Bloodline (6 page)

Oberon trailed his fingers down the man’s chest and spread his palm over his cock. “Ready to go hard for me yet?”

Inigo caught a telltale twitch of anger on Micah’s mouth before he pressed his lips together.

“Lie back on the couch,” the king said.

The faerie did as he was told, and Inigo could see the effort it took to lift his limbs. Under the iron bands, his skin was red and inflamed.

“A small tattoo somewhere discreet.” Oberon squeezed Micah’s cock and ran his thumb over the head.

Inigo hesitated. “I don’t tattoo anyone who’s unwilling.”

“He’s willing. Aren’t you?”

The guy sucked in his cheeks, then gave an infinitesimal nod.

“A star. On his cock.”

Oh fuck. Ouch.

Micah tensed and clenched his fists, but when he tried to sit up, Oberon kept him down.

“Do it,” the king barked.

Inigo looked into the mute guy’s face. He wasn’t going to do this unless the guy agreed. Probably. The faerie nodded again. The moment the tattoo gun began to buzz, the king’s eyes lit up and Micah’s eyes darkened. Inigo kept his attention on the job.

“Hold still.” He always said it, but when he was tattooing a particularly sensitive part of the body, flinching was almost inevitable. Usually the moment he switched on the gun, if not before.

He chose a place on the side of the cock—which was rather lovely, not as big as the king’s but a perfect length and thickness, the treasure trail of black hair leading to it as enticing as any Inigo had seen—held the skin taut and started to outline.

Tattooing stars was something he could do in his sleep—well, not literally. He slept like the dead.
Ha-ha
. And talking of dead, he wished his cock would play dead. He rarely got an erection when he was tattooing. In fact he couldn’t remember the last time it had happened, but it was happening now. It had to be because these guys were faeries.
Didn’t it?

Micah didn’t twitch as Inigo worked on the star, but his body was hard as concrete. Everyone’s pain threshold was different. There were parts of the body that were more sensitive than others, but it had to hurt to have your cock tattooed. Inigo had never been tempted to try it for himself.

He finished the star, switched off his gun, and gently wiped the tattoo down. Micah’s cock twitched in his hand. He glanced at the guy’s face and saw he’d closed his eyes. The king’s attention was fixed on Micah’s cock, which had thickened slightly under Inigo’s persistent fingers.
Oh fuck
. He let go and stepped back.

“Dying, Micah?” Oberon asked. “Blood boiling in your veins? Poison shriveling your heart? I’m torn between hoping for pain and relief there is none. Perhaps I should request the vampire tattoo your whole cock and lower abdomen. You could have a dragon-bird to match mine. Why not? It won’t be fire spurting from its mouth but cum.”

Micah opened his eyes and glared at the king.

Oberon laughed and pushed him off the couch.

Chapter Four

Oberon’s shove sent Micah tumbling to the floor. The iron fastened to his body slowed his reaction, and he landed heavily. He’d never felt so weak, so ill. He didn’t push himself upright partly because he was waiting for Oberon’s command to move and partly because he wasn’t sure he could. He hadn’t expected the vampire to help him to his feet, hadn’t expected to feel that…zing of pleasure powering through the pain, hadn’t expected the vampire not to let go of his arm.

“What the hell was that for?” Inigo snapped.

“Because I felt like it,” Oberon said.

Inigo frowned. “Well, try to get out the other side of bed tomorrow morning, Mr. Grumpy.”

Micah stifled his sigh when Inigo removed his hand from his arm. He missed his touch already. Feeling attracted to a vampire was a mistake. One he’d made before and wouldn’t be making again.
But…

“Are you okay?” Inigo’s dark eyes were full of concern.

“He’s fine.” Oberon climbed onto the couch. “Get back in the corner and play with your dick, Micah. Distract me while the vampire does his job.”

Oh fuck.

“You sure you don’t want to give it twenty-four hours, just in case?” Inigo asked. “He might be writhing in agony in the morning.”

The vampire shot Micah an apologetic look.

“Any problem would have manifested itself at once. I want the tattoo done. Get on with it. You too.” Oberon scowled at Micah. “Get your hand on your cock.”

Shit
. Yet what did it matter who watched? Keeping Oberon satisfied was all-important until he’d figured a way out of this mess.

