Rise to Submit [Rise of the Changelings, Book 4] (Siren Publishing Epic Romance, ManLove) (18 page)

Ian nodded, but Mason could see how unfocused his eyes were. “I’m fine.”

Mason noticed Ian’s withdrawals weren’t as bad as Bryson had predicted—although the few times he did flip out were scary as fuck. He had never dealt with a drug addict before and wondered if that was normal. He was going to have to talk to Bryson when others weren’t around.

Resting his arm on the back of the seat, Mason settled back as Rick drove from the service road they had been on and headed away from town.

Mason was worried about Ian. The man looked like he was going to fall asleep any minute. Reaching over, Mason pulled Ian into his lap. The man looked stunned, but didn’t say a word.

He didn’t lie back and relax either. Ian sat there, still staring out of the window.

“Lie back, Ian.” Mason realized that when he commanded Ian to do something, the man obeyed. He knew Ian was terrified to fall asleep, and Mason was torn about what to do. But it was killing him to see Ian in such a fatigued state. He began to run his knuckles down Ian’s back in a soothing gesture, giving the man comfort all changelings craved.

Mason knew Ian was human, but he also knew, changeling or human, everyone craved touch.

Ian was fighting the drowsy feeling running rampant through his body, but his eyelids kept drifting closed. The lull of the truck and the darkness outside weren’t helping his plight to stay awake—and neither were Mason’s hands running gently over his back.

The man’s warm body made Ian feel safe, but unfortunately, it was so cozy that it wasn’t helping his plight to stay awake. He wanted nothing more than to let sleep take him.

He was so tired that all he wanted to do was close his eyes. His head was pounding and his eyes were burning so badly that they felt like they were on fire.

Voices began to whisper all around Ian, but when he looked up, no one was talking. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He had to stay awake—even if all he wanted to do was close his eyes and get some rest.

As he stared out of the window, trying to take his mind off of sleeping, he noticed that the shapes in the darkness began to take form, mocking Ian, laughing at him as the truck drove by.
Oh, god.
He needed sleep so desperately. Ian slammed his eyes closed and then quickly opened them, only to see more shapes along the back road.

He was going insane.

He needed sleep.

Even though Ian had been falling asleep, rest hadn’t been the thing he had experienced. How could he rest when Newman met him in his dreams? He was sleep deprived in the worst way, and Ian would give anything to fall asleep and just sleep, no dreams, no Newman, nothing but uninterrupted knocked-out-from-the-world sleep.

But Ian knew Newman was waiting for him. There was no way the vampire would miss the opportunity to torture him. Newman seemed to thrive on pain…Ian’s pain. The man was as sadistic as they came, and had proven it time and again with Ian.

There were some things the man had made Ian do that Ian would take to the grave. He could honestly say there were no limits a junkie wouldn’t go to in order to get his fix.

And Ian had no limits when he was at the bottom of that rotten, death-filled barrel. When he was going through his worst cravings, Ian would have sold his own mother to get another bite, and the shame of that knowledge would forever haunt him.

Mason shifted around slightly and Ian found himself leaning into the guy’s chest. The feeling was warm, strong, and so damn comforting.

“Have you brought me what I asked for?” Newman asked as soon as Ian opened his eyes.

Oh, god no!
Ian had fallen asleep. He stood there with his hands tied above his head, his body completely still. The quick rise and fall of his chest couldn’t be helped, but Ian struggled not to make it too noticeable.

The whip cracked and Ian slammed his eyes closed, feeling his skin breaking open and blood slowly dripping down his back.

“I asked you a question, human.”

Ian didn’t want to tell on the people he was with. They had shown him nothing but kindness. Dorian was with them as well, and Ian wasn’t going to do anything to jeopardize his brother’s safety. He finally had his brother back, and Ian was not going to ruin what they were starting to rebuild.

And he couldn’t let Newman get his hands on Mason.

* * * *

Mason quickly moved Ian off his lap, pushing as far as he could to the other side of the seat and into Freedman. “Rick, pull over. Ian’s bleeding.”

Rick hurriedly pulled to the side of the road and then turned in his seat. “How? You gave him our next destination, right?”

