Page 99 of Inhuman Nature

DJ had been the one to do that to Rake. To his boyfriend, his partner, his Dom, the person who he loved so deeply it hurt. If given the chance, he would have defended Rake to his last breath. But DJ hadn’t.

Rake had beensoclose to death.

DJ cried silently on the bed, until—he didn’t know how much later—Lawrence came back into the room, dragging someone behind him. A thundering pulse beat in DJ’s ears, and the tang of fresh blood filled his nostrils. His fangs elongated, getting caught on the cloth in his mouth.

“Food,” Lawrence said without preamble. “Here.” He threw the man down on the floor beside the bed. The man lay there inert, though DJ sensed his panic. When the scent of the man’s sweat replaced that of his blood, DJ recoiled.

Lawrence cut the gag from DJ’s face, not bothering to avoid catching his talons on DJ’s cheek, before slipping his wrists free of the cuffs. DJ used his newfound freedom to sit upright.

The man cowering on the floor whimpered when he caught sight of DJ.

“Relax,” Lawrence cooed. “He’s been crying, so it’s his own blood. Mostly.”

Unsurprisingly, that didn’t make the man relax. He crab-crawled backwards on the floor until his back hit the wardrobe. DJ had to stuff his clawed fingers into the mattress to stop himself from giving chase, the lure of prey almost too enticing to resist.

Lawrence reached out and grabbed DJ’s wrist in a hold that made his bones rub together. “You have good instincts,” Lawrence said at the sight of DJ’s talons. For one of the first times in their brief acquaintance, DJ couldn’t detect a hint of sarcasm or mocking in his tone.

DJ searched his face, wary.

Lawrence’s smile might have been soft if it hadn’t been for the fangs peeking through his parted lips. “Your body is reacting how it should be. It wants to feed. You’ll need a lot for the first few weeks. Now”—he nodded towards the man—“do what I created you for.”

“No,” DJ said. Though his fangs ached to tear into flesh, he couldn’t do that to another person. Not again.

Lawrence pulled DJ closer by his wrist before wrenching it to the side. There was a sickening snap of bone, then pain. DJ screamed as it lanced up his arm, and the man against the wardrobe echoed the sentiment by bursting into frantic sobbing.

Lawrence shoved DJ down onto the floor. “Now you’ll have to eat if you want to heal.”

“I won’t,” DJ gritted out as he cradled his wrist. He wouldn’t feed on his own, anyway. Lawrence wasn’t compelling him yet. He would hold out until he had no other choice.

Lawrence tutted. Actuallytuttedat him like some old-timey governess displeased with her errant charge. “That’s a shame. I was going to let this man live if you fed from him. Alas, I will have no choice but to dispose of him.” Lawrence stood and drifted towards his victim, who could do nothing but press himself against the wardrobe, eyes wide and leaking tears.

“You can’t,” DJ said, barely able to get the words out as his broken wrist cried out in agony.

“I don’t understand how you haven’t figured it out by this point, boy. I can do whatever I want. Nobody is going to stop me.” Lawrence grabbed at the man’s hair. The strands were just long enough for Lawrence to push his head back and expose the quivering vein on the side of his neck. Taking one single claw, Lawrence drew it across the man’s neck, right over the vein. It was a shallow cut, but blood flowed freely from the wound.

DJ was in front of the man before he realised he’d moved. His tongue darted out, tasting the dripping blood. It wasn’t enough. He needed more.

Blood pumped through DJ’s body as he latched on to the man’s neck, sucking at the vein. The sensation of his wrist healing was an odd one. It wasn’t instantaneous, but a slow slide as his bones and muscles righted themselves.

There was a voice in the back of DJ’s head the whole time, screaming at him that everything he was doing was wrong. But that voice was easy to ignore with fresh, hot blood in his mouth.

A sharp pain in his neck had him rearing back. Lawrence held DJ’s head, scruffing him with his claws digging in aroundthe collar; a sadistic imitation of what a bitch would do to her misbehaving puppy. “Enough,” he said.

DJ gave Lawrence the most resentful look he could muster. Not only had he made him feed on someone he didn’t want to, but he was now stopping him from taking what he needed. It wasn’t fair. DJ bared his fangs.

“You almost killed him,” Lawrence said, amused.

DJ turned to look at the unconscious man, covering his mouth in shock.

“It’s a good thing you didn’t,” Lawrence continued. “I’m going to recreate more vampires.”

“You what?” DJ choked out.

“You’re not special, boy. I’m building myself an army. Now, get back on the bed.” Lawrence layered a compulsion through the words. DJ’s feet moved, complying with the command.

“You can’t change half of Brighton into vampires,” DJ reasoned, but Lawrence was too busy shoving his bleeding wrist into the man’s mouth. DJ turned away.

“Put those cuffs back on yourself,” Lawrence compelled as the man drank lethargically from him. “Attach them to the headboard.”