Page 12 of Wreaking Havoc (Demon Bound #1)

11

Sascha

S ascha’s tummy hurt.

Throwing up was awful, but he was probably going to anyway. And it would be extra awful because his throat didn’t feel too good either. He probably needed medicine, something to make it not hurt so much.

But it was the middle of the night. The nanny had already gone home. And Sascha wasn’t supposed to interrupt Papa, even after dark.

Especially after dark.

That was the agreement. That was why he’d been allowed home from boarding school over the summer. The conditions, Papa had said. So if he wanted to stay—to see Alexei and Ivan for more than just the Christmas holiday—he had to stay in bed.

He could do it. He could . He was six now, almost seven. He’d be going into second grade next year. He wasn’t a baby.

But it really hurt. And the water cup by his bed was empty.

Sascha frowned at the empty cup. The stupid nanny had forgotten to fill it. Oh well, she’d be gone soon. Papa had seen her carrying him up the stairs earlier. Babying him. So bye-bye, nanny.

Sascha tried to smile, but it turned into a grimace as his tummy cramped again. He tossed his covers back and climbed gingerly out of bed.

Maybe he’d just check. Papa might be at the warehouse, anyway, and then Sascha could sneak into Ivan’s room and ask if he knew where the medicine was.

He crept into the hallway. It was dark, but there were lights on downstairs. He went down the stairs, shivering as he went. Did he have a fever again? It felt like he did.

There was no one in the living room. No one in the kitchen either. There was light coming out from under the basement door though. Papa must have been down there.

Sascha wasn’t supposed to go in the basement.

But he could hear voices down there, and one of them sounded like Ivan. If Ivan was down there, it couldn’t be too bad, right?

Sascha opened the door as quietly as he could. He’d just take a peek. If it looked okay, he’d ask Papa for some medicine. Maybe he’d get the pink stuff that tasted like bubblegum.

He crept down the stairs. There was Papa’s voice. And Sergei’s. And one Sascha didn’t recognize. A man’s voice. He was kind of loud. And whiney.

Maybe his tummy hurt too.

Sascha made it to the bottom, the basement room now in view, and he suddenly couldn’t be quiet anymore. He gasped.

There was Papa and Sergei and Ivan. Ivan was looking so grown up, standing next to Papa, his hands clasped behind his back.

And sitting in front of them—his back to Sascha—was a man. He was tied to a chair with rope, and he was…red. All over. Was that blood? Why would he be so bloody? It was dripping down the floor, onto a plastic sheet someone had laid down there.

Sascha swallowed hard, his tummy churning.

“Sascha.”

He looked up to find Papa watching him. Sascha couldn’t tell if he was mad. Papa always kind of looked mad. But he probably was, right? Sascha had disobeyed him, and now he was interrupting, and this strange man clearly had had some horrible accident, and Sascha was getting in the way.

“Come here,” Papa ordered.

Sascha walked over to him, keeping as much distance between himself and the man in the chair as he could. Papa placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, turning him around. Facing the man in the chair.

Sascha kept his eyes on the basement floor. He didn’t want to look at the man.

“I told you not to come down here, yes?” Papa’s voice was flat and cold, thick with the accent of his homeland.

“I know, Papa. I don’t—I don’t feel so good though.”

“Why are you looking at the ground, Sascha?”

Sascha didn’t say anything. He somehow knew whatever answer he gave, it wouldn’t be the right one. He kept hoping Ivan would say something. Offer to take him upstairs, maybe. Away from the man in the chair. Away from Papa.

But it was Papa’s voice that rang out. “Look up, Sascha.”

Sascha lifted his head. It was definitely blood the man was covered in. He had cuts and bruises everywhere, his face so swollen he almost didn’t look human. And his hands…

There were fingers missing. More than one.

A burning sensation rose from Sascha’s stomach to his throat. He was going to throw up. He was.

“You will not vomit, Sascha.”

Sascha looked behind him. Papa was angry now.

It took everything in him, but Sascha swallowed the rising bile down. His mouth tasted like vomit in the end anyway. He wanted to cry. But if he did…

He knew Papa wouldn’t hurt him, not like he’d hurt this man in the chair.

