Page 26 of Taste of Forever (Vampires of Sanguine #3)

Laith

K alix was unrecognizable.

And yet there was no mistaking him.

He stood at his full, imposing height, like the chains didn’t weigh him down at all.

There was some kind of metal mask covering his mouth with chains linking from the mask to a metal collar around his throat.

Chains wrapped around his arms, connecting his cuffed wrists to his waist, and then his waist to his ankles.

The escorts got to work on the time-consuming task of unlocking him, which allowed us to take in the friend and mentor we hadn’t seen in over twenty years.

Kalix was shirtless, and his black hair still reached his shoulders.

He still had the muscle of twenty years ago, but was covered in far more scars.

His vow to Blood ‘til Dawn was gone. The ritual scarification everyone in our clan did to ourselves as a permanent gesture of loyalty was now a puffy mass of scar tissue.

It looked like they had literally cut out his vow with silver weapons—the only thing capable of scarring vampires.

“Fucking Temkra, what have they done to him?” Cyan sounded like he was going to cry. “Look at his eyes.”

Instead of the warm, dark maroon color they had once been, Kal’s irises were a dull yellow.

The collar around his neck came off, and then the mask followed. Kal stretched his jaw and ran his tongue over his teeth.

His flat, fangless teeth.

I swallowed a sound of disgust and disbelief.

Filing down a vampire’s fangs was not only cruel and painful, it was humiliating.

To take away a defining characteristic of our species was reducing him to less than a vampire.

Less than a human. The practice had been banned centuries ago, when new clans were forming and fighting between each other was common. And they had done it to him.

The chains dropped at Kal’s feet and he…did nothing. The Kal I knew would have acted the moment he had a free hand. Or even started headbutting his captors if his hands were tied. But he just stood there like a statue while one of the escorts stuck a syringe into the side of his leg.

Like with the Marrower in the earlier fight, the injection seemed to shoot life into him.

He blinked several times, his eyes sharpening with focus despite the yellow draitrium haze.

His fists clenched at his side as his opponent, another Marrower nearly matching him in size, was brought into the opposite side of the cage.

This fighter too was unlocked from chains and injected with something.

The fight began with no signal, no preamble. The escorts had barely exited the cage and slammed the doors when the two huge vampires lunged at each other.

Unlike Kalix, the Marrower had two sets of long, prominent fangs, but he couldn’t even get close.

Kal’s long limbs punched and kicked, succeeding at keeping the other vampire out of close range.

Cy had mentioned something about Marrowers being into wrestling, so maybe this other guy had a good grappling game and Kal knew that.

Fuck. Did Kal even know who he was anymore?

An old memory popped into my head. Des and I had come of age in the same year, and carved our vows to Blood ‘til Dawn over our hearts at the same time. I remembered how much the silver blade burned, how hard I’d clenched my teeth in order to not make a single sound of pain.

The whole clan watched us carve our vows.

Cyan was still a juvenile, sitting next to Kal who was pointing at me as he whispered in Cyan’s ear.

I imagined Kal was telling him how brave we were, how we were willing and proud to take silver to our skin for our family.

How it was an honor to make this vow and it would be Cyan doing this same ritual when he came of age.

Young Cyan had grinned and looked up at Kal, all kinds of admiration in his gaze.

Now Cy looked utterly haunted, his eyes locked on the vampire who’d been a best friend, a brother, and a father figure all rolled into one, now fighting to the death.

Kal was clearly at an advantage in the fight, his long reach working to create distance and tire out his opponent. By the way the crowd hollered every time he landed a punch or a kick, he was heavily favored by them.

After a few minutes, something became clear.

Kal wasn’t fighting to kill. His blows landed solidly, but without lethal force.

Most of his moves were defensive, blocking or dodging the Marrower’s attempts to bring him to the ground.

He landed strikes of his own only when the Marrower got too close or left a vulnerable spot open.

Cyan and I looked around, sensing the crowd’s restlessness as the fight went on. It wasn’t the bloodbath they wanted.

“Come on, fuck him up!” yelled the guy who’d tried to sell me drae.

