thomas.  I’m still having trouble concentrating.”  He grunted, acknowledging.  “It must have happened at Mac’s.”  I frowned.  “We cleared the tab before that last round.  I don’t remember if I saw him before we left.  I hope he’s okay.”

“Yeah.”  My brother heaved a breath.  “Yeah, I….”  His head turned towards the door, and I heard the footsteps a breath later.  Then locks, turning.

Click.  Click.  Click.

Showtime.

Three

Lara Raith stepped into the room.  She took in the tableau.  Justine, barely covered.  Thomas kneeling beside her, not quite touching her, hands tied behind his back.  Me.  In a kimono.  That had slipped.

She laughed delightedly.  “Ah, here we are.”  Her eyes traveled over us.  “My trusted secretary.  My beloved brother.  And.  Harry Dresden.  Wizard.  Honored White Council member.”

My anger bubbled to the surface, and I almost reached for my power.

Almost.

She caught the slight angry motion and smiled, satisfied.  My mouth moved before my brain kicked in to stop it.  “Hey, Lara, thanks for the accommodations.  You really know how to make a guest feel at home.  We’re low on soda and chips.  Can you get someone in here?”

She smiled like a cat, confident and relaxed.  “Oh, my dear Harry.  You are not a guest.  Not tonight.”  I tried not to let the chill I felt at her words show.

The information we’d gotten through Justine about the vampire courts had saved people’s lives, but I knew the White Court, and more importantly, their current ruler…wouldn’t see it that way.  I’d really hoped she wouldn’t find out.  The fury raging behind Lara Raith’s eyes told the story.   She had us.  She knew it.  There would be no bluffing here.  I thought about Thomas, tapped out and without the strength to heal a relatively minor injury – and me, shackled.  I couldn’t light a candle with magic right now.  And I was the one who’d done this.  I’d involved Justine and Thomas.  They were paying for it already.  Things were going rapidly from very bad, to catastrophically bad. 

Ayep.  A day in the life of Harry Dresden.  

Reaching back, Lara rapped on the door, two beats.  A bare second later, the locks slid home.  A cold feeling gripped me in the pit of my stomach and spread.  “Umm, Lara….aren’t you being a little heavy handed?  The White Court won’t…..”

Her voice, silky and simmering laid over mine. “….won’t be involved in this, Mr. Dresden. 

Thomas stood up.  “Lara,” he began.  “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but someone’s messing with you.”  If I didn’t know him so well, I might not have caught the tremor in his voice. 

His sister obviously didn’t believe him and didn’t say a word.  As I watched, her eyes lightened to silver.  A pressure began to build in the room as she stepped forward, closing the distance between her and her younger brother.  I saw Thomas take a half step back, turning his face to one side, eyes down.  I frowned at the submissive gesture.  “Thomas,” she said, smiling coldly.  “Come here.”  I felt the dark seductive power in those words.  My brother didn’t budge, and I silently cheered.  Then Lara’s smile widened and the pressure in the room increased.  Tenfold.  It washed over all of us; had an effect on all of us.

I’ve been subject to the temptations of the White Court before, but not like this.  In comparison, what I’d been exposed to was like the gentle warmth of a spring day.  Alluring, desirable and difficult as hell to resist.  But this.  It was an assault.  It was the heat of the desert at its height, oppressive, beating you down.  It was not meant to seduce but to take; there was no subtlety or softness to it.  It was a force that stole your breath and disarmed you utterly.  I was only getting the spill over.  Thomas was its focal point.

Thomas tried.  I saw his body shake as he resisted her pull.  I’ve been told his demon is stronger than the other White Court vampires.  I’ve seen it take hold of him when he was at his weakest and it was truly frightening (thankfully, my brother losing control was a rare thing).  He was strong, and better than I at resisting temptation.  But he’d been drugged, and beaten.  He’d been deliberately baited to use his reserves.  He’d already acknowledged to me that he was out of steam. 

He tried.  But I knew he was lost.  Lara was a heavyweight at full strength.  Her skin flickered silver.  I could feel her pull at me, clawing her way in, pushing past any barrier.  I watched my brother’s eyes quickly lighten, the demon coming to the fore.  Moments passed as the two vampires exerted their will on each other, and I saw that Lara’s eyes had turned to chrome.

Unconsciously, I pulled at the restraints, trying to answer Lara’s call.  But my heart sank when I heard Thomas exhale shakily, when I saw the color of his eyes fading to gray.  He stepped forward, unwillingly, falteringly, distress apparent in every movement, every muscle. 

I caught Justine’s eyes.  She was as deeply in Lara’s psychic storm as I.  I could see her straining against the ropes that tied her, her chest heaving.  Justine had been a true thrall of the White Court and enslaved to Thomas for years before their love protected her.  I realized that having been addicted for so long, she must be much more susceptible to the pull of Lara’s call than either Thomas or I. 

My brother stopped in front of Lara.  The woman’s calculating eyes moved around the room, stopping at Justine and then me.  She laid her hands on him; he flinched.  Running her fingers down his chest, over the faint hint of muscles showing through the shirt he was wearing, she smiled, appreciating.  Jaw clenched, he exhaled through his nose, briefly closed his eyes.  Undeterred, Lara smoothed her arms around and over his hips, and gripping the waistband of his jeans, used it to pull him tight against her.  He was breathing hard, still fighting.  But the more she touched him, the longer her power poured over him, the more I saw the rebellion in his eyes fading.  Sinuously molding herself against his body, she put her arms around his neck.  And pulled his face down to hers. 

I heard the quiet plea slip from him a moment before her mouth took his.  “Don’t do this.”  Lara made a sound, like a purr, deep in her throat, and Thomas’ eyes widened.  I felt my heart lurch as I realized she was feeding on him.  Lara inhaled slowly, pressing her chest against him.  Thomas made a sound like a breath, a moan.  I could see the strain in the muscles of his throat and hear his tortured breathing as she deepened, extended, the kiss.  When she pulled away, his face tipped forward as he struggled to recover, still trying to escape the hold of her power.   

The manacles clattered as I struggled.  Gods, please don’t let this happen.

“Little brother.”  She smiled at him.  “I will do as I please.  You see, you, Harry and Justine will be my cat’s paws tonight.  Each serving to take my revenge on the other.”  Her voice softened, became sinister.  Her fingers twined in his hair and fisted, pulling his head back.  Her eyes burned as she hissed, “You’ve fucked with me for the last time.”  Her next words were for both of us.  “This is beyond the Court now…this is family business.”  I felt the weight of her power increase, the terrible seduction entwining and choking out all other thought.

Have I ever mentioned that family life in the White Court is very different than in the mortal world?  Have you ever thought about how families share with one another?  Easy stuff.  Regular stuff.  Like toys, drinks…meals?  Well, to the White Court, sex is food.  Familial relationship boundaries just aren’t, for them. 

Thomas once mentioned how his father used to manipulate all of his children, particularly the females.  My brother hadn’t gotten into detail, but it was apparent the old White King had dominated and enslaved nearly all of them through sex.  That, ‘it was how all disputes within the house were typically handled.’  He’d skirted the issue with me by saying his father’s tastes didn’t ‘run that way’ - that’s why all of his brothers tended to die young.  He’d been trying to get Thomas killed for years.  He was guarded, my older brother.  I knew there was more to the story…but he didn’t want to say, so I didn’t ask.  Regardless, with that kind of upbringing, you had to wonder how it would affect a person.  Err, incubus. 

So…yeah.  Boundaries?  Not so much.

Lara’s power shimmered in the air and I felt it’s influence in my thoughts.  My brother’s face was turned towards me, away from the succubus who held him.  My chest tightened when I saw his eyes.  His pupils were fully dilated - he didn’t seem to be aware of what was happening to him.  Lara tugged at the leather of his jacket, pulling it open.  Thomas was wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing at the meeting.  Under the leather, big bold lettering stood out.  The tightly fitting Army green t-shirt had a white medical looking cross on the front.  Underneath it were the words, ‘Orgasm Donor’.  Lara’s eyes slitted, amused.  “How…fitting.” 

The succubus ran her hands under his jacket, pushing it off his shoulders.  The leather cinched his arms more tightly behind him as she eased him towards the bed.  And me.  It didn’t take long to have him backed up against the edge of the sunken bed.  She turned him to face me, treating me to the sight of my brother fully ensnared.  Black hair fell around his face, his gray eyes unfocused and skin flushed lightly with color.  He blinked slowly, his breath coming in little gasps. 

It didn't help me, seeing him like that. I was struggling to control my reaction to the energy in the room, but Lara wasn't discriminating. Some part of me was still free - and desperately wished for a hacksaw. Made of iron. With the manacles binding me, I couldn't create a magical shield. Between Lara's psychic storm and the drugs fogging my thoughts, I couldn't create even a basic mental shield. So Lara's power washed over me in waves, unchecked. My heart was pounding and I could feel the heat rising in my skin. I was aching, half hard and wanting.