But what if Sascha was wrong about that?

He could hear the blood dripping onto the plastic. A steady, plopping sound.

Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up. Don’t throw up.

When Papa saw he was keeping it down, he smiled at Sascha. Or his mouth smiled. Not his eyes though. “Good, Sascha. Now look again.” Sascha lifted his gaze, praying again everything in his tummy would stay where it belonged. “This is what I protect you from, yes? Why I send you away to that fancy school with your weak, spoiled classmates. Aren’t you grateful, Sascha?”

It was a long moment before Sascha could speak. “Yes, Papa.”

“What do you say?”

The man in the chair was crying now.

“Thank you, Papa.”

“What kind of sickness?” Papa asked.

“W-What?”

The man’s cries were turning into sobs, loud and guttural. Sascha couldn’t hear the blood dripping anymore.

“What brought you down here, Sascha?” Impatience laced Papa’s words for the first time. “What kind of sickness?”

“My tum—my stomach. And my throat. And—and a fever?”

“All right.” That heavy hand lifted from Sascha’s shoulders. “Back upstairs. Sergei will bring you medicine.”

“Thank you, Papa.” Sascha looked to Sergei. He was holding something that looked almost like a big gardening tool. It was covered in red. “Thank—thank you, Sergei.”

It was time to go back upstairs. But Sascha’s feet wouldn’t move. And his eyes kept returning to the man in the chair.

The man noticed him looking. His cries quieted. He opened his mouth, spitting out a large glob of blood.

And then the begging started.

And now Sascha was sick again.

It was the worst. Sickness always was. He always had to do it alone. Papa never let Sascha’s nannies stay the night, even when he didn’t feel good. And Alexei would be punished for coddling if he tried to sneak into Sascha’s room.

But clearly this nanny must have disobeyed orders, because there was a cool, wet washcloth running across Sascha’s forehead.

It felt like heaven.

He moaned weakly, the sound barely escaping his tortured throat. “Feels good,” he mumbled.

“You’re awake?”

Dang. This nanny had a deep voice. And they smelled like smoke and spice.

Sascha forced his lids open to find piercing blue eyes staring back at him. Right. He wasn’t a child. There was no nanny.

Just him and his demon.

Kai was on the bed next to him in his demon form, his feet hanging off the end in order to fit, a small washcloth dwarfed by his large, clawed hand. His brows were furrowed, and his face looked pale, which Sascha hadn’t been aware his blue skin tone was capable of.

Apparently Kai didn’t find the twenty-four-hour flu very appealing.

Sascha frowned up at him. “I feel like crap.” The words came out sulky, but Sascha was too weak to correct it.

“You told me you were dying,” Kai said, his gaze weirdly intense, even for him.

Sascha attempted a laugh, but the sound quickly dissolved into a hacking cough. “Did I?” he managed once the fit stopped. “Sorry, I’m a drama queen when I’m sick.”

Kai didn’t laugh. He didn’t even crack a smile. He just silently handed Sascha a glass of water.

Sascha licked dry lips and then chugged the whole thing down. The cool liquid did wonders for his throat.

He gave the glass back to an eerily quiet Kai. “Did I say something stupid when I was out?” Sascha asked. “How long have I been out?” Had Kai put him to bed at some point? Sascha could have sworn he was on the couch before.

He mustered up the strength to reach for his phone from the bedside table, but the screen was black, even after he tried to power it on. Dead. He waved a hand at Kai. “Give me that cord, will you?”

He plugged his phone into the charger and set it aside.

Kai was still staring hard enough to bore holes into his skull. “It’s been a full night and day since you lost consciousness.”

Sascha sat up, categorizing his aches and pains. His throat wasn’t too bad now that he’d had some fluids. His limbs were feeling kind of weak, but that was probably just from dehydration. Same with his head full of fuzzy cotton. All in all, it could have been worse. “I didn’t lose consciousness. I fell asleep.”

“You would not wake,” Kai insisted.