Sweat poured off of the Marrower’s gray skin, his breaths heavy and labored as he and Kal continued to circle each other. Kal barely looked gassed at all. He almost looked bored.

I wasn’t sure when it exactly happened, but the fighters hit a turning point.

The Marrower got past Kalix’s block, grabbed him around the waist, and slammed him to the ground.

Cyan and I both winced at the sound, but the audience let out a roar of outrage.

They yelled at Kal, or rather number 5406, to get up and spill some blood.

But Kalix remained down, not even bothering to block the onslaught of fists that rained down on him.

The Marrower straddled him and, with renewed strength, held Kalix down by the throat as the other hand beat into his face.

Blood sprayed everywhere. Cyan and I were close enough to feel droplets on our faces and clothes.

Eventually Kal bucked off his opponent, but it was with a fraction of the vigor he’d had early on in the fight.

He rolled to stand up, made it to his knees, and then was slammed to the ground again.

The Marrower had an arm around his throat this time, and got into the perfect position for a chokehold.

Under the blood gushing from his face, Kal’s skin turned dark purple. He barely struggled, only holding on to the Marrower’s forearm with a weak grip. I stared in disbelief, knowing with my whole being that he could’ve broken out of that hold if he really wanted to. Was he trying to die?

Cyan made a sudden move forward and I grabbed his arm, hauling him back.

“Get off me, Laith,” he snarled.

“No way.” I wrapped both arms around his chest, using all my strength to hold him in a bear hug. “You heard what Thorne said. We can’t expose ourselves here.”

“Fuck what Thorne said,” he choked out.

“I know.” I held on tighter, locking my hands together. “I know, Cy. I know.”

Kal’s eyes rolled to the back of his head, his body slumping in unconsciousness. The Marrower grinned as he cradled the top and bottom of Kal’s head in both hands, the motion looking like he was going to…

“Oh fuck.”

I released Cy and we both started forward, pushing through the crowd like our lives depended on it. More like Kalix’s life depended on it. He might have been honorable enough to not fight to the death, but we couldn’t expect the same from anyone else here.

Just as we reached the barrier separating the spectators from the cage wall, a flurry of escort vampires rushed inside.

“Fight’s over!” one yelled, spreading his arms to the sides. “Stop. Release him!”

The Marrower grimaced, looking thoroughly peeved. He had no intention of releasing Kal’s head and every intention of snapping his neck.

But he was distracted just long enough to not notice one another escort injecting something into his neck.

“You won’t deny me my…kill…” was all he got out before he slumped to the ground.

“Fights are done!” the first escort yelled, this time to the crowd. “Collect your money and get the hell out.”

Cyan and I lingered just long enough to see Kalix rouse, rubbing his neck before the metal collar was snapped back into place.

“Come on.” I squeezed Cy’s shoulder, urging him toward the exit tunnels.

He followed reluctantly, without saying anything. Neither of us said a word as we collected our phones and made our way back through the tunnels, but my mind was reeling with revelations and questions.

Kalix was alive. And someone — probably his captors, Carpe Noctem — wanted to keep him that way, despite entering him into illegal fights and torturing him. All the chains, filing down his teeth, putting him on drae. Fuck, it was unimaginable. And he’d lived through it for twenty fucking years.

The heaviness of what we’d just witnessed weighed on Cyan and me like an avalanche.

Neither of us knew what to say, how to process it.

We shuffled over to our bikes while I checked my phone, filled with pissed off calls and texts from Thorne since we hadn’t provided updates.

Backup was probably already on the way for us.

“I’m calling Thorne back,” I said, bringing the phone to my ear.

Cy didn’t respond. He just stood and stared as blank as a zombie.

Thorne’s ass-chewing over the phone was just as severe as I thought, but I happily took the brunt of it for Cy.

That had been his best friend, his father figure, in that cage.

Not to mention Kal had willingly agreed to be taken prisoner in Cy’s place.

That had to be a special kind of painful, knowing he’d be the one in that cage if it weren’t for Kal.

That Kal had done that, gone through all that, to protect him.

“How’s Cy?” Thorne asked once he calmed down from verbally reaming me.

“Not great,” I admitted. “I think he’s in shock.”