Lara was obviously aware that her pale-skinned victim wasn't fighting her anymore. Her eyes eased back from chrome to silver, her body shedding its supernatural glow. She pressed herself up against his back and ran her hands through his dark hair, down his neck, over his shoulders. Thomas was still facing me, his arms pinned behind him, breathing raggedly. Unsteadily he licked his lips, another soft sound of protest escaping. Lara's hands reached his waist, her hands snaking under his shirt. He shuddered and closed his eyes.

 “Lara, you bitch.”  She looked up at my snarled words.  I ignored the breathless quality to my voice.  “Haven’t you done enough?  Leave…him…alone.”  I couldn’t back the threat in my tone - and she knew it.  Her lips twisted.  She let go of my brother, ignoring it as he stumbled to his knees.  Moving more quickly than I could follow, she was suddenly in front of me; I couldn’t help the startled flinch.  Expression cruel, she very slowly ran her hands over my chest.  It was electric, that touch; every single nerve lit up and my cock was suddenly, painfully hard.  My mouth opened on a gasp.  “Oh…gods.”  My hips jerked unconsciously, the pleasure burning through me intensified to the point of pain.  I moaned, feeling the pull in my shoulders from my restrained arms as I tried to move closer - tried to press up against her.  The vampire laughed heartlessly and kissed me. 

This was not the first time I’d been kissed by Lara Raith.  The first time, under attack and trapped, I’d needed emotion to fuel a spell and save our lives - it had worked.  Then, it was voluntary; I had made the choice.  I’d been in control of myself.  And after that, I was profoundly aware that I could never let it happen again.  Not if I wanted to remain free.  But now.  With her mouth on mine and her hands on me, with her power singing in the air and in my mind, my body screamed with need.  And even as a hidden part of me raged at the abuse, I faintly heard the rattle of my wrists pulling at the chains above me.  I can’t say if it was to push her away or pull her closer. 

She was taking from me, too.  As she molded herself against me, I could feel her skimming my life’s energy, drawing it from me effortlessly.  It didn’t hurt.  Yet.  But my breathing grew more labored and my eyes dazedly sought Thomas.  I saw him half sitting, half lying just beyond us at the edge of the bed.  All apparent resistance to Lara gone, he was watching us with hooded gray eyes.  He ran the tip of his tongue out over his lips, his breathing quickening.  Seeing what Lara was doing to me was turning him on.  It was because of Lara’s compulsion, sure.  But there was no doubting the arousal in that smoky stare.  It shook me.  I closed my eyes to hide from that gaze.  From him.  Lara’s hands ran down my body, openly grabbing my erection, gripping me hard and stroking.  I moaned into her mouth.  Then suddenly, unexpectedly, she released my lips - my body - and pulled away, disconnecting from me.  I was dizzy with lust.  My wrists briefly and painfully bore my weight as I fought the weariness that darkened my vision before I recovered. 

Moments later, I heard her say, “You are delicious, wizard.  Mmm…you almost make me change my mind.”  Her voice was low and seductive; her eyes unnerving.  Unconsciously mirroring Thomas’ earlier movements, I looked down - breathless and inexplicably ashamed.  I felt myself flush at her dark chuckle.  My body still hummed.  I wanted to drag her down to the bed, push inside her.  But taunting me was part of her game.  “However,” she moved back to my brother, running her hand down his torso.  “I have other plans for the evening.”  Unresisting, he obeyed when she pushed him to a full sitting position.  She undid his bonds and slipped the leather jacket off.  His shirt went next. 

Thomas has always been perfect.  Tonight though his pale skin was marred by the bruise on his shoulder that I’d seen earlier, and another that emerged from below the waistline of his jeans, winding cruelly over his hip.  Hazily, I felt the fury that boiled up in me at the sight of those bruises.  However, the recent direct contact I’d had with Lara and her narcotic kiss effectively stilled my tongue.  That too, must be why regardless of his injuries, I couldn’t help but notice.  I’ve never considered myself ugly, per se, but I’m far from model material.  Thomas was…seriously handsome, lean with the perfect amount of sculpted muscle.  

And I had never seen him like this, trembling with want, unfocused and in need, before.  Had never imagined him this way….would never have even considered it.  Lara pushed him straight back onto the bed, forcing me to pull my legs up, or be laid on.  The kimono slipped even further, but I didn’t pay it any more attention.  Any thoughts of maintaining my dignity were long gone.  Under Lara’s spell, I watched.  I watched him lean back, supporting himself on his elbows, seeing the muscles playing under his pale skin.  I didn’t examine too closely why I noted every detail.

Lara was still wearing her clothes, obviously not interested in removing them.  With a sidewise glance at Justine and I, Lara touched his leg, silently having Thomas shift over.  Apparently, she wanted to be sure we had a clear view.  I felt my face heat as I noticed again how exposed I was in the light fabric they had put me in, remembering the feeling of Lara’s hands on me.  Reaching down, Lara unbuttoned his jeans, fairly shredding the tough fabric as she removed them.  It was probably easier for her, considering how tight he wore them.  When she was done, she looked over at me, smiling.  She ran her hands down his body, purposely drawing my lust-filled gaze.  My eyes followed those fingers; it was impossible to avoid seeing the expanse of my brother’s pale skin, the leanness of his body and his erection, stiff and ready.  I could hear my breathing, quick and rough in my ears.  I’d rescued him once from near-sacrifice and we were roommates for a year.  You see things.  I’d seen him naked before.  But not like this.  Gods.  Not like this.  I closed my eyes, but the image was burned into my mind. 

I heard the sound of his clothing hitting the floor, and without making the conscious decision I opened my eyes.  I could see his hands shaking, gripping the material covering the bed, and his stomach hollowing with his harsh breathing.  Lara slipped her skirt up and straddled his waist, grinding against him.  With her skirt on, I couldn’t see anything clearly but my imagination vividly provided the details, especially when a glimpse of dusky skin showed the vampire wasn’t wearing anything underneath.  She ran her hands over his chest again and he groaned, tipping his head back onto the cushions. 

Her voice was silken steel, like a dagger in his chest.  “Ahh, Thomas...yes.  You are so perfect.  No wonder Justine was so happy with you.”  At her words his eyes widened and expression stricken, he turned his head to look at the other woman in the room.  I could see that bruise on him, still there, still dark, over his left collarbone and snaking down his back.  And in the shadows nearby, I could see where Justine sat, her head turned down and eyes tightly closed.  The glimmer of tears in the candlelight streaking down her cheeks. 

As quickly as that, he came to himself.  Thomas pulled back, moving away from the woman on top of him, but Lara laid a hand on his stomach.  Frowning slightly, she muttered, “Stubborn, difficult brothers.  I will have you.”  I felt a shift in the air around her as she reinforced her efforts to keep my brother enthralled.  Her voice lowered until I could barely hear it.  “…I am not done with you yet.”  His expression turned to anguish and then chillingly faded once more into that drugged tormented need.  He fell back to the bed with a gasp. 

Satisfied with his reaction, Lara shifted, rolling her hips - rubbing against him.  His breathing quickened.  Felt more than seen, energy swirled around them, between them, and Thomas was on the losing end of the exchange.  Lara turned to watch me as she lifted her skirt, and raising her hips, she made certain I had a clear view as she slid his cock up inside her.  She let out a soft moan as he filled her, and my chest tightened; I felt something twist low in my stomach.  Thomas exhaled raggedly, a small shocked sound torn from his throat. 

I had to do something. This was wrong, wrong, wrong.  This was no blissful surrender…this was possession, compulsion.  The manacles rattled as I struggled against them, my breathing rough - pulling and twisting, making the punctures bleed again.  Lara continued to watch me as she shifted, slowing her pace, twisting her hips; torturously heightening the sensation on the man beneath her.  And she was obviously enjoying my reactions - making soft quick groans as his hips moved up to meet her.  She ran her nails down his torso, raising welts as she went.  Thomas shuddered, moaning, arching his back.  The air was heating around them, making me uncomfortably aware of the sheen of sweat on their skins.  I could hear the soft wet sounds of their bodies moving together.  I was acutely aware of Thomas, lips parted and breathing harshly as he pushed up into her, moving harder.  Faster.  And I was ashamed at my body’s response to the sight, sounds and scents in front of me.  They were so close I could smell her perfume, his cologne … both intertwined with sweat and sex.