Micah had caught glimpses of disapproval on the faces of some of the courtiers when Oberon had brought him to breakfast. The king had torn a strip off the guards and ordered the portal in his room to be sealed, saying Micah was a long-banished faerie who’d made a miscalculated attempt to secretly get back into the kingdom. The looks of disapproval turned from the king to Micah, and he’d been ordered to kneel at the king’s feet like a dog to be fed scraps from his plate.

The only faerie who’d been told the truth was Cavan—the head of Oberon’s hunters and, as far as Micah could see, just as much of a bastard as the king.

“Don’t make me wait any longer,” Oberon snapped. “Do it slowly. And don’t close your eyes.”

“Not a good idea to close my eyes,” Inigo said.

“Not you, you moron.”

Micah let his cock slide loosely through his fingers, dragging his hand up and down. He kept his eyes open, but he didn’t look at the king. He fixed his gaze on the vampire, who was trying very hard not to look at him. As Micah’s cock thickened, he tightened his grip, pulling the foreskin over the top of his glans and then down again. Despite everything, beneath the resentment and anger, arousal hummed in his veins.

“Are you watching him, vampire?”

“Who?” Inigo asked. “I’m working. I’m busy. You don’t want me to give your dragon-bird three heads, do you?”

But the vampire was lying. He kept checking Micah out, and his already dark eyes had darkened further. Plus there was an unmistakable bulge at his groin.
So think of him and not the king
. Micah wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and tightened his fingers before he pressed down against his balls. With his other hand, he made long, slow drags the length of his shaft, the little blue star stretching and wrinkling under his hand. It hadn’t hurt exactly, just felt uncomfortable, but there was no way he wanted his whole cock done. A pearl of precum formed at the slit, and he rubbed his thumb across the top.

“Lick it,” Oberon growled.

Micah raised his heavy arm and wiped his thumb over his lips. The salty-sweet tang made his mouth water. When the vampire licked his lips, Micah almost smiled.
I can do this. It’s not so hard. Oberon makes my skin crawl, but the vamp’s kind of cute
. His cock hardened as he worked it, friction taking it further toward release than his brain could manage. He spread his legs and moved his hand faster, though the iron limited his speed, and he tightened his grip over the sensitive head. Heat pooled in his gut and began to spread. His heart rate quickened, as did his breathing.

“Stop,” Oberon snapped.

Shit
. Micah rested clenched fists on the floor.

Oberon smiled. “Too fast.”

Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

He saw the vampire’s jaw tighten and felt more shame than he had before.
You have no idea what’s going on here. Don’t you dare fucking judge me.

“Start again,” Oberon ordered.

Three times Oberon let him reach the point of coming and made him stop. Micah’s swollen balls ached. Working against the pull of the iron exhausted him.

“Get over here.”

Micah pushed to his feet and stumbled to the couch.

“I think I’ll have a cock ring made for you. An iron one.”

Micah glared, and the bastard laughed. His gaze slid to Oberon’s back, and his jaw dropped. The design jumped off the skin.

“I’m going to have to take a break,” Inigo said. “I need to sleep. My eyes might tell me it’s daytime, but the rest of me disagrees.”

“Time is different here. You’ll get used to it.”

“And I’m—”

“What?” Oberon snapped.

“Hungry. I could nip home and get a bite to eat.”

That’s not going to happen
. Did he not realize he’d never leave Faerieland alive?
Maybe I won’t either.

Oberon rose from the couch and padded to the wall. The mirror appeared again, and he stared at the tattoo. “Your work is good.”

“I know.”

But when Oberon turned away from the mirror, Micah swallowed hard. The outline had started to fade. The colors followed.

Inigo gasped. “What the fuck?”

Oberon turned his back to the mirror again and roared in fury. “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know.”

Even as they watched, the remaining colors leached from the king’s skin, and the dark outline faded until there was no sign he’d ever been tattooed. All that remained were faint marks where the vampire had drawn freehand. Oberon reached for Micah’s wrist, pulled him close, and gripped his cock. The blue star was still there. He flung Micah away, and he tumbled to the floor.

“What did you do differently?” the king barked.

Micah shot the vampire a warning glance and hoped he got the hint.
Lie!

“Maybe I added a little more of the contents of the flask to the blue than I did to the other colors.”

