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Chapter 11: Just Go With It

"Open it."

I rolled my eyes over the rim of a mug of coffee, sipping at the bitter liquid and hoping it would bring some life back to me. Taran had left me boneless and dazed. Or maybe that was the blood loss. I couldn't tell anymore.

"Go oooon," Laura pleaded, hands clasped together over her toast. "It's killing me."

"He said to wait for him."

Which meant this was a test, one I didn't want to fail so soon into our new, what to call it, relationship hardly felt right.

The innocent black box that had been waiting for me on the kitchen table might as well have had 'Open me!' stamped onto the lid. It sat there, in between my friend and I both eyeing it greedily, just waiting for me to take a peek.

It was tempting.

"What do you think it is?" I asked.

Laura shrugged, but there was a quirk to her lips and a shift to her gaze that told me she at least had a hunch. I just couldn't tell whether she believed this hunch was a bad thing or not. She certainly refused to touch the box like it might bite. Even I hadn't so much as dared touch it, but the curiosity. . .

"Well, it can't be anything nefarious, can it? It's barely the size of a shoe box."
And it was square, more an oversized ringbox than anything else.

Grey eyes glimmered with mirth, and Laura snorted, reaching across the table to pat my hand. "Oh, sweet summer child, there's no way in hell whatever's in this box is innocent; not if it's from Taran. Which makes me think you're holding out on me. . ." She studied me carefully. "I knew you didn't look like you'd been dragged through a hedge backwards just because of the attack. You had sex, didn't you? Oh my gosh, you did! With Taran? So then you know very well what could be rattling around in this box. And you sat and judged me for my tastes!"

She cackled as she drummed her nails in the air over the lid. My face burned so hot, I could feel the warmth spreading across my chest.

"I never judged you," I grumbled, not bothering to point out I could only hazard a guess at what exactly her tastes were, and that Taran and I hadn't really gone all the way.

The reminder of my escapades made my bruised ass ache, and I shifted uselessly on the chair. No sitting position was going to be comfortable today, but asking for a cushion when Taran had me sit on the hard wooden chair at the table would have given him too much satisfaction. More than he already took when I barely managed to swallow a hiss of pain.

He said he'd been going to report my attack, and as I was certain he didn't mean to the police - unless he was going to leave out the vampire aspect of the assault - it left me wondering about how exactly the vampire world coexisted with my own. Was there a secret division of law enforcement for supernaturals? The image of Draculaesque vampires in high-vis jackets stamped with Poileas nearly made me choke on my breakfast.

"Maybe it's a butt plug."

"Christ, Laura." Unwilling to hear more of her guesses, and maybe slightly terrified one might be right, I moved my plate of toast aside and dragged the box in front of me.

My friend grinned and leaned over the table, more excited than the nerves I felt fluttering in my stomach, as if I might open the box to find a dead mouse.

It wasn't a dead mouse, although it was something equally as terrifying - a circlet of leather sat on a satin pillow, a metal buckle polished until it shone on one end, matching the thick metal O-ring dangling from the middle.
If it weren't for meeting Laura, I would have questioned if Taran had given me the wrong thing by mistake.

"I'm not wearing that." I practically shoved the box away, stumbling over my words. "Wh- what happened to the silk choker? This is way less inconspicuous than a silk choker. I can't. No. I, no, is he serious?"

Laura chortled as she examined it herself. "I doubt he expects you to wear a collar all the time, Sorcha. And you should know, these aren't cheap; this looks custom made, black leather, and I'm pretty sure that metal is genuine silver. . ."

Where did he find the time and opportunity to make a custom collar for me? It didn't matter how expensive it was either; pets wore collars, not people. I might have agreed to submit but Taran certainly wasn't my owner as the letter T embossed on the leather implied.

"Offering a collar is very significant," Laura added, catching my gaze, her expression growing serious. "It's a promise of protection, of commitment and respect. Taran doesn't hand out collars lightly. In fact, I've never known him to go beyond offering his coloured silk to wear to stake a claim."