Lara leaned over, nuzzling, and I saw her lips latch onto his neck, sucking hard, marking his skin.  She moved purposely so his face would turn toward me.  His eyes were half-closed, but I couldn’t have avoided them if I’d wanted to.  They caught me…I felt myself react to that gaze.  I wanted to close the distance between us.  Touch that face, those parted lips.  I wanted to tangle my fingers in his hair.  The urge confused me.  It was then that I sensed a change in the air surrounding them.  The pressure of Lara’s seduction was tapering off, not a huge amount, but enough that I could feel it.  Thomas’ eyes were still locked with mine.  I frowned; I felt the energy shift, the temperature of the air grew noticeably cooler.  Then I knew that what I’d seen before was just a preview.  She was drawing deeply from him now.  My brother’s eyes widened, his lips parting further.  He took an agonized breath as he pulled his gaze back to Lara.  Her palms were against his shoulders now, holding him down.  Her skin grew paler, eyes shifting again from silver to chrome. 

Justine noticed the change also.  Her voice broke the near silence.  “No..”  I looked at her; she was shaking her head, her expression fearful, “Lara, no, please!  He doesn’t have enough left…you’ll kill him!”

Lara’s eyes lifted, fury flashing behind them.  “Quiet, doe,” she hissed.  “You’ve forgotten your place.”  I saw her concentrate briefly on Justine.  The young woman, already strained beyond endurance, trembled, gasping.  Then her eyes rolled back into her head and she collapsed.  If she hadn’t been tied to the chair, she would have fallen.  Small favor, there.

The succubus refocused on the man underneath her.  I could feel the cold in the air in front of me.  “L-Lara…”  Thomas’ voice sounded uncertain, shaky.  “Please…it hurts.”  The fear in his voice tore at me.  Frantically I looked for something, anything that I could use against her.  I pulled futilely at the bounds that held my arms.  My brother was gasping now, the strain evident in the taut muscles of his neck, his chest and back.  In every line of his body.

“Shhh, Thomas…”  Her hands stroked the sides of his face.  The gesture was not meant to soothe, it was to keep him spellbound.  The cold emanating from her was chilling me; her smile was frightening.  She really meant to kill him.  Her pace was quickening … building … as his breathing grew more labored.  I knew that when she was done, he would be gone.  And I couldn’t stop it.

“Lara!  Stop!”  No, no, no!  “Please, Lara, please.  Take me instead.”  My cheeks were wet; I don’t know when I started crying.  “Take me,” my voice broke, “please…he’s my brother.”  He’s all I have.  She ignored me. 

Her hips, her body, moved faster, her hands running over his chest and arms.  The pull of energy she took from him made me ache; she was taking so much I could easily see it now, even without my Sight.  The chill grew as the strain I saw in Thomas slid rapidly into pain.  His hands lifted from the bed to grip Lara tight against him, the muscles in his arms shifting as he held her above him.  The sounds they were making… Lara was crying out with each thrust of his hips.  Thomas was moaning, deep in his throat; I felt my skin burn.  I looked into his face and watched his eyes follow her movements, the pupils so dilated I could barely see the gray.  His lips were open; he was taking ragged shaking breaths, his hair was damp and curling on his forehead.  I felt hot all over, and unable to ease the pressure of my body, I moved - pulling against the metal holding my arms tight. 

Then Lara’s nails were digging into Thomas’ chest as his hips quickened brutally.  Barely breathing, my body throbbing, I ignored the craving of my aching arousal as Thomas threw his head back, moans rising as he bared his throat and cried out.  Lara joined him, swearing - forgetting everything else as she climaxed, her cries mixing with his.  Unconsciously, I shifted again as their voices echoed in my ears.

Their movements slowed.  Vaguely, I sensed Lara’s pull on him ease, and disappear.  And then the tension in the room was suddenly gone.  Thomas’ body relaxed, eyes hazy, unfocused in the aftermath.

Lara climbed off of him and looked down, a pitiless smile playing on her lips.  “Mmm.  If I had known…I would have done this long ago.”  Reaching over, she picked up his shirt and threw it over his hips.  I looked into his face again.

His eyes were closed.  He was so still.  No.

Lara walked up to me, cold and starkly beautiful.  Her eyes were solid white.  I couldn’t help cringing away from her.  She laughed darkly.  Reaching up, she pulled at the shackles on my wrists.  Still reeling from the psychic assault, I almost thought she meant to release me.  No.  She undid whatever mechanism it was that held them above my head.  My shoulders screamed at the sudden freedom of movement.  The manacles clattered in my lap, attached together by a short, odd, silvery looking chain.

“Lara…I thought..I-I..”  I didn’t have words for what I felt.  The room was spinning.  Thomas was dead.  In a few short minutes, my life had changed forever and there was nothing I could do.  A tiny voice asked what was going to happen next…I ignored it.

Lara moved gracefully over to where Justine sat, slumped in what I saw as blissful oblivion.  It would destroy her, I knew, when she woke up.  But for now, she was unaware.  She hadn’t seen the end.  Lara reached around and gripped the back of the chair, tilting it, and began walking for the door, dragging the unconscious woman behind her. She rapped at the door and the locks clicked.  The door opened.  I heard her address someone outside.  “I’ll be back in a few hours after I attend to some … ” Her glance flicked to the unconscious woman in the chair, “other things.  You are not to disturb them.  On my return, I’ll need you to dispose of the body.”

“Yes ma’am.”  She took a step into the hallway.  Some part of me that wasn’t in shock followed the implications of her words.  I heard it start to gibber hysterically. 

The rest of me was still catching up to reality.  Frowning, I said, “Lara…wait.  I don’t understand…”

"You don't need to, buck."  Her voice was mocking and she emphasized the last word.  "Thomas will be waking up shortly."   Shock ran through me.  She glanced back over her shoulder at me, tossing her hair out of the way so I could see the brilliance of her smile.

“And he’s going to be Hungry.”

Four

My heart lurched in my chest.  Hope came first, followed quickly by dread.  I tamped the latter down in favor of the former.  Thomas and I had been through a lot.  He was still alive.  We had a chance to get out of here. 

The little voice piped up again.  Thomas has a chance of getting out.  You have a greater chance of being eaten.  Soon.  Now that I could, I reached down and cinched that stupid robe tighter around me.  No belt, of course.  Trying to ignore the chafe of the manacles on my injured wrists, I scooted forward on my knees and leaned over him, looking for some sign of life. 

Every living thing has an aura of energy.  Most people can sense it, even if they can’t see it.  Have you ever avoided a person because they were in a “black mood?”  If I open my Wizard’s Sight, I see it as a vibrant living thing, expressing moods, thoughts and personality.  But with the manacles on, using my Sight was out.  Even without it, though, I can feel the energies that play around someone, their colors and movement hinting at the edge of my vision.  Intentionally or not, for everyone I touch or see, I get a “feel” for that person.  It takes more concentration without my Sight, and after what I’d just seen.  I was afraid to look. 

Feeling my heart beating in my throat, I leaned in closer to the still form in front of me, putting my hand on his chest.  There was no sense of pressure as I got closer.  No hint of that slight luminescent energy, the easiest to see, that hugs in the tightest around a person.  The larger subtle pattern of color, of life, that I’d come to associate with my brother, was just gone.  I blinked, my eyes burning.  Lara was wrong.  She’d have to come kill me herself. 

Then the slightest sound.  Startled, I snatched my arm away.  A breath so barely there I had to look closely to see it, and as I watched, it grew deeper until finally his eyes slowly opened.  They glimmered, chrome in the dim light. 

I sat back.  “Uh…hey.  Thomas?”  His expression was so blank.  So empty of…him.  “Thomas,” I repeated.  Anyone home?

“Harry.”  I should have been thrilled.  He knew me.  I hadn’t lost my only family.  But his voice.  It was still his, but…it was laced with that quality I’d heard only once before (only then it hadn’t been directed at me). 

This time, I felt it’s pull, and it scared me.

“Um.  Yeah…rough night, huh?”  He sat up, the shirt falling to pool at his hips.  It was unnerving, and unwittingly my eyes tracked the cotton shirt; following the smooth muscles of his stomach, seeing the hint of dark hair trailing behind the scant barrier of the tee.  The movement brought him entirely too close.  I felt his breath on my face as he leaned to close what distance was left.  I backpedaled, frantically holding that stupid robe closed, until my back hit the wall.  It felt ridiculous; I’m not some blushing bride, but I kept seeing, over and over, Lara taking him, using him.  Draining him. 

I knew that I was next.  Even if I tried to fight, I couldn’t beat him.  I might slow him down, but I was only human…with no magic, and drugged to boot.  He was a vampire. 

Worse, he was my brother. 

Thomas.  It would be his eyes turning from chrome to white.  It would be Thomas ripping the life from me, not noticing as the pain grew too great for me to bear.  Fear twisted horribly in my stomach - it was all I could do not to throw up.  Moving to follow me, he shifted forward in focused hunger, unaffected by my distress.  I shivered.  I noticed his skin growing paler, more luminescent.  My heart was pounding…the air around him had weight.  It pressed against me, caressing me.  “Come here,” he chided in that power-woven baritone.  “I need you.”  His voice lowered, growing deeper with want, urgent with hunger.   It was coaxing me closer.  And it scared the hell out of me.  I wanted to do what he asked.