Mason nodded as his eyes raked over Ian’s limp body, the scent of his blood flooding the truck’s interior. “I told him we were headed to South Carolina because we wanted to get as close to the White House as we could.”

“He’s not giving us up,” Dorian whispered from the front passenger’s seat, his eyes filled with sorrow and pain. “He’s protecting us.”

“Damn it!” Mason growled as he pushed at Freedman until the human opened the door and slid out. “He’s not supposed to do that.”

“Too late now,” Rick said in a hushed tone. “All we can do is be here for him when he wakes up and take care of his wounds.”

Mason quickly climbed out of the truck, pacing the road. He couldn’t understand his reaction to Ian’s bleeding. Now that he knew he wanted the man as his mate, there should be no craving to lick the guy’s wounds and then bite him.

But there was.

Mason knew Rick and Sasha would stop the others from going anywhere near Ian. Dorian and Freedman would help as well.

But it shouldn’t be others who protected Ian.

It should be Mason.

Why in the fuck wasn’t Ian telling the vampire what he wanted to know? Why was he suffering for people he hardly knew? Not even the fact that Dorian was with them should prevent Ian from telling.

He walked to Bryson’s car that had stopped behind them. Bryson rolled his window down.

“Ian’s bleeding.”

“He fell asleep?”

Mason nodded as the werewolf medic climbed from his car, not saying a word as he crawled into the back of the truck. Mason wanted to shout his disgust at the way he was reacting.

Ian needed him and Mason had to run.

* * * *

“You will tell me what I want to know.” Newman slid the metal flogger over Ian’s back. The cold, hard metal made Ian’s knees shake, but at this point, he was beyond caring. He wished Newman would just get it over with so he could wake up.

It seemed even in his sleep he found no rest. Ian’s body was falling apart, making him imagine things and hear things because he was so sleep deprived.

But he hadn’t told anyone. They would only force him to sleep, and Ian couldn’t tell them why he had to stay awake.

But here he stood, so his plan hadn’t worked out so well after all.

“Maybe I’m going about this the wrong way,” Newman said right before he struck, his fangs sinking deep into Ian’s neck. Ian shouted, trying to pull away, but Newman’s fangs were embedded in his skin.

Ian whimpered when Newman pulled free and he felt the effects of the vampire’s saliva immediately.

But Newman didn’t stop there. He struck three more times, flooding Ian’s body with the aphrodisiac.

And then Ian felt his heart stop.

* * * *

“He’s crashing!” Bryson shouted.

Mason ran back toward the truck when he heard those bone-chilling words. He stood by the door and watched in horror as Bryson began CPR on Ian’s frail form.

Rick had to pull Dorian from the truck. The man was going ballistic, screaming and yelling and struggling to get to his brother. Benito and Miguel climbed out of Bryson’s car and hurried over, but there was nothing they could do but stand there and watch, just as Mason was doing.

Just watching—and feeling so fucking helpless that Mason wanted to kill the entire race of vampires.

“I got him. I got him,” Bryson said twice, and both times his voice shook with relief and fear. “His pulse is weak, but I got him.” The man sounded as if he was trying to reassure himself. “I got him.” The last statement was whispered as Bryson leaned back and they all waited.

* * * *

“You can’t escape me that easily, human.”

Ian was floating. His body was weightless as Newman’s voice came to him in bursts.

“Now, tell me where they are going.”

Ian reached out, trying to grab at the ray of colors all around him. The blue slipped by him, the green whooshed under him, but it was the red that wrapped Ian in a suffocating blanket. The wisp of color became heavy. The soft texture that had been brushing him turned to liquid, and Ian soon realized that he was drowning in a sea of blood, the skies an angry crawling black.

“Tell me, Ian, or you will drown.”

Ian tried to grab on to something to stay afloat, but there was nothing but angry waves of crimson splashing around him, pulling him under and then pushing him back to the surface, only to repeat the nightmarish process all over again.

He spat the blood out that he swallowed, but more soon replaced it, sliding down his throat, filling his stomach to full capacity.

“Tell me.”