Was that true? If it was, it did make a strange warmth fill my chest, soured by a little jealousy at the thought of the others who came before me; others I was sure were better equipped to deal with this. They most likely new the rules. I'd been thrown headfirst into the deep end. But a small part of me still appreciated it, of being the first, as much as I was cautious of Laura's explanation of it being a commitment. Taran had made it explicitly clear that commitment wasn't part of our agreement.

But could I really bring myself to be collared? I couldn't figure out if I'd rather had never opened the box, or if it would have been worse to wait for Taran to face everything his gift brought up.

"As long as I don't go back to his room to find a cage at the end of the bed."

The words popped out before I could stop them, and Laura's mouth fell open. She recovered quickly, sharp eyes studying me with a sly smirk. "Wow, Sorcha, I didn't know you had it in you. On yersel!"

"What? No! I'm not, I don't. . .I'll leave that sort of mischief up to you."

"Liar. You think I don't know what someone with a skelped arse trying to sit comfortably looks like?"

I covered my face with my hands.

"Just go with it Sorcha." She laughed. "Then we can forget about it when this Frank business is all over. A cage isn't so bad really, by the way, I happen to quite like it. And I love when I get to wear my collar from Mac."

"I'm sure you do," I murmured. In fact, I wasn't even sure the butterflies in my stomach were fear and not anticipation.

What was the harm in 'going with it' for a few days or week? Hopefully none, however another question came to mind: what would life after The Blackbird look like?

"Mac's given you a collar, which means he's claimed you, right?" I asked, waiting for my friend's affirming nod before continuing. "But you wear the Blackbird sash too, so does he. . .does he make you feed and uh, do things, with other vampires?"

"He doesn't make me do anything." She rolled her eyes, emphasising, "Working at the club, and as a donor, is my job. It's work I get paid for. Technically, I'm employed by Taran, so I wear the sash as it's his business, but Mac's claim isn't business it's-" She bit her lip, struggling to find the right word. "-it's personal. Workwise, yes, I don't serve anyone he doesn't approve of, and more often than not, he's there to observe my time with other clients. If someone wants to have me, they go to him, and if they go to Taran, Taran then goes to him first."

"And then?"

She gave me a confident grin. "And them Mac comes to me. I get to decide who to accept of the clients he's approved. I decide what I'm willing to do with each of them. If I change my mind, even halfway through our transaction, it is respected. Anyway, to answer what you're really asking, I highly doubt Taran will have you kneel anywhere but at his feet. You're too new to all of this. He wouldn't want to risk you making a mistake that would trigger the wrong instinct, mistakes with vampires can be, well, I'm sure you can imagine."

I could. Vampires had a tenuous grasp on their control. I saw Taran fight it back every time I questioned, disobeyed or hesitated.

Or maybe that was just Taran.

He'd held himself back during my first punishment, hadn't let things go too far when I struggled, and even this morning his restraint had made itself known in the tense lines of his body as he'd licked blood from my skin. The fear I'd felt had been warranted, and had probably been the only thing that truly held him back from taking things further.

Mistakes could be deadly.

Which explained all the talk of rules and regulations.

Pushing the box to the side, I focussed all my attention on my friend. "Tell me everything. Everything you've wanted to tell me but couldn't. Please. Distract me from the fact I feel like a prisoner in someone else's home while my would-be murderer skulks around."

"Well," she began, sitting back and tapping her chin with a painted black nail. "Now you're in the know, we really should talk about finding some better charms to put around our flat since the repellent obviously didn't work. Kent that damn witch was too cheap."

Witch? Charms? Was she making a joke or being serious?