Desperately, I pulled my eyes from that luminously intoxicating gaze.  “T-Thomas?  Hey, man…it’s me, Harry.”  He hesitated, confusion entering those alien eyes.  I seized on it, ignoring the panic coloring my voice, as I said again, “It’s Harry, Thomas.  It’s me.  Stop, Thomas, you…you don’t want this.”  I don’t want this.  Then my words hit him, and he flinched sharply, pulling back as if scalded. 

I heard him take a shaky breath, raising a trembling hand to his face. “Oh, gods.”  He closed his eyes.  I saw him try, try to close it off.  Push the Hunger back.  But Lara had known exactly what she was doing.  He opened his eyes again; they were silver, still.

His breathing was harsh, strained.  Tension stood out in the muscles of his jaw, in the corners of his eyes.  He glanced up at me and I saw naked hunger there, and desire.  Shame and self-loathing.  Crossing his arms over his stomach in despair, he turned away from me.  He curled up on that soft, decadent bed, that horribly inappropriate shirt offering little protection.  “Get away from me, Harry.”  It wasn’t a command.  It was a plea. 

I almost laughed, though not from humor. There was nowhere for me to go. It didn’t take a razor sharp detective to know that he was in agony. If he didn’t feed soon, the Hunger would destroy his mind. He would take me either way. I reached out, not quite touching him. “Thomas, I-I’m sorry.” I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I got you into this. You and Justine both.” He said nothing, and I continued. “This is my fault.”

He was silent for a few breaths.  His answer, when it came, was almost a sigh.  “I knew the risk, Harry.  We…we both did.”  He hesitated, obviously afraid to ask, “Did Lara kill her?”

“I don’t know.  She blasted her with some sex-whammy and it knocked her out.  Lara took her when she left…she was still alive, Thomas.”  I heaved a breath.  “If you can get out of here, you might still save her.”  He didn’t respond. 

The tremble in his muscles grew worse as I watched.  I ran things through my mind, looking for a way out, coming up blank.  Quite a nice little play by Lara.  She’d been paying attention in her father’s classroom.  She’d gotten the three of us and was using our love for each other as her weapon.  And now.  As the bitch had said, Thomas had to feed. 

Deeply. 

A calm filled me.  It felt a lot like terror, but that would be unmanly.  So it was calm.

“Will it hurt?”

Shocked, he whispered, “what?” 

“Will it hurt.” 

He rolled on one shoulder to look at me.  I could still feel the influence he had on the air around him, feel the pull of it against me.  It was muted, though, as if he were trying to shield me from it.  Silver-chrome eyes studied mine.  Ignoring what the question implied, he said quietly, “It’s not supposed to.” 

Under that pain-filled gaze, my thoughts splintered, shattered.  “But….” I heard my voice rising, words pouring out almost frantically, “she hurt you, Thomas.”  My chest contracted at the memory of what Lara had done to him.  He continued watching me, betraying nothing.  He didn’t respond.  “She hurt you.  I-I thought...shouldn’t you be protected?  Justine…”

“Is mortal, Harry,” he bit out in a resigned voice.  “I’m…” Humiliation choked the soft baritone to a near whisper.  “Tainted.  My hunger taints me.  She can’t touch Justine.  She can do whatever she wants to me.” 

There wasn’t much I could say to that.

Only minutes had passed, but we were running out of time.  I saw the shudders running through his body in waves.  I was only delaying the inevitable.  Soon, it would be too late for him to have any kind of control.  But I couldn’t bring myself to take the next step.  Not yet.  Silence filled the room.  The incense swirled, and I felt the pressure of his Hunger subtly increase.  He was hurting, and I didn’t dare touch him.  I was still reeling from everything that had happened - I knew I shouldn’t ask - it wasn’t any of my business.  Except here, in the quiet curling anticipation of what was to come…after what I’d just seen.  “Has…” I swallowed, suddenly nervous. “Has this happened to you…before?”

Hurt flickered across his face, so quickly I almost missed it.  I watched his throat work as he swallowed, closing his eyes.  “No.”  He turned away, curling up into himself again.  His pain hit me like something physical.  It ripped into me, agonizing.  For all of his uber coolness, his effortless beauty, and his obvious attempts to discount the anguish behind his gray eyes, I knew he suffered.  Always.  He’d been lover and drug to Justine for five years.  Beyond that, everyone he knew used him, lusted after him, or manipulated him for their own ends.  Everyone took.  And Lara had just done it again.  In the most horribly violating way possible.

I know it was stupid.  I blame it on the aura.

The manacles chimed softly as I laid my hand on his shoulder, feeling his skin, cool to the touch, except for the slight heat radiating off of the bruise still running up over his collarbone.  He shuddered, making a sound with an emotion I couldn’t identify.  “Harry,” he said with a small sad laugh, “don’t you have any sense of self-preservation?”

A rueful smile curled my mouth.  At least he was still joking.  “And you’ve known me for how long?”

He gave a real chuckle then.  I’d kicked off the “end game” by touching him, I knew.  But he was my brother.  He was hurting.  If I couldn’t get us out of here, at least I could take his pain away.  And hey, there was still hope…maybe he could stop in time.  Yeah, maybe he’d stop in time for me to be a drooling vegetable instead of being dead.  I watched, fascinated, as his skin grew paler under my fingers, watching the contrast grow between the skin of my hand and his shoulder.  I sensed the aura of Hunger around him strengthen, felt it reaching for me again and knew that he was slowly losing his grip on control.  He trembled under my fingers.  “Thomas, it’s okay.”

His voice was rough and angry.  Desperate.  “No.  It’s not.  I won’t be able to stop, Harry.  Get away from me,” he growled. 

“Fuck!  Thomas.  Just let me do this.”  The violence of my response surprised him, and he looked back at me.  “Will you?”  I heaved a breath.  “Before I change my mind.”  I looked at him.  Bruised, scratched.  Scary.  But still Thomas.  I shook my head.  “Look, man.  I can’t get us out of here.  This is your only chance.  And I can’t,” my voice broke.  I took a deep breath.  Tried again.  “I’m going to die here, anyway.  I can’t stand the thought of you…”

He turned slowly, sitting up again to face me, and I rushed to finish the terrifying sentence, “…you dying and leaving me here…”  I struggled to breathe around the hollow throbbing pain that gripped me.  My voice thickened.  “…alone.”  His eyes were on me.  Quiet, steady.  Silver.  Vaguely, I felt his forearms come to rest on my shoulders; he wound his fingers over the back of my neck and gently, he leaned his forehead against mine.  I felt the tickle of his dark hair on my face, and the ghost of his breath across my cheeks.  Instead of being uncomfortable, I felt the horrible ache ease.

I swallowed.  The air grew heavy, calling me, the muted pressure growing sharp and eager.  Well, no turning back now…I knew he didn’t have the strength to resist any more, and this was what I wanted.  I wanted him to make it out of here.  I felt his fingers move higher and he twisted them into my hair, pulling my head back gently.  I met those eyes; I couldn’t read his expression.  I tried to smile. “So…”

“Will it hurt,” he finished.  He breathed in deeply, closing his eyes and opening them again, silver glittering in the candlelight.  “No.”  Then his mouth closed over mine.  I felt the wave of his Hunger wash over me, and I tried to welcome it. 

It wasn’t as hard as I thought.  Maybe it was being exposed to the firestorm of Lara’s siren call.  Maybe it was seeing what I had.  Or being drugged after drinking a whole of lot of ale.  I don’t know.  I don’t know what I expected.  I mean, its not like I have a lot of time to think “what if?” about regular stuff, let alone this.  But I’ve never been one to hesitate once I’ve made a decision.  Thomas’ lips were strong on mine, possessive and demanding.  It was odd to find myself not in the driver’s seat, but this was his show, his need, dictating the pace.  My heart sped up as the kiss deepened; I could still smell sex on him, and the shampoo he must have used earlier that day.  Hearing a voice, whispering in my mind, I felt the prickle of goose bumps on my arms.  It was his voice, and mine.  Smooth, rich, filled with longing, and power wove throughout it.  It told me how much I wanted this.  It told me how good it would feel, and whispered how he wanted…how he wanted to see me, breathless, panting, and screaming his name when I came.

