Black Scar (7 page)

This was one of
those duties. Deegan asked him to stop by and introduce himself to Marcus
Steele. Deegan had informed him of the guy’s background, his grandfather made
it clear he wanted him to befriend Steele. Lucius didn’t do the friendship
thing, except for his cousin, Wolfram Vladimirov. He had stayed with him these
last three years and missed Wolf already. Even that friendship had taken ages
to cultivate.

Lucius knocked on
the bedroom door and when he heard a gruff affirmative, he entered. Deegan had
prepared him for the extent of the youth’s injuries, but when Marcus Steele
turned to face him it took all of Lucius’s intestinal fortitude not to show any
emotion. Marcus sat upright on the bed wearing nothing but gray sweatpants. His
arm lay in a cast and sling. He glared at Lucius with his one eye, defying him
to react. The bandages were removed from his face and the extent of the damage
wrought plain to see. He wore an eye patch, but surrounding it was mottled, red
and puckered tissue stitched together like Frankenstein’s monster.
Poor bastard.
The other side of his face
showed a handsome perfection that made the ruination harder to gaze at. A chair
sat by the bed so Lucius walked toward it. He held out his hand.

“Lucius Black,
Deegan’s grandson. I have just returned from an extended stay in Britain.”

Marcus looked at
him, then the hand, took it and gripped it firmly.

“Marcus Steele. I
am sure you’ve been told you bear a resemblance to Deegan.”

Lucius pulled his
hand back and took a seat. “Many times, we have been mistaken for paternal
twins, though I am a couple of inches taller and more muscular than either my
father or grandfather. You have had a rough time of it, I hear.”

Marcus frowned.
Shit. Lucius was no good at polite small talk.

“You think?” he
snapped, sarcasm thick in his voice. “I’m sure your granddaddy filled you in
with all the salacious and scandalous details, including my man-crush on him.”

Lucius shrugged.
“What does that matter? Up until a few months ago before I met Trevina, my
mate, I could probably match your depraved acts and no doubt surpass them. I
have done it all, with everyone and everything. You will not shock me so do not
bother to try.”

“Tamed now, are
you? As pussy-whipped as your daddy and Deegan?”

Lucius’s
always-on-the-edge control snapped, and he lunged out of his chair and clutched
his hand around Marcus’s throat, squeezing slightly.

“Do not knock it
until you try it. You are purposely provoking me. Why? Do you want me to pound
the shit out of you? Are you into that sort of thing? I can oblige. I have done
it before.” Lucius squeezed tighter until Marcus growled. “Your face is enough
of a mess. I can damage the side of you that is still pretty if you like.”

Marcus began to
laugh, as much as he could through his tightened voice box.

“Go ahead, do me
the favor.”

Lucius let go and
sat back down. Marcus sputtered and rubbed his throat. Lucius’s gaze moved down
Marcus’s body. His eyebrow shot up at the obvious erection straining against
the guy’s sweatpants.

“That exchange
aroused you?”

Marcus continued
rubbing his throat. “I was sporting wood before you even came in the room. Don’t
get excited.”

Lucius laughed,
something he did not do often. He sobered. “The Blood Lust?”

Marcus exhaled.
“Yeah. I’m in fucking agony.”

“I will offer my
blood, but that is all. The lust you will have to sate elsewhere. Mine is
taken.”

****

Well. Marcus had
to admit, Lucius was a big, good-looking son of a bitch, and resembled Deegan
enough to fantasize about the two of them together. The criss-crossed scars on
his cheek and the lines fanning out from his eyes showed a life that had not
been easily lived. His mode of speech sounded formal and clipped, as if from
another age. He would bet Lucius had many stories to tell. Maybe some snowy
night over a few beers. Lucius’s eyes were the same silver-gray color as his
father and grandfather. Marcus could see contentment; he sensed Lucius loved
his mate fiercely. But underneath resided a haunted look Marcus recognized and
could relate to.

“I’ll take you up
on the offer for the blood, thanks.”