“Can he ride?”

“Not sure, but I’ll bungee-cord him to me if need be.”

Thorne let out a grunt that was probably meant to sound sympathetic. “I’m not getting Tavia involved, but I’ll let her know he’s going to need her when he gets back.”

“Good call. I’ll let him know she’s waiting. That’ll probably snap him out of it.”

“Watch out for him. And I want a full rundown as soon as you get here.”

“You got it.”

We hung up and I went up to Cy, clasping his shoulder and shaking gently. “Hey buddy. You gonna be able to ride home?”

He blinked several times like he was holding back tears. “What did they fucking do to him, Laith?”

“A lot of really fucked up shit. That’s why we’ve got to get home?—“

“We can’t leave him!”

“We gotta be smart, Cy. We need to do this right. We’re gonna tell the others and come up with a plan to get him out. We’re gonna make them pay for this, Cy. You know we will.”

“It should have been me.” He shook his head, his face contorted in anguish. “Fuck, it should have been me.”

“No, listen.” I clasped the back of his neck and made him face me.

“You were too young. You wouldn’t have survived a sentence like this.

Kal knew that and made his choice, Cy. And you never would have met Tavia.

I know it hurts, buddy, but you’ve got to make it home to your mate.

Lean on her and gather your strength so we can get Kal back. ”

He let out a shaky breath that seemed to deflate his whole chest. “Okay.”

“Good.” I squeezed his nape once more before letting go. “You ride ahead. I’m watching your back.”

The ride home felt too long despite our speed.

I had no idea if Heather would still be waiting for me at Pulse Point.

A long shower and a hearty draw of her blood was exactly what I needed, but who knew if either of those things were happening tonight.

Thorne would want to know everything in precise detail and Cyan was in no shape to relive the event. So reporting back would fall on me.

Again, I was happy to carry the burden so Cyan wouldn’t have to. It just sucked that this happened to fall on the same night I was supposed to see Heather.

The moment we got home and off the bikes, I texted Skye to see if Heather was at Pulse Point and if they could pass a message from me.

My head was down, thumbs flying over my phone screen as Cyan and I walked into the great room.

When I looked up, Tavia was already crossing the room, her arms outstretched and her expression full of love and concern.

Cyan fell into her embrace like a puppet with its strings cut. His head went to her shoulder, arms folding around her waist as he drew her in tightly. I wasn’t sure how much Tavia knew, but she seemed to have an idea.

“You’re okay,” she whispered to Cy, one hand scratching the back of his head while the other rubbed his back. “It’s going to be okay, love.” Over his shoulder, she caught my gaze and mouthed, “Find him?”

I nodded and mouthed back, “Alive.”

She nodded and returned her attention to Cy, holding him protectively. “Hey, let’s go to bed and rest, okay?”

I gave them space to head down to the underground apartments, taking the opportunity to wash my hands in the kitchen and splash water on my face. Then I splayed my hands wide on the counter and just let my head hang.

The night was still young, but I felt ragged. Exhausted. Too much horror and evil for one night.

I couldn’t imagine Kal living like that for 20 years, day after day. Shit, out of him, Cyan and me, I was probably faring the best out of all of us.

But at least Cy has a mate to lean on.

The thought was bitter and selfish and unlike me. My emotions were frayed and uncontrollable, like sparking wires swinging freely. And it was my envy that caught hold of me for the moment.

Tavia was here when Cyan needed her. She was living proof that a mate wasn’t just about sex or blood, but supporting each other through highs and lows. Meanwhile, Heather gave me her blood but emotionally kept me at arm’s length while she went home to a shitty boyfriend.

She should be coming home to me. And I should be falling into her arms after a rough night. And it was fucked that none of this was happening way it should.

“Fuck! This.” My fists came down on the counter and I relished in the pain radiating up my arm. Pain for Kalix, for Cy, and for my own pathetic situation.

“Hey.” Thorne came through the double doors, unwrapping a fresh pack of darakt cigarettes. “You done being a juvenile and ready to give me that report?” He took a seat at the island and lit up.

I let out one final self-pitying sigh, then turned around. “Yeah. It’s worse than we thought.”