Part of me knew it wasn’t really true, that it was part of the seduction.  But another part of me heated at the images the words painted.  At the thought that Thomas wanted me.  Wanted to see me come.  And soon, his body would be hot, ready and shaking as he cried out.  For me.  The faint scent of ale lingered on his breath, mixing in my senses with the musk of his cologne and the spiced incense in the air.  His lips pulled at mine, his tongue teasing, tasting.  Heart pounding, I opened my mouth to him, and he drank me in, moaning.  His fingers twisted and pulled at my hair, and my mind went unbidden to his hair-styling days.  I smiled into his lips.  I felt his mouth curve up in return and his eyes eased open. 

Then the narcotic nature of his kiss took hold, and I felt a flush heat my skin.  I let it sweep me away.  I ignored the warning that screamed that I was lost, that he would take from me until nothing was left.  That even if I survived this, I would never again be solely my own.  Slowly, the pressure of want rose.  I ran my tongue along his bottom lip and he groaned, closing his eyes again. 

Something warm and delicious began to curl low in my stomach.  I tried not to notice the fear that ate at the edges of that warmth.  He brought his other arm up around my waist, cinching me in closer with a casual strength that shouldn’t have surprised me.  The feel of silk though, was shocking, reminding me of what was about to happen.  I didn’t mean to, but I must have stiffened, and Thomas pulled back, a question in his silver eyes.  “Sorry,” I said, with a tight smile.  I tried to think through the narcotic haze I was feeling, the sound of my heartbeat in my ears.  I gestured to the robe.  “It’s just, I.…”

Thomas looked at me, seeming to know what I was feeling.  “You’re not food.”  He slid his hands under the silk, running his fingers over my skin.  I closed my eyes and tried to calm the storm of emotions, tried not to fight the numb pleasure that throbbed and tried to take root again.  Maybe it was what Lara had done to me.  I knew I was supposed to give in; I couldn’t - my body stubbornly refused to relax.  I felt him tug at the robe, and watched his eyes flicker to the manacles.  The two combined keeping me both bound and humiliated.  Anger colored his tone as he continued, “You’re not kine.”  He put a hand on my chest, a gentle pressure.  And still unconsciously I felt myself resisting him.  I knew he could have easily forced me, and his hands were shaking with the effort of holding back.  He took a deep breath; I could almost see him lose…and then desperately regain control again.  When he spoke though, no hint of the strain showed.  “Give yourself to me, Harry,” he said softly.  I heard that thrum of power again, but it was warmer and less frightening.  “Please.”  It was still Thomas.  “I want you.”  That ache of need pushed past my drug fogged auto-resistance.  I forced myself to loosen, let him push me back onto the bed.  He lay next to me, leaning over, one hand on my chest.  I felt his breath move, hot along my skin.  His lips slipped along the curve of my shoulder to the hollow of my neck.  A soft sound in the back of his throat coiled and heated my blood.  I needed to touch him. I ran my hands up across his ribs, as far as the chain would allow, and he moaned, the sound sinking into my skin.  My nerves lit up and I groaned in response. 

“Thomas,” I whispered.  He shifted further onto me, his weight settling across my body.  He was cool and lean, those muscles shifting subtly.  I could feel him hard against me, and my cock jumped.  Thomas felt it too.  His hand moved down to touch me, and I inhaled sharply, not quite flinching at the reality of that contact.  I struggled to relax.  Thomas was watching me, and I saw caution in his smoldering eyes.  Could see him trying not to move too quickly.  I hadn’t expected that careful concern for my feelings, though I suppose I should have.  And it was strange to see those silver eyes moving so hungrily over my body; it made me wonder fleetingly if that look was just the Hunger. 

Fleetingly.

I could feel on some level that he was drawing energy from me, but it was so subtle, so light that it was barely noticeable.  Even though my body ached with need and the low whispers heightened the throb of heat in my groin, I felt self-conscious under that gaze.  His fingers tightened over my length, he stroked slowly, testing.  Thomas was breathing faster now, too, and he trembled.  His hips were moving as he stroked me, trying to increase the pressure between us; I knew he needed me to touch him.  It was difficult with the manacles’ short chain, and I struggled to ignore the clink and rattle of the damn things.  He shifted up to get closer to me, and finally I was able to close my fingers around his erection.  It was a new experience; touching another man like this, and I worried it wouldn’t feel good.  But Thomas let out a sighing moan and shifted his hips to increase the contact between us. 

Thomas obviously didn’t have any reservations about touching me.  Before I was fully aware of it, I was impossibly hard and aching.  I heard my voice, breathless, gasp, “just a guess…you’ve done this before?”  His eyes met mine, and he smiled.  The Hunger in his gaze was growing; the intensity switching from that tightly controlled careful concern to barely restrained need.  The sensation of being drawn from increased, but I wasn’t paying close attention.  I wanted….needed, to wind my fingers in his hair and pull him closer.  I needed to have more contact with him.  I needed to feel his skin on mine.  I was sinking deeper under his spell; soon nothing else would matter.  He saw the shift.  Felt it, maybe, I don’t know.  But he leaned in close, running his hands up across my chest.  His dark head dipped and I felt his mouth on my neck, sucking.  Teeth grazed a nipple and my mouth opened on a gasping breath as I arched my back; I could hear myself moaning softly.  A flickering glance, asking permission, was met by an unfocused gaze.  I felt my breath, hot and unsteady, shuddering in and out as he moved down my body, hands touching fervently.  Then my mouth clamped down on a cry when I felt his lips slide, wet and warm, down over my throbbing shaft.  The feeling of relief was ridiculously intense when I finally wound my fingers in his hair.  His mouth moved faster, his tongue twisting, tasting.  My hips moved and I felt his throat vibrate around a groan.  I pushed up into that hot mouth, moaning again at the sensation of his throat tight and trying to relax around my cock.  He pulled off, dipping his tongue down to taste me, before swallowing me again.  And doing it all over.  “Oh, empty night, Thomas.”  I wasn’t going to last long, at this rate. 

He knew it.  Sitting up suddenly, Thomas straddled my hips.  Distantly, I heard my gasping protest and looked up to see him smirking wickedly.  “Teaser,” I accused, panting.  He ran a tongue over his lips.  I could see his cock now, jutting up between us, and he wrapped his fingers around himself, stroking.  So not fair.  “You’re beautiful.”  The words slipped out before I realized he might be insulted.  But he only smiled, and tipping his head back, let out a soft moaning breath.  My eyes fell to the slow steady movement of his hand and something twisted, low and scorching.  He ran his hot gaze over me, and inexplicably, I felt myself flush.  A little late to be bashful.  His hips shifted on mine so he could lean forward - and with his free hand he skimmed over my stomach.  The movement was meant to be a caress, but it reminded me of what Lara had done to him and I shuddered.  I could feel that pull, deeper yet, and knew Thomas was drawing from beneath the surface energy now….had been for some time.  I felt fatigue around the edges of my awareness, creeping.  That should have set off alarms but all I could hear was the murmur of his voice in my thoughts.  All I felt was the blood rushing in my veins.  Mindless of the danger I was in, I hungrily watched him stroke himself. 

He leaned down, and ran his hand over my cock, smearing the pre-cum there, and then slicked me over with his tongue again, wetting me further and making me gasp for air.  His hands ran over my arms; I felt dampness on his fingers from where he’d touched me, from where he’d touched himself.  Trailing his fingers down my forearms; he reached the hated manacles, and with a thrill of alarm, I watched as he bunched the silver chain in his hand and carefully raised my arms above my head.  Again, that concern for me, even lost as he was in the feeding…the intimacy we were sharing.  Careful not to pull too hard.  Careful not to hurt my abraded wrists.  But trapping my arms above me.  I felt my back arch and my belly hollow with the position.  The silk of the kimono tightened around my shoulders as it gaped, and even though this room, this bed, had always been a trap, I felt it now even more keenly.  “T-Thomas…what are you doing?”

“Getting these out of the way.”  He said, sliding up to kiss me again.  It was reassuring, numbing, and I felt my momentary alarm subside.

“Um.” I said, intelligently.  His movement had pushed his various parts against me.  It was distracting.  His leg slotted between mine, pushing them slightly open, extending the contact between us.  He made a satisfied sound.

“That’s better.”  He gripped me again, apparently done with the foreplay.  He locked eyes on mine, his hand moving.  My shoulders pulled at the restraint he imposed.  Thomas’ smile had a predatory edge to it; he shook his head.  His mouth slanted over mine again, briefly, before he captured my eyes with his.  I didn’t have to worry about a soul-gaze, but it was unsettling, holding his gaze for so long.  Unconsciously, my back arched; his rhythm was quickly taking me apart – the carnal expression in his silver-chrome eyes driving me to the edge. 

“Oh, Stars,” I breathed. I could feel my energy pouring into him, and suddenly I understood how it worked. It didn’t matter now, though. Because I was almost tapped out. That fatigue was building in intensity and spots were appearing in my vision, but the need to come overrode all else. I was so close.