Ian pushed himself hard, and then found himself standing in a rock quarry, the skies burnt red.

He felt someone standing behind him.

“Tell me.”

Ian tried to run. He tried hard to climb the large rocks and boulders surrounding him, but it seemed the higher he climbed, the closer he was to the ground, and Newman. It was as if his feet were moving, but his body wasn’t going anywhere.

“Tell me.”

Ian leapt, trying to make it to the top, and landed back in the sea of raging, dark crimson blood.

“No!” he shouted, but it pulled him under, trying to drown him.

“Then drown, you pathetic fool.”

Something wrapped around Ian’s ankles. The tentacles were slimy, but the hold was tight. It was tugging, taking him deeper into the depths of the blood-red sea.

He struggled to get loose, but then Ian felt a hand grab his, pulling him further down.

He broke the surface, although he wasn’t sure how. But he knew the next time he was pulled under, he wasn’t coming back up. “Carolina,” he cried, wanting to die for betraying the Rebellion group he was with. “South Carolina.”

* * * *

Everyone was silent, not a word was spoken as Ian murmured what he thought was their next location in a shattered whisper.

He had broken.

Bryson was frantically trying to stop the bleeding. It seemed Ian’s entire body had been sliced open. His blood was everywhere.

And oddly, Mason wasn’t reacting to it.

Not when Ian was lying there in a comatose state.

Fragmented.

Bloody.

Defeated.

And Mason’s heart just about broke in half.

Rick had pulled Dorian into his arms as his mate softly cried.

Benito and Miguel stared at Ian as if they had never seen him before.

Omar leaned over the backseat, staring down at what Bryson was doing.

Freedman and Sasha just stood there, their expressions inscrutable.

No one moved except the medic.

It was too surreal.

It was too damn terrifying to know that a vampire could get to them in their dreams. The night seemed to close in on Mason. He was numb as he watched.

“Fucking wake up!” Bryson shouted at Ian. “Fight him!”

Mason wasn’t sure what he was doing. His body seemed to be moving on its own as he leaned over and pressed his lips to Ian’s. He inhaled the man’s scent, and in that moment he knew why his beast had tried to get rid of Ian whenever he was at his weakest.

He smelled someone else on the man.

He smelled vampire.

Mason pressed his lips harder to Ian’s as he cupped the man’s face. “Come back to me, Ian,” he whispered softly against the frail man’s mouth. “Come back to me.”

Ian’s back arched off the seat as he screamed into Mason’s mouth. Mason held on tight, holding him in place as Bryson continued to work on the human.

“I’ve got you, Ian. I’m here,” Mason said in a voice low and filled with steel. He kept his hands vise-gripped to Ian’s face. “I’m here, Ian. Open your pretty eyes and look at me.”

“He’s trying to pull me back,” Ian cried in a pitiful whisper. “Don’t let him take me.”

Mason’s beast yowled loudly, and then Mason bit into Ian’s neck, claiming the fragile human, fighting the unknown attacker bite for bite. He wasn’t thinking, only acting on instinct, but it was enough as Mason felt the other entity being thrust out.

Ian cried out once more and then began to push at Mason, his small hands slapping and punching. Mason freed his teeth from Ian’s shoulder and then released him, backing away.

“What in the fuck did you do?” Dorian asked as he pulled away from Rick and narrowed his eyes at Mason. “He’s been bitten enough!”

“It was the only way to get him away,” Mason said as he backed away from the truck, knowing that it was his jaguar that had been in charge. He glanced at Rick. “My changeling beast acted on instinct.”

“His bleeding is slowing down,” Bryson said in relief. “I think Mason threw the other person out.”

“You smelled him?” Mason asked in astonishment as he glanced at the changeling medic.

Bryson gave a grim nod. “And it was acrid as hell.”

Ian lay there with his eyes closed, but Mason knew the man was awake. Mason’s eyes flickered to the mating mark he had left on Ian, and a warmth began to spread inside of him like he had never experienced before.

Ian was his now—his to protect, his to care for, his to love. Ian was just fucking his and no one—not even a bloodsucking nightmare—was going to take Ian from him.