Page 41 of Inhuman Natures #1

DJ

DJ had been sitting on the sofa in silence ever since Lawrence had told him to come into the house. He remembered Lawrence compelling him, giving him the intrusive order that had to be followed no matter what. It had been long enough that the compulsion had worn off, but DJ still hadn’t moved.

He curled up on the Chesterfield with his hands around his knees. He couldn’t close his eyes. If he closed them, all he saw was—

No.

He vacantly watched Lawrence dash in and out of the room, bringing with him various alarming items and leaving them on the table. The pile now included several coils of rope, a few leather cuffs, and a disturbing number of metal manacles.

DJ shook his head to dispel the dark thoughts that ran through his mind. He needed a distraction, and Lawrence was the only one available. So, the next time Lawrence entered the room, DJ broke the silence.

“What are you going to do with me?” he asked .

Lawrence stopped in his tracks. DJ was terrified for a second that he’d just given him some horrible ideas, but Lawrence just smirked. “Don’t worry. You’re not my type. You’re useful. For now.”

DJ ignored the implied warning. “Oh yeah, your type is young boys, isn’t it?”

“Given your liaison with Shaun, that accusation is rather hypocritical.”

“But you wish he was younger, don’t you?”

“Shaun was a consenting adult during the entirety of our relationship.”

“You and I have very different definitions of the words ‘consenting’ and ‘relationship’.” DJ paused. “And ‘adult’, for that matter.”

“The strong have always taken from the weak,” Lawrence said, waving a dismissive hand. “It is the way of life, and of death.”

“Shaun isn’t weak, and you’re not strong.”

Lawrence strolled over to him with an air of practised nonchalance. “I should compel you to walk into the sea and keep going until you reach France.”

“Sounds good. I could do with a holiday right now.”

“I assume you’ve never drowned before, have you?” Lawrence got in his face, and DJ reared back.

“No, this is the first time I’ve died, funnily enough.” He kept his voice level, but Lawrence grinned, flashing a hint of fang.

“You’re so new that you’re still breathing,” Lawrence said as he placed a hand to DJ’s heaving chest.

DJ wanted nothing more than to shove his touch off, but resisted the urge.

“We don’t need oxygen,” Lawrence said. “Breathing is just a habit many of us have from our human days. Do you know what happens when you cannot die from a lack of air and yet fill your lungs with water?”

When Lawrence looked at him expectantly, DJ took the hint. “I can imagine.”

“No, I don’t think you can.” Lawrence’s claws grew, their tips digging right into DJ’s chest.

DJ inhaled a sharp breath.

“There,” Lawrence said, looking pleased.

“That panic you’re experiencing, it’s a bit like that.

But your brain and your body will be at odds.

Your body will want to fail, but your brain will tell you to keep fighting.

Then your lungs will try to expel the water, but they won’t be able to.

Your body will bloat with the amount you’re taking into your lungs and stomach.

Your brain will eventually switch off, of course.

But then you’ll revive, and the process will begin anew. And so it will continue, ad nauseam.”

“Well, I certainly wanna hurl at that description.”

Lawrence threw his head back and laughed. “Perhaps I will keep you, boy. Shaun always wanted an actual pet. Did you know his parents never let him have one when he was growing up? He was too immature.”

DJ clenched his jaw. “I’m not an animal.”

“We’re all animals. Some of us are just higher up in the food chain than others. Besides, I have it on good authority that you enjoy being leashed.”

Until that moment, DJ hadn’t noticed he’d been nervously fingering the chain around his neck .

Lawrence’s eyes danced with glee. He reached down and pulled on the chain, snapping it as if it were made of string and not silver. DJ stared at the broken metal in Lawrence’s hand for a second before launching himself at him.

DJ found himself face down on the sofa before he so much as landed a blow.

“You could never take me down, even on your best day.”

DJ only managed a muffled, “Fuck you,” into a cushion.

“Eloquent.” DJ heard the telltale rattle of a chain and started struggling.

“Stop fighting me,” Lawrence commanded. DJ’s body went limp.

He wasn’t sure how long the compulsion lasted, but it was long enough that Lawrence cuffed one of his wrists without DJ making a peep.

Lawrence then picked him up like he weighed nothing and ran them both upstairs.

DJ recognised Shaun’s room when they entered.

Lawrence threaded the chain of the cuffs through several iron rungs on the headboard and clicked the empty one onto DJ’s wrist, leaving him lying on the bed with his arms spread.

Lawrence ripped the bedsheet and used it to stuff DJ’s mouth full of cotton, tying another piece around his head to keep it in place.

“There,” Lawrence said. “Now you won’t be able to bother me.”

DJ tried telling Lawrence his opinion on that through the gag, but he managed nothing more than a few grunts.

Lawrence disappeared for a second before returning with something in his hand—the ugly red collar that Shaun had worn to the club.

DJ shook his head, but Lawrence ignored his protestations and fixed it around his neck, notching it one hole too tight.

To be without Rake’s collar was devastating, but to wear someone else’s was even worse. Tears pricked at the corners of DJ’s eyes.

“Aw,” Lawrence said, dripping with condescension. “Did that hurt your feelings?”

DJ pulled against the rungs of the bed, the clanging echoing in the bare room. He had never been a violent man, but now all he wanted to do was rip Lawrence limb from limb.

Lawrence tapped a clawed finger against the iron. “It’s reinforced. You think Shaun ever got out when I had him chained up like this?” He strode to the door and gave a sarcastic wave. “Stay put. I’ll let you know when I need you again.”

DJ held back his sobs until Lawrence was downstairs. The red tinge with his blurred vision was new, as was being able to listen to Lawrence’s every move from a floor away.

DJ’s emotions were all jagged edges, his senses sharpened to the point it was unbearable.

He tried not to think about Rake. When he did, he thought he might be sick.

Even though he’d hated every moment of feeding on Rake, it had been intoxicating.

DJ’s instincts had taken over. Deep down, he feared that even if Lawrence hadn’t been forcing him to continue, he wouldn’t have been able to stop.

Keen to focus on anything else other than despair, he yanked at the chains. But it was no good. He was stuck lying there with only his thoughts.

They were miserable company.

He wondered how many times Shaun had lain in this exact position.

Worse, he thought about what might have happened in this very bed.

It made him nauseous to even consider it.

One small comfort was that Shaun remained out of Lawrence’s grasp.

DJ could be brave and handle a night. But memories from the past few hours played on an endless loop.

The shock of his heart stopping and never starting again, yet somehow leaving him more alive than ever before.

Rake’s cries when DJ bit into him. The taste of Rake’s flesh under DJ’s teeth, his blood all notes of fear and sorrow, with the underlying pungency of rage.

It was as if all the blood that DJ drew from Rake’s veins had been pumped from a broken heart.

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 been so close 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.