He must have been aware of the danger too, because his movements stilled and he released me.  I groaned, gasping.  His hand moved between us, running down my chest, coming to rest again on my aching member.  I lifted my hips, moaning and pressing against him.  “You have to get away from me,” his voice was pained, urgent.  I barely heard the words, craving the delicious pull of his fingers.  Thankfully, that hesitation only lasted seconds, since the quiet desperation in his voice belied the enthralling murmur of his Hunger in my mind.  His eyes were shifting to white - his skin was so pale I looked tan by comparison.  His hands moved on me again and I knew that it was almost over.  He quickened his pace, as driven as I was now.  I was gasping, timing the pull of his hand with my hips.  He wouldn’t be able to stop, and I didn’t care.  We were connected at the deepest level now, far below the surface, and the torrent of energy he was drawing from me was massive.  And unbelievably, it felt mind – blowingly - good.  Dimly, I felt the cold emanating from him.  I watched the scratches Lara had left on my brother’s chest fade.  The bruises yellowed, fading.  I watched his skin smoothing over to perfection again, the pupils of his eyes merging to solid white.  One leg was thrown over mine, keeping me from shifting.  “Gods, I can’t stop Harry.”  The words came with great effort; I know he wanted to just close his eyes and give in to his nature…and just take what he needed, all that he needed.  I could feel his harsh breathing in the lean muscles of his stomach beside mine.  And my body was tightening.  I felt his fingers skim over me again; he gripped me harder, stroked faster.  My mind whited out with the sensation. 

His desperate words finally permeated, but they didn’t make sense.  “What…I-I can’t,  Thomas, the manacles…”  I was shackled, helpless.  More importantly, I was so achingly close.  “Don’t stop.”  I could sense his burning scrutiny travel over my features and I can only imagine what he saw – my lips parted as I shook, taking small panting breaths…my eyes unfocused, pupils blown wide with desire.  He let out a long shuddering breath and closed his eyes, moving slower, then faster, maddeningly.  My climax loomed.  And it was then that I felt him reach the end of my reserves, the torrent of my life force choking to a trickle, the pull pushing into pain.  “Oh, fuck.”  That sharp hurt stretched and pulled at me, drawing me tighter and pushing me to the peak.  “Don’t stop.”  He felt it too. 

“Please no,” he breathed.  “I-I’m sorry.”  Below the pleasure, under the pain, I sensed him fighting that connection.  But it was running too deep now.  Despair gripped his handsome features.  My vision was tunneling, even as I felt my impending climax. 

I gasped.  “Yes.  Oh, yes.”  Every muscle tightened up impossibly, my hands, still imprisoned by his hold on the manacles, clenched into fists.

His eyes were desperate.  “Oh Gods, Harry…no.”  Hazily, I saw his gaze rake across the room.  They landed on the scrollwork inlaid above me.  His lips parted and I saw realization strike.  He let go of me and I almost screamed at the sudden abandonment.

“No!  No.  Thomas, please,” I gasped, pulling against the relentless hand that held my arms.  He ignored me.  I saw his lips tighten; he dug his fingers into the surface above my head, gauging grooves into the hardwood.  Getting a grip under the metal, he ripped the decoration out of the headboard with a grunt of effort.  On some level, I knew what he was doing was important.  I knew I’d given him the strength to do it.  But I was so achingly close and needing…  “Thomas…”

Taking the sharp edge of the metal he’d torn from the wall, Thomas found the lock on the first cuff.  With preternatural strength, he stabbed the iron-wrought decoration into the keyhole, nearly fusing the two.  The Faerie made restraint grew ice cold at the penetration, burning at my lacerated wrists…then there was a sharp cracking sound, a muted click, and it fell away.  He turned to the other cuff.  In moments I was free.  Thomas smiled grimly, though the hurt of tearing away from the intimate contact with me was plain to see.  He threw away the raggedly crushed piece of metal and with a glare, tossed the manacles after it. 

Breathing hard, face bleak, his hands gently ghosted over my abused wrists.  Over the blood that had dried from the puncture wounds.  He pulled back, physically separating himself from me, and I ached at the distance between us.  My body craved the peak it had been denied.  I could feel his effort to disconnect, but the space between us did nothing to stop what was happening; I could still feel the link between us.  Though slower now, the pain and fatigue were growing in greater increments as he continued to draw, to pull, from reserves that were empty.  Finally free to do so, I leaned forward, reaching for my brother.  I could still hear the murmur of his Hunger, and I had to respond to it.  He recoiled from me, breath ragged, his hair hanging in his face.  But I could see the desire burning in his eyes.  I could see the muscles in his stomach jerk – shuddering from the effort of holding back.  I knew he was trying to stop from taking me forcefully and draining me completely.  Only, he didn’t have to force me.  I was giving myself willingly.  “Harry, protect yourself from me.” It was almost a sob.  “Or you’re going to die.”  The manacles were gone; I looked at my hands.  Right.  I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts. 

I…I could protect myself.  I could call fire and blast a way out of here.  I was free. 

Five

Free to touch him.  I needed his hands on me.  My skin was on fire.  I shifted forward, reaching for him again.  He grabbed my hands and stilled them – his fingers like ice and steel.  Eyelids closed over that glowing white.  “Harry!  Hear what I’m saying.” 

I did.  Slowly.  Part of me mourned as I came out of the haze of lust enough to put two thoughts together.  “But,” and my voice sounded strange in my ears.  “If I do that, it will kill you.” 

His eyes confirmed it.  “Get out of here, please.  Just.  Please, get out.  Save Justine.” 

Right.  Justine.  With effort, I shut out the demands of my mini-me, and drew in my will.  I felt the fog lift somewhat, though not entirely.  I pushed aside the throbbing desire and a gnawing chasm of weariness yawned under me.  Yikes.  I was dangerously weakened; experience told me I’d keep going on sheer willpower.  But at some point I’d hit the wall, hard.  At least I could think a bit now.  I tried closing off the enticing murmur of his Hunger…and quickly realized to do that I’d have to shield myself completely.  I’d have to sever the connection between us.  He’d die.  I couldn’t rip out the bond he’d made with me, founded through lust and strengthened by the moments we’d spent together, without killing him.  So.  Ignore the throbbing want of my body and try not to pass out or.  Die.  I could do that.  Sure.

I looked at him, reaching out with my senses…he was still aching.  It had cost him greatly to pull out of that link and even more to free me.  His outline was dull, his aura horribly empty of color.  He needed more.  I closed my eyes; it suddenly hurt to breathe.  Because of what he’d done - he needed not just everything I had left, but more than that.  And if I didn’t do something soon…well, I was dying.  He was killing me.  In other words, if I didn’t find a way to finish what we’d started, we’d both be screwed.  I could appreciate the irony in that.  And no, I’m not sex starved.  Really.

I had an idea, but it wouldn’t be easy; I’d already been drugged…I was exhausted.  Light-headed.  I wasn’t sure how long I’d have the strength to do it.  Before I thought better of it, I pulled in energy, feeling the air charge around me.  Saw the reaction in the body of the man next to me as he felt me do it.  He expected the worst, and I didn’t have the energy to reassure him.  It occurred to me that I should verify something before putting all the eggs in one basket, so to speak, so I tenuously held the power ready with my mind and reached out to him, laying my hand on his chest – the easiest way to “look” at what I needed.  I knew it was dangerous; my brother flinched at the contact, but didn’t stop me or try to avoid it.  One side of my mouth curved up, I think I knew what he expected, and this wasn’t it.  I followed the path the link had made between us.  It confirmed what I’d seen earlier.  What I was planning was a poor excuse for the real thing, but maybe it would be enough. 

It wasn’t a complex working, but it required heavy lifting…and I was drained; I hoped I could pull it off.  Now that I was free, I wouldn’t shut out the call of his Hunger, even though I could have.  I couldn’t push him away to save myself.  And there was no way I would let him die. 

“Come here.”  If he heard the strain in my voice, he didn’t let on.  He didn’t move.  I kept drawing power in, adding to what I held.  Normally, I would be shaping it, redirecting it through and out of me by now.  It hurt to hold so much, but I needed a lot; what I was setting up wasn’t ‘natural’, it wasn’t efficient.  It was just the best I could do.  The quivering pressure of it made my head ache; I felt my hands trembling. 

“Thomas.”  I looked over at him…stubbornly not-moving.  “Don’t ask me to pull the trigger on my own brother.  Fuck that, I refuse.”  The feeling as I said it was sharp, frustrated…but my words sounded fuzzy, and indistinct with exhaustion.  I had to hurry.  I closed my eyes and let the energy I’d gathered flow into me, infusing it with what I could of mine as I did.  It took a hell of an effort, and it hurt.  Vaguely I heard a pained cry - and seeing Thomas flinch at the sound, I realized it was mine.  Sweat broke out on my forehead as my overburdened system bore the strain of taking in so much, but I felt the working take.  Now lets get this party started.  Heart pounding, ignoring the slithering fear, I focused on the voice murmuring, calling to me.  Truly unresisting this time, I let it spread in my mind.  It came with its own energy, and though I knew I’d pay for it later, I felt my weariness ease.  My heart beat faster.  This is what had to happen, I told myself.  This is how the White Court fed. 