“Did you put ten drops in?”

“Ten? But you…no, that must be it.”

“Do it again.” Oberon lay back on the couch.

“I’m tired. You run the risk of me falling asleep.”

“You’re not leaving this room until you’ve at least done the outline. Get on with it.”

Micah watched as Inigo worked. The vampire had beautiful hands—long slender fingers and perfect nails. Were you stuck with what you were turned with? If you’d bitten your nails, did you have to spend the rest of your undead life with messed-up hands? Inigo’s eyes were outlined in black. He looked mysterious, exotic, and not like any of the other vamps Micah knew.

But he didn’t give much for the vamp’s chances of surviving this encounter with the bastard on the table.

SHIT, SHIT, SHIT
. Inigo could feel sleep creeping up on him, but he kept working on the outline, praying it stayed in place. He shaded, contoured, added texture, and Oberon didn’t utter a sound, never winced, never moved. He might have been asleep or dead. Inigo really hoped he wasn’t dead, because Inigo couldn’t see a way out for himself if he was. Faeries would tear him apart before he dropped his fangs.

There’d been nothing wrong with the previous tattoo. Oberon’s skin was a dream to work on, smooth and receptive, and the ink had flowed into the skin. Except the damn thing had faded to nothing, and he didn’t know why.

Every time he loaded his gun, his gaze strayed to a small spilled drop of reddish-amber liquid. A deliberate slip on his part.

He wanted to know what it was. It was obviously the blood of someone special. Maybe an ancient faerie king. Inigo was a vampire. Blood was his business, and a small drop like that wouldn’t kill him, surely. Well…he was already dead, and as soon as he’d finished this tattoo, he was pretty sure he’d be dead-dead, so why not try it?

He imagined himself as Inigo in Wonderland faced with a bottle saying, “Drink Me.” This was only a tiny spot. Before he could change his mind, he swept his finger over it and stuck it in his mouth. Oberon hadn’t seen, but his fuck slave had.
Shit.

Not shit. Wow
. He lifted the gun clear of Oberon’s back before he drilled the king through the table. There was an explosion in his mouth as his taste buds rioted, followed by a kaleidoscope of colors churning in his head. Inhalations he didn’t need to take made his lungs expand and contract more rapidly. If his heart could beat, it would be going wild, albeit on the wrong side of his chest. From the moment of his birth, when the midwife had stupidly declared he had no heart, he’d been doomed to be different. But this…whatever it was…
Shit. I need more.

“What is it?” Oberon turned to look over his shoulder.

“I…I have to have a break.” He no longer felt tired. He felt more alive than he had for a long while, and it was dark outside. The temptation to grab the bottle and neck the entire contents grew to overwhelming proportions in his head. Remembering what happened to Alice kept his fingers clenched at his sides.

He knew he was an idiot. That could have been rattlesnake venom. Maybe it was. But it had tasted divine. Better than that drop of blood he’d licked from Cavan, which had been the pinnacle of Inigo’s gastronomic adventures.

Wow.

Wow.

Wow.

The king swung to his feet and stalked over to the wall. The outline of the bird-dragon was clear and strong. At least for now. Judging by the speed with which Oberon pulled on his shirt, maybe he had the same concern that it wouldn’t last.

By the time Cavan and his cronies came into the room, the king was dressed and Inigo had cleaned and packed up his equipment.

“Put the bottle in your bag,” Oberon told Inigo. “It can stay in here.”

“But…” Cavan started to speak, and one glare from Oberon made him think better of it.

Inigo could guess why. Whatever happened here, whatever the outcome, there was only one person who’d get the blame.
Me
. If the tattoo didn’t stick, it would be because he’d fucked it up, not that there was something wrong with the mixture. There wasn’t. Micah’s cock still held the star. It wasn’t the color either. Inigo had used blue in the design on the king’s back, and that had faded like the rest. Maybe Oberon was going to arrange for the bottle to disappear from his bag.
Would that be my fault too?

“Find him somewhere to sleep,” Oberon said.

* * * *

He was hoping for a bed with no peas under the mattress.

He got a dungeon.

“What? No coffin?” he asked. He didn’t actually sleep in a coffin. No way to turn over, too tight at the foot end, and highly uncomfortable, aside from the fact that it gave him the creeps.