“I think I had a pretty bad fever.” That would explain the weird dreams and Sascha thinking for that brief moment he was a child again.

Kai gave one decisive nod. “You clung to me, shivering, and then pushed me away, sweating. You wouldn’t wake,” he repeated.

Damn. His intensity sure wasn’t lightening any. Sascha looked around hopefully for another water glass, pouting a bit when his search came up empty. “If you were so worried about me, why didn’t you take me to the hospital?”

Kai let out a growl. “I’ve seen what human healers do. They would only speed your death.”

Sascha waved a dismissive hand. “This is modern America. That only happens half the time nowadays.”

Kai still didn’t give him a smile. Real tough crowd. Instead, he cocked his head toward Sascha’s phone, his expression unreadable. “I called for reinforcements. They have not yet arrived.”

The words took longer than they should have to penetrate Sascha’s fuzzy brain. “You…what?”

Like that had been its cue, his phone buzzed on the table, charged enough now to power back on.

Sascha picked it up. He had…twenty-seven text messages from Alexei? Plus quite a few voice mails. And almost as many texts from Ivan, but that was no surprise, considering how Sascha had left things the day before.

He gaped at Kai. “You called Alexei?”

The phone buzzed again, Alexei’s name popping up on the screen.

Sascha answered it in a daze. “Hello?”

His brother’s voice rang out, sounding harried and more than a little pissed. “Sascha? Thank fuck. Where are you? That asshole gave me the name of the town but not the goddamn address, then hung up and never answered again.”

Sascha rattled off the address on autopilot, his head still too stuffed full of cotton to fully process what was happening. All he knew is that he’d kill for another glass or ten of water.

Alexei grunted his acknowledgment when he was done. “We’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”

Well, all right then. Apparently Sascha was now going to be hosting his brother. His brother he hadn’t seen in two years. His brother who’d left—leaving Sascha behind—when he couldn’t handle Ivan’s shit anymore. His brother who still didn’t know Sascha had been stabbed, or that he was technically in hiding.

Sascha set his phone in his lap, trying to figure out what emotion to feel. “You called Alexei,” he said again.

Kai shrugged. “You said he was the better brother.”

Sascha supposed it was preferable to Ivan showing up out of the blue and demanding to know who Sascha’s new demonic bodyguard was.

He pushed the covers off him, giving Kai a pleading look. He wasn’t sure his limbs would hold him. “Can you—I need to shower. I smell like death.”

Kai’s brow furrowed at the last word. Touchy, touchy.

But he helped Sascha into the bathroom.

And then made no move to leave.

Sascha started toeing off his sweatpants, one arm clinging to the sink for balance, feeling too crappy to be even slightly self-conscious about it. His entire body was covered in a thin film of dried sweat, and he needed it to be off him immediately. He cocked a brow at Kai, who was standing stubbornly in front of the door with his arms crossed. “This shower isn’t big enough for the two of us, you behemoth.”

Kai transitioned into human form in an instant, arching a brow in turn.

Touché. Sascha turned on the water. “Fine.”

He watched Kai vanish his trousers while he waited for the water to heat. It honestly all had Sascha feeling a bit pouty. He had a superhot guy wanting to shower with him and was too sick to do anything about it.

Although, he did graciously allow himself to be bathed, instructing Kai on the right shampoo and conditioner, both of them pointedly ignoring Kai’s growing erection.

Kai even dried him off once they were out, using one of the fluffy towels to dry him and another, fresh one to wrap him in, like Sascha was a little kid or something. He paused there, hands gripping the terry cloth. “You’re healed now?” he asked Sascha, the words almost stilted.

Sascha assessed himself. He did feel worlds better after his shower. “The worst of the fever is over, I think,” he reported. “And I have some meds I can take for anything lingering.”

Kai nodded once, the weird tension he’d been holding seeming finally to melt, then led Sascha back to the bedroom. “Your brother didn’t get here fast enough,” he said, sounding decidedly unimpressed.

“Well, he lives in Colorado,” Sascha explained. “Plus, you forgot to give him the address.”