This…is what Thomas Hungered for.

I denied that I welcomed it.  I denied that I sought it; that I thirsted for the thrumming need and the heat and the cries he would make…I said nothing more as I moved closer, seeing a wary question in his starving eyes.  He avoided my gaze, turning his face away.  I looked at his profile, eyes down, the clenched muscles of his jaw and the tremor of his body, tightly restrained, still resisting what he craved.  Needed.

Maybe it was the lure of his Hunger.  Maybe it was wrong.  In the end it didn’t matter.

I wanted him. 

I closed the distance between us, letting my breath brush over his skin.  Fingers tangled in his hair; I turned his face up, made him look at me.  Then I took his mouth with mine, groaning.  Thomas’ opened his lips to me and I dove in to taste him; I felt his chest rise against mine, his breath sharp in my ears.  Surprise colored his movements - he’d expected something else.  But the shock didn’t last long.  I guess I must have overwhelmed his willpower, finally.  The air gained weight, devoured my senses – swelling again and washing over me.  It was like being swept away, but instead of drowning, I felt the transfused energy flowing through the link…easing the intense drawing pull on the strength I had left.  Somewhere under the near mindless craving, I felt a thrill of hope.  In moments Thomas realized what I’d done - what I was doing.  He made a sound, something like relief and snorted a laugh, a wry, almost happy sound.  His fingers slid into my hair, turning my head so he could murmur in my ear.  “Harry Dresden…energizer bunny.”  The image made me chuckle.  Now that the current of power was established it wasn’t as much effort to keep it going, and only took a little of my own energy to infuse it with life.  Don’t get me wrong, there was still danger in what I was doing.  It wasn’t like I could simply transform the energy; I had to impart some of my life force into that current…and I had precious little left.  But since I was going to do it in any case, I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.

I felt his arms slide against me, around me.  Then he was pulling at the silk of the kimono.  Relief flooded me - without the manacles to stop it, Thomas could finally slide the robe off.  He pitched the hateful thing out of sight.  It was weird, but taking off that symbol of submission changed things.  In more than just a ‘now I’m naked’ kind of way.  Thirsty lips met mine again, leaving me breathless.  That pleasant haze spread through my limbs, familiar now, and I felt my blood catch fire.  I wondered if my eyes were as dilated and dazed as his had been earlier.  This is your brain…this is your brain on Thomas.  My heart was pounding in my ears.  I murmured under my breath.  “What are you doing to me, Thomas?” 

“This.”  All hesitancy gone, he pressed up against me.  I felt his erection, hard and demanding on my stomach as he ran his arms around my sides.  He swept them up my back, forcing me closer.  The air surrounding him was cooling; it felt good on my skin.  I’m taller than he is, so it wasn’t hard for him to dip his head into the hollow of my throat.  His mouth was on my neck and it felt good.  Unconsciously I shifted lower, closer to him.  His fingers were pulling at my hair; I gave in, letting him bare my neck as he pulled my head back.  I felt the pressure of his mouth, the heat of his breath as he worked his way up to my throbbing pulse. 

He closed his eyes, and in moments his lips found the soft skin behind my ear.  “Put your hands on me, Harry.”  My breath caught at the husky longing in his voice.  I ran my hands down his arms, down his sides.  When I got to his waist, I hitched him in closer, pulling his hips against mine.  I felt him moan against my skin, and pulled his face up to kiss me again.  Enough of this.  I pushed him down on the bed; he let me.  His skin was so cold.  I kissed that perfect body, smooth muscles jumping under the touch of my lips, and ran my hands over his chest, his belly, stopping only when I came to the hollow of his hip.  He shifted, craving more contact.  I looked into his face and drank in the sight of him, eyes hooded, mouth parted, as affected by this as I was.  Some emotion fluttered in my stomach, stirring the flames simmering there.  I ran my hand over his cock, tightening my fingers around him.  “Yes…” he gasped.  As he was reaching up to tangle his fingers in my hair, I knew what he wanted.  It didn’t even occur to me to hesitate.  Leaning over, I ran my tongue down the length of him, sliding his shaft into my mouth.  I moved my head, stroking him with my lips and tongue, and hoped it felt right.  He smelled of soap and sweat, and I could just barely taste his come from earlier.  He was moaning softly.  I knew he wanted to push my head down.  It occurred to me that with his strength it would have been easy to force me.  Easy enough for him to seize my head and fuck my mouth, hard and deep, and feel my throat tighten and shudder around him.  Instead, I felt the tremble in the fingers wrapped in my hair, another sign of that restraint.  Of course I’d never thought, never wondered, if he would be a considerate lover.  I should have known. 

Normally on the receiving end of this sort of thing, I was anxious; worried that I was completely incompetent here.  I wanted to make him feel good.  I heard his gasp as I pushed deeper, opening my throat as much as I could, trying not to hurt him with my teeth.  I pulled up and pushed down again, sucking, feeling the slick smooth length of him harden when he went in again.  The sensation was scorching me raw.  His voice was a throaty groan as he sighed, “Gods, Harry….I’m going to come if you keep doing that.” I quickened my pace, taking one hand and pressing his hip to the bed.  The only sounds were his rising groans and the wet slip of my mouth and tongue.  His body was tightening, his breath growing shallow.  I could taste salty pre-cum on my tongue.  I so badly wanted to reach down and stroke my aching … parts.  But I had my hands full, with both now holding his hips down.  He let me restrain him; let me dictate the pace, and it surprised me.  I waited until I felt that moment when the tension was highest.  Then I pulled off, leaning back and gave him a squeeze before he could come. 

Thomas said a bad word.  A string of them actually.  I gave him a half smile.  “Payback’s a bitch.”  But there was no malice in the words, only craving.  I didn’t want him to come yet.  Thomas recognized that and didn’t follow up on his initial murderous looking reaction.  I knew I was playing with fire.  His demon could have taken over, and things would have gotten ugly.  I leaned down, lapping at him; he inhaled sharply.

A breathless laugh followed that, and he said, “I've long suspected you have a death wish.” 

But he reached for me, chest arching up.  He ran a hand down my body, unashamedly spreading my legs, taking me, stroking me with one hand, while the other hooked me behind one knee and pulled me closer.  Then I was straddling his hips and he was pulling me down to kiss him.  I could feel the current of energy between us, more so I’m sure than others he’d been with.  He was still drawing deeply and the illusory rush of energy I’d felt earlier was beginning to fade.  I ignored the creeping fatigue in favor of the amazing feel of his body against mine.  It seemed natural to expect that, well, since I was the main course….that he’d want to ‘lead’, when the time came.  I tried not to think about it.  I knew I’d do whatever he asked of me.  I closed my eyes when I felt him wrap his fingers around me again.  I put my hand over his, trapping his hand on me.  “Harry.”  His voice was low in my ear, his breath hot on my neck.  He stroked me, once. Twice. "I want you..."  He paused, looking unsure for a moment.  I felt my pulse kicked up, pounding.  I tried not to let my sudden fear show.

One side of his mouth curved and he put a hand on my chest, pushing.  I got up.  Turning around, he reached under the pillows at the head of the bed, and produced a small tube.  It wasn't hard to guess what it was.  Handy.  But that tiny container was a stark reminder that he was familiar with this room.  Had been here before.  Doing things like this.  I pushed the dark thoughts from my mind, focusing on him and the moment we were in, right now.

He shifted closer, and I forced myself to breathe.  It would be okay.  He'd never intentionally hurt me.  And it wasn't like I'd never had to deal with a little pain.  Opening the tube, he took some of the stuff...and with a quick glance at my anxious eyes he reached for me.  Oh.  Apparently, what he had in mind wasn't what I thought.  I looked at him, catching the swift smile before he hid it.  I could almost hear his mental chuckle.  Then his hands on me pushed out any further thought.  

