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“Let’s watch the rest of this parade,” Grayson said. “It’s already been quite a show.”

THE FINAL BLOODLINES

Ryder’s eyes slid down to Grayson’s beautiful face, which was illuminated by the silvery-white street lamps. The young man was determinedly looking at the parade route and not at him or even Demos. Was the young man angry, hurt or perhaps afraid of the Weryn now?

Who would blame him?

The bruises on Grayson’s throat and wrist were dark and painful looking. They were like a chain around those delicate parts. The soft skin bloomed with purples, blues and blacks. Unlike a Vampire’s wounds, a human’s could not be cured with just a sip of blood. Grayson would touch his bruises and wince a little, but he was smiling and seemingly alert to everything going on. Not alert as in alarmed, but alert as in interested and excited.

“Grayson, I am truly sorry for Lawson’s actions,” Ryder said again, knowing that words could never be enough to erase what had happened even though the young man had handled himself very well.

Grayson had given far more than he’d gotten, and, the truth was, Ryder wondered who exactly they had been saving when they charged over to Grayson and Lawson. Yet the guilt still burned him. Grayson hadn’t known he needed to protect himself against Lawson. Ryder had. But he hadn’t warned Grayson. He hadn’t insisted on being by his side. King Daemon had practically given him a neon warning sign and he’d just… ignored it.

No, I underestimated how low Lawson would go. I thought that Lawson might only take advantage of an opening where they were left alone together. Not that he would seek Grayson out. My mistake...

Grayson looked over at him, but then quickly went back to staring at the parade route. He was flushed. Ryder thought that was better than pale. But perhaps it was because he was feeling ill. Ryder wanted to fix this. How could he fix this? Why had he ever left Grayson alone? Even for one moment?

“You’re not responsible for him,” Grayson said. “I’m more worried about what he’s going to do to you two.”

“Us?” Demos’ eyebrows lifted. “You’re worried about us?”

“I saw how he was with you and Ryder earlier,” Grayson answered, lips flattening into a thin line.

Ryder tried to remember if Lawson had been anything different than he ever was when he was upset. Not really. Ryder’s concern had been Grayson. But Grayson’s concern had been him. Them.

“Aye, he’s a bit much right now, in general, because of the situation,” Demos said evenly. “He feels control slipping from him.”

“You’re downplaying it. He’s a bully. A creep. The type that has a short fuse and is just waiting to explode onto people near him. Shrapnel everywhere,” Grayson answered, summing up Lawson so quickly and clearly that Ryder felt foolish.

Demos met Ryder’s eyes then and there was a touch of “I told you so” in them. No one else would say anything against Lawson in their Bloodline, let alone their House. And he normally didn’t care what other Vampires thought, not that they ever spoke to him about his Master. But here was Grayson laying bare what he and Demos had not even said to one another.

“You sound like you have some experience with people like that,” Ryder said, eyes shadowed.

“On the street you learn to put people into boxes to keep yourself safe. We like to think we’re different, singular, and stuff, but there are types,” Grayson said with a shrug. “Even if you’re wrong, and someone isn’t the bad thing you think, it’s safer to make that kind of the mistake than the other.”

On the street… Ryder found himself grinding his teeth.

Grayson was beautiful, and though he was so tough, there was a vulnerability to him. Something about those wounded eyes that said he had once known life as sweet and still held onto that. He hadn’t become hard and all sharp edges. In a way, his gift might have spared him that, because he could defend himself where others couldn’t.

“Lawson is a type, huh?” Demos asked lightly. “Yeah, he is at that.”

“Is Lawson your Master, too, Demos?” Grayson asked, not looking at Demos either.

Could he not bear to look upon them? Ryder felt the urge to vomit paired with the desire to go after Lawson and pummel him into next week.

“I think of him as the one who turned me, not my Master,” Demos said.

Grayson blanched as he glanced at Demos. “Oh, God. I’m sorry I didn’t think when I said--”

“You’re thinking as a Black man calling anyone ‘my master’ is offensive no matter what the context?” Demos guessed with a thin smile. “There’s something to that. But no, that’s not why I don’t think of Lawson specifically that way.”

Grayson’s shoulders relaxed though he looked contrite. “I’m sorry. I should have thought before I said anything.”

“No, little one, you’re just fine. I don’t offend easily especially when no offense is meant,” Demos explained. “I don’t think of Lawson as my ‘Master’ because he has never mastered himself and he certainly could never master me. You’re right about your typing of him though.”

“No one could master you, Demos,” Ryder grunted.

“Indeed not. And it looks like Lawson couldn’t master Grayson either. That was quite the Jedi mind-trick you pulled with him, having him strangle himself, little one,” Demos pointed out with evident amusement and a touch of dark enjoyment. Though Ryder knew by the way that Demos, too, kept checking out those bruises that he was concerned about Grayson as well.