Kai stroked a lock of wet hair back from Sascha’s face, his gaze soft. “I would have found you if it were me.”

Oh. That was… Sascha cleared his throat, wincing at the lingering ache. “Yes, well, you’re a magical demon, so…”

He sidestepped Kai and that alarming promise, throwing on fresh sweats and an oversize T-shirt. It wasn’t the best outfit he’d ever constructed, but Kai had already seen him sweaty and incoherent and gross—he probably wasn’t going to be scared away by Sascha’s frump clothes.

Kai was still naked.

Sascha gave him a pointed look. “Can you clothe yourself please? Alexei’s gonna be here any minute.”

Kai hesitated for way too long. Was this some sort of demon power play? Greet Sascha’s brother naked as a jaybird?

But eventually he let out a put-upon sigh, then waved his hand, black pants appearing once again on his form.

They made their way downstairs.

Sascha would have liked nothing more than to go back to bed again, but Alexei had probably been freaked out enough by Kai’s vague phone call. He didn’t need to see Sascha bedridden on top of it all.

There was a pile of packages at the entryway.

“Those were left on your doorstep,” Kai explained.

Sascha’s new clothing, most likely. “Um. Okay. Thanks for bringing them in,” Sascha said, patting Kai’s arm and feeling more than a little awkward.

Why were things so awkward?

Kai shot him what was becoming his new trademark intense-as-all-hell look. “I left your side only to be sure it wasn’t an intruder.”

“Okay.” Sascha held his breath as Kai stepped closer, towering over him even in human form. “You, um, stayed with me the whole time?”

No one had ever done that for him. Not ever. And sure, maybe it was just Kai making sure his bargain—his ticket back home—didn’t break or whatever. But still. He’d stayed.

A knock on the door cut through the moment.

Sascha inhaled a shaky breath, letting out a laugh. “Time for you to meet the fam.”

He opened the front door. He only got a flash of an image—Alexei’s familiar face, eyes wide with surprise; the short, messy-haired man at his side—before he was thrown back, and then suddenly he found himself behind a wall of…black leather?

What. The. Fuck.

Sascha poked at the new barrier in front of him. “Kai…do you—do you have wings ?”

There was no answer, only a lot of growling, seeming to come from every direction. And yes, those were definitely massive bat-like wings in front of Sascha’s face. Not to mention the horns he could see poking out again from Kai’s head.

Fuck, how was he going to explain this to Alexei?

But every time he tried to peer around the leathery wings obscuring his view, they would shift, blocking him further.

“Kai?” he prompted again. “You’re kind of freaking me out.”

Kai growled again. It was a distinctly different noise from his sex growl. Low and mean and threatening. “Bloodsuckers,” he said.

Sascha nodded. Cool. That explained absolutely fucking nothing.

Then a chipper voice rang out. “Hello! I’m Jay. You must be the demon Sascha summoned.” Kai growled again, and then there was an answering growl from the other side, but the voice rose in volume to be heard over the din. “Alexei didn’t believe it, but I told him you never know. You’re very large, and those wings are super impressive. But I think Alexei would like to see his brother now. We won’t hurt him. We’re very nice, I promise.”

To Sascha’s immense surprise, the wings blocking him slowly lowered, and he was able to peer around Kai’s massive demon form to find Alexei, standing in front of his boyfriend, who was peering out behind him as best he could, an exact mirror of Sascha and Kai.

Jay—who Sascha had heard much about but never met—grinned broadly at him from around Alexei’s side. He was a tiny thing, dwarfed by Alexei’s height and muscles. “Hi! It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

“Um. Hi,” Sascha greeted back, too confused to muster anything else.

Then he caught sight of Alexei’s face.

It was a face he knew as well as any other, particularly Alexei’s hazel eyes, so different from Sascha’s or Ivan’s icy-blue pairs.

Except now Alexei’s eyes were black. And his teeth were bared at Kai, and those were not the teeth Sascha remembered.

His eyes widened, and he gasped, the sound quickly turning into another ragged cough. “Alexei,” he managed to get out between coughs. “You’ve got—you’ve got fangs .”