I watched the hungry expression on his face as he took a small portion of the stuff and coated me with it, unconscious of my hands running over his back and through his hair.  By the time he was done, precum was glistening on the tip of my cock and my breathing was unsteady.  He turned his back to me, leaning against my chest.  Wrapping my fingers around his hips, I pulled him up against my erection; he moaned.  I ran a hand down his back, lightly pushing him forward.  Slicking a finger, I carefully pressed it into him, wanting to prepare him so it wouldn’t be painful.  He was so tight, so hot and eager, and was moving his hips maddeningly, moaning.  Thankfully, it wasn’t long before he was ready for me.  My hand was shaking as I pressed against his opening, trying to be gentle.  Slowly I entered him, listening to his sighing moans and pulling back when I felt him tighten, my hands stroking down his back.  But I could see that I was hurting him even with the care I'd taken; I heard his breathing, unsteady and shallow. Worried, I started to pull out, but he said, “no, don’t…it’s okay.”  He took a breath.  “...just…slowly, Harry. It's good. I want to feel you moving.”  Groaning softly, I kept one hand on his hip as I eased back and then moved forward again until finally I was buried, filling him completely.  Thomas was shockingly tight; my body screamed to keep going, harder, faster, until I went over the edge.  My muscles shook as I held myself still; gave him time to get used to me.  In a few moments his breathing evened out and he muttered, “Gods, Harry. Yes.”  I eased out and pushed smoothly back in again – still trying to go slowly, trying not to hurt him, but I was slowly losing my mind in the sweet clenching friction of his body.  I ran my hands over that beautiful skin, seeing the muscles play under my fingers, and he arched into my touch. 

I leaned over him, extending the contact between us, and reaching around his waist I laid my hand across his stomach.  His muscles were shaking, and the tight heat as I pushed into him was unraveling me.  “Thomas … is this okay?” 

I could hear him gasping, making small sounds at each thrust.  “Yes, oh yes…just like that…”  I groaned in response to the aching sensuality in that voice.  I was having trouble dividing my focus to maintain the working between us; spots like raindrops sparkled in my vision.  I wondered if he felt the deep connection as I did, if the drawing pull added to the building tension as I fucked him.  My hand ran up his stomach, feeling each shuddering breath.  I leaned back, pulling him up with me, holding him against my chest.  I could feel the pounding of his heart.  Smell the sweat on him.  I ran my hand into his hair, gently pulling his head back to lean against me, then I left one hand around his chest, supporting him, and with the other I took his erection in my hand, stroking him, hard.  He opened his eyes and the wanton expression in them struck me low.  My hips moved faster, harder.  “Don’t stop,” his voice was rough.  “Don’t stop.”  I felt his body tightening again, and I wanted to be there with him. 

I took his moaning mouth with mine, feeling the heaving draw of energy increasing.  I was dizzy; I didn’t care.  He was pushing against me, meeting my thrusts, body clamping tighter and tighter around me.  I heard his moans mingling with mine and my stomach tightened, feeling his heart speed up, hearing his voice, sinful in my ears, as he came closer.  I was going to come.  “Oh fuck, Thomas…”  I drew him hard against me as I climaxed, slamming into him, suddenly feeling the pull of energy shifting to pain.  I kept going, his voice filling my ears…crying out as his muscles clenched tight around me, his come spilling over my hand - his breath shuddering out of him. 

Closing my eyes, I felt my body throb in the aftermath.  I slipped out of him, and sighing, I vaguely wished I had a towel.  Without really thinking about it, I pulled him down to lay with me, curling my body up around his.  He didn’t protest, and we rested.  Weariness had settled on me like a ten-ton blanket and I was thankful for the softness of the bed.  It was some time later that I felt him shift away from me, and I didn’t like that.  I heard him call my name, and it took me a second to respond.  It might have been longer.  “Empty night, Harry!  Answer me.”  I opened my eyes.  Stormy gray eyes met mine.  The fear faded from them when I smiled faintly.  “Stars and stones.  You scared me…are you all right?”

“Thomas.  You’re killing my buzz, man.”  Thomas gave a shaky laugh, running a hand through his hair.  I watched him, seeing his dark hair damp and curling at his neck.  I felt a smirk curve my lips.  I really was beyond tired, and I realized with a lurch of panic that I had dropped the working in those last moments.  Oh.  That was bad.  I didn’t think I could get it started again.  I reached for the connection, that flow of current between us, but it was gone.  Oh.  I guess I didn’t have to worry about it.  I tried to dismiss the pang of loss that ran through me. 

My eyes turned to the man beside me.  I noticed then that he wasn’t as pale as before, and the air around him…between us, wasn’t cold.  His eyes were their normal gray.  I could see that luminescence floating around him, hugging tight to his body, with the shifting colors of his emotions and personality.  He was whole, again.  My brother was okay.

Actually, he was more than okay.  My eyes went over the once again perfect skin.  Those tight muscles that felt so good against me, and lips that parted under mine.  I met his stormy gray eyes, and felt a pull, low in my hips.  I dragged my eyes from him, ignoring that little voice that whispered again that I would never again be wholly my own.  I swallowed, fighting against the fatigue threatening to overwhelm me.  “Well, I guess it worked.”

“Yeah.  It did.”  He was silent for minute.  “I’ll get us out of here, Harry.”

“What about Lara?” 

Bitter anger colored his voice.  “She’s had her fun.  It didn’t end the way she wanted it to.  Justine and I had made arrangements - if Lara ever found out what we were doing.  If Justine and I don’t check in regularly, well.  Let’s just say Lara won’t be in power for very long.”  He paused, looking down.  “Now that I’m….better…”  I took that to mean not drugged, disoriented, beaten and starving to death.  “I think I can make an deal with her.” 

“Mm.”  Yeah, that could work.  She wouldn’t like it, but I’d made deals with Lara that she didn’t like before, as long as it was to her benefit.  Justine certainly had access to information Lara wouldn’t want to get out.  In any event, it would have to work since I was in no condition to help him.  I closed my eyes.

“She won’t be back for a few hours.  Sleep, Harry.”  His voice softened; he repeated his earlier statement.  “I’ll get us out of here.”  I trusted him.  He’d do it…and I was so.  Tired.  I felt him move closer, and opening my exhausted eyes, watched as he crouched over me, taking that awful shirt and draping it over my body.  The kimono would have offered more coverage, but he had the sensitivity not to use it.  He reached out, laying a warm hand on my chest, then reached up and brushed the hair from my eyes.  I felt my heart skip at the contact.  “Harry.”  Pulling at his lower lip with his teeth, he hesitated, looking for words.

I waited.  I was too tired to talk at the moment.  It wasn’t because I didn’t trust myself to speak - that unguarded as I was, I might ask him if he still wanted me.  If what we’d done was the first and last time.  Because of course, that was just the residue of the enthrallment talking. 

“Thank you.”  He said simply.  “You saved my life.”

I couldn’t ignore the raw emotion in that soft baritone.  I frowned.  “I had to, Thomas.”  My voice was rough.  I shook my head, clearing my throat.  “I’m amazed it worked.  Thankful, but amazed.”  Gray eyes held my gaze, and I saw in them the echo of his desire, heard our voices mingling, and felt the strength of his body against mine.  Even though it was over, I still felt my body react to the memory.  That was normal, right?  I tried not to squirm.  “Uh, I have a question….”

He tilted his head, curious.

“Earlier…you seemed to relish having me tied up and helpless…” I felt my stomach clench at the thought.  “I-I have to assume it was the Hunger making you do those things…?”  He smiled slowly, those handsome features suddenly slyly, shamelessly decadent.  I cleared my throat nervously.  That wasn’t quite the reassurance I was looking for.

He made a sound, deep in his throat…and tired as I was, it still made me long to seize him bodily and pull his mouth down to mine.  “Are you saying you didn’t mind?”  His voice deepened to something sinful, and thoughts of right and wrong and everything in between went right out the window.  As far as I could tell, he wasn’t even really trying.

So not fair.

“Uh.”  Let it not be said that I don’t have a razor sharp wit.  I struggled to tamp down the reaction I had to the sound of his voice.  I am my own.  “Maybe I should take a nap and you should concentrate on getting us out of here.”  I let my eyes close.  “Just do me a favor….”  I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, feeling sleep lapping at the edges of my mind.  Unbidden, a quiet smile tugged at my lips, taking the edge off my words as blackness claimed me.  “Don’t work up too much of an appetite.”

. . .

True to his word, though I’ve heard it took some, well…vigorous negotiation, Thomas persuaded Lara to let us go.  Justine was still out cold.  Lara had apparently put off tormenting the young woman further due to - get this, a business emergency.  Yeah.  I couldn’t make something like that up.  But really…thank goodness the succubus bitch has a good work ethic.  We got Justine home safely.  Thomas even negotiated having a “word” with the goon with the gag.  Hey, I’m not judging on that one, I wish I’d had a crack at the asshole myself.  I don’t know what to say.  The leverage Thomas must have on the White Court must be fairly impressive.  A definite plus: I didn’t have to burn any buildings down.  Which, considering how unconscious I was during all this, would have been difficult.

It took me a while to recover, but I’m used to that kind of thing by now.  Things have been a little different between my brother and I, since that night.  I won’t go into details.  But I have to say his assessment was on the mark - Lara’s plan hadn’t ended the way she’d wanted at all.