“Neck or wrist,
or are you one of those who like to feed on the inner thigh?”

Okay, his cock
just got harder. Not at the image of him sucking on Lucius’s no doubt muscular
inner thigh, but Logan’s soft and lush one. He moaned.

“Sorry, that
wasn’t for you.”

“I hope to hell
not.”

Marcus laughed.
He was starting to like Deegan’s Quarter grandson.

“I’ve only taken
from the wrist. Better stick to that.”

Lucius stood and
then sat on the edge of the bed. He pushed up the sleeve of his sweater and
held it out in invitation.

“Go on, it is all
right. If when you feed the pressure in your cock increases, go ahead and jerk
off in front me. But do it with your hand stuck in the sweatpants. I do not
want a peep show. I only mention it because if you do both at once, it should
relieve the worst of the Blood Lust for several hours, maybe even a day or
more.”

“You’re okay with
that? I mean...”

“I have told you,
Marcus, I have seen it all. I should warn you, I might have a slight reaction
to you drinking my blood. It can spark arousal, but not always. And this is a
one-time offer. I’m not going to be on tap for you, understand?”

Marcus was stunned
at the generous offer and he had to admit, touched. “Yeah, I got it, thanks.”

Lucius leaned
closer, and Marcus’s fangs elongated in anticipation. He plunged them into the
thick wrist; the first drops of the blood hit his tongue, and his dick twitched
in appreciation. Lucius’s blood had a tantalizing taste of human with a dash of
Vampire to give it kick. It wasn’t better than Logan’s, just different. He
reached in under the waistband of his sweats and immediately came in contact
with throbbing, hot cock. He fisted it and stroked. He slowed his drinking to
savor the simultaneous sensations of the blood and the lust.

Marcus heard a
husky moan come from Lucius. He gave a quick glance at him and saw that his
head lay back and his eyes closed. He couldn’t help but glance at Lucius’s
crotch. The evidence showed obvious enjoyment.

Somehow, this
seemed more deeply intimate than any other encounter he ever had with a man.
But drinking Lucius’s blood did not feel overtly sexual. The sensation was hard
to explain.

Marcus’s thoughts
were filled with Logan, the vision of her rising naked from the sea. The
strokes increased in tempo.

Lucius leaned his
forehead to touch Marcus’s.

“Drink,” he
whispered. “Take and slake your need.”

The overwhelming
scent of vanilla slammed his senses. Logan? Marcus tried to turn his head to
investigate, but since he only had the one eye, he only caught a slight
movement by the door. He must have imagined it since she was firmly in his
thoughts.

With a slight
shrug, his attention returned to his feast. His balls tightened, and he blew
apart. He cried out and pulled his fangs out of Lucius’s wrist.
 
Lucius gripped the back of his head, holding
Marcus’s forehead against his own. Lucius seemed to be sharing his orgasm. Was
that possible?

Lucius’s body
trembled and shook in concert with his own. After a few minutes, he held the
wrist up to Marcus again.

“Lick the
puncture marks so they will heal.”

He did. At least
he didn’t tear any skin as he had with Logan. Lucius returned to the chair and
pulled the sleeve of his sweater down. The Blood Lust need had dissipated to
the point of almost non-existence.

“Let me explain
what happened. I did not think of you when you drank from me.”

Marcus nodded. “I
wasn’t thinking of you either.”

“That is certainly
a relief. When someone drinks your blood it is akin to a sexual climax, but not
quite. There is no release physically. I will tell you from experience that, to
drink and fuck at the same time, there is no comparison. There you do have a
physical release, and oh, Christ...” Lucius closed his eyes, and Marcus assumed
he thought of his mate. Marcus cleared his throat, and Lucius’s eyes snapped
open.

“Forgive me for
sharing your sensations. I could not resist. Being a Quarter I have not
experienced the Blood Lust at such a high level. I was curious.” He stood.
“Now, I must return to Trevina, as you see.”

Marcus’s gaze
slid to the prominent bulge in Lucius’s jeans.

“We have a bond,
Marcus, and not because I let you drink from me. Deegan made you, his blood flows
through both our veins. We are brothers.” He clasped Marcus’s forearm tightly.
A wave of sentiment roared through Marcus, and he clasped Lucius’s forearm in
return.

“Blood Brothers,”
Marcus agreed.

Lucius nodded,
gave his arm one last squeeze, and then let go. “We are that. Rest now. You
should be able to relax for at least thirty-six hours. Take care, brother.”

Lucius left the
room, and as Marcus heard his heavy tread descend the stairs, his throat closed
over in emotion. In just a few short days he felt more welcome, more part of a
family than he ever did with his Pack.

Chapter Eight

Logan sat in her
room stunned and in shock. What did she just witness? Marcus drinking from
Deegan’s grandson and masturbating as he did so! And Lucius intimately touching
Marcus—well, with his forehead. The contact seemed very private and personal.

Didn’t Lucius
arrive with a mate? Of course, she heard the stories of Deegan’s debauched
grandson and the swath he cut across the genders for his sexual pleasures. He
also abused drugs and alcohol, if memory served. Tristan and Deegan had been
very concerned about the path Lucius traveled on. The updates they’d received
from Wolfram Vladimirov on Lucius’s doings in the U.K. were cause for concern.
Somehow, the lad turned his life around when he fell in love. So why this
interlude with Marcus?

Logan stood and
marched down the hall toward Marcus’s bedroom. Pushing the door open, she
stepped inside. He sat on the bed staring out the window like nothing had
happened. Marcus looked more at peace than she had seen since meeting him a
week ago. Logan slammed the door and walked to the bed. Oh, blessed sea mother,
his face. She had taken the bandages off yesterday, and the mass of damaged
tissue on the right side of his face was heartbreaking to observe.

“What do you
want, Logan?”

She didn’t care
for his tone, and it angered her further.

“I thought
perhaps you would like company. Shall I read to you? Surely you have a
Spiderman comic lying around or whatever young lads read now.”

Marcus’s eye
narrowed, and his lips curled into a sneer. “A comic? Why not Stephen Hawking’s
A
Brief
History of Time
? Never mind, I’ve already read it. I’m not a wide-eyed,
mischievous boy you have to keep entertained.”

Logan heard a
wistful regret underneath the snarl in his voice.

“No one has ever
read you a bedtime story, have they?” she said.

“Who cares? What
story would they read to me, Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf? No thanks.”

Logan moved
closer. “You were never allowed to be a child, were you, Marcus?”

“What do you
care, Logan? I suppose the next thing you’ll say is for me to suck it up.”

Logan frowned.
More slang, no doubt. A modern Vampire term, perhaps? Then it dawned on her
what the phrase meant.

“Yes, accept your
fate, suck it up and grow up while you are at it! You are so young...”

Marcus shot to
his feet and sauntered toward her. He looked thunderous and dangerous and
entirely sensuous. Even his slight limp added to his dark appeal. Her gaze
moved over his impressive chest. Bands of sinew and muscles moved in
synchronicity with his sexy glide. Logan took a few steps in reverse until her
back hit the wall.

“You’d prefer a
long-in-the-fang Vampire you can sit in front of the fire and reminisce about
the signing of the Magna Carta, I suppose. You apparently don’t want a man
young enough to make you feel—anything.” Marcus slapped his free hand flat
against the wall by her head and leaned in close. “Or is it because I’m too
fucking ugly for you? Look close, Faepyre, ‘
the beauty of the
dream vanished, and breathless horror and disgust filled my heart’.”

The quote was pure Mary Shelley, right from
Frankenstein
. Logan gulped.

“Maybe I should get one of those half-face
masks, like the World War I sniper in that HBO show,” Marcus continued. “Or
maybe I’ll buy a great scary hound and live in a gloomy castle where I can
skulk in the shadows never to see sunlight or civilization again.”

Logan cupped his face. There was such a contrast
between the puckered, damaged side and the smooth, beautiful one. Marcus
flinched when her fingers touched his scars.