"And my date last year with that guy from Aberhaven who you said smelled like dog? There was totally a reason for that. " She grinned at my shocked expression. Surely she wasn't implying he was a werewolf? "Oh! And that weekend I went away to Ireland, that wasn't to visit family, I went with Mac to meet with another vampire leader-"

"Another? Mac's some sort of vampire leader?"

"No, not Mac, Sorcha." Her eye roll made me feel stupid. "How have you not figured it out yet? You were toying with the idea of studying astrophysics but this is to hard for you to crack?"

Of course. Not Mac, Taran.

Duh, a voice in my head scolded.

"I thought An Toiseach were in charge," I said.

"Think of them like the overall government, and then you have mostly stuck-up vampire-born nobles leading different constituencies who answer to An Toiseach; everywhere except here. In fact, An Toiseach don't have any real say in what happens in our fair city anymore, and certainly not about the goings on inside The Blackbird. That's something to ask Taran about though." She smirked, eyeing the box again. "I bet if you wait for him in his room with that on, you'd have him wrapped around your finger ready to tell you anything."

"Is it not supposed to be the other way around" I remarked dryly. "Me bending to his will?"

Laura laughed and patted my hand the way she had earlier, as one might a child. "Oh Sorcha, you really are a child of Summer, aren't you?"

"And you will have to wait to continue teasing Sorcha another time, my sweet," Mac interrupted from the doorway behind me.

I twisted to watch him come in to pour himself a coffee. He rolled his neck, probably to work off the stress of a long night. Laura immediately rose to go to his side.

It was like watching two people perfectly in sync, Laura's fingers lifting to his broad shoulders to knead at tense muscle, anticipating his needs before he could request a thing. She pressed a kiss to his arm which gained a gentle murmur, and then she was lifting her head to rub into his hand like a pleased kitten.

"Pubs closing so I'm afraid you won't be working here tonight," Mac said, his thumb catching her pouting bottom lip. I averted my gaze and took another, long sip of coffee as he finished, "You can go elsewhere for work, to a client's instead maybe, or you can have the night off. Since this is out of your control, and short notice, I'll make sure you're still paid if you choose the latter."
Laura let out a puff of air. "Bugger, alright. I'll have a think."

Mac made an agreeable sound.

"Why is the bar shutting?" I asked, daring to look at the pair again.
Dark grey eyes flicked to me and Mac hesitated before answering. "Because. . . tonight, as much as none of us like the idea, Taran will be playing host to some of the sitting members of An Toiseach."

"About me?"

He nodded.

"But I don't have to be there, right?"

Because the thought of standing before more vampires, and vampire government officials at that, was as daunting as facing the next round of inevitable nightmares that would plague me tonight.

Mac didn't reply, taking a leaf out of my book and sipping at his drink, however, that was answer enough.
Laura's features pinched, pale skin taking on a sickly green hue as she planted herself in front of Mac, all but stamping her foot as she said firmly, "No."

"Loz, I'll be okay-"

"No!" she repeated, spinning to face me, panic shimmering wildly in her eyes. "They aren't like Mac or Taran, or any of the vampires I've met. They're old. They won't look at you and see something they should be concerned about. We're food to them, Sorcha. Toys. Lower beings."

"Laura!" Mac barked. My friend stiffened as he came up behind her, his hand collaring her throat. "She has to be there. Wren witnessed the attack yes, but they'll want to hear this from her own lips to seek out the truth. They also need to see Taran has really claimed her.

"Yes, they're old, their emotions are much different to ours and they see the world much differently too, but they are not without empathy. They are the ones who stop vampires from hunting freely, who make sure humans live their lives without knowing of our existence. They won't be happy to find out a human was attacked and nearly killed out in the open."

A lump formed in my throat. These creatures sounded as terrifying as my attacker. From Laura's reaction, I was beginning to wonder if they would even care - there was no way my incident was the first or the worst - was that why Taran's claim was so important? To make me more important? Or was that simply to ward off others from trying to take a bite?

The lump in my throat grew until I had to clear my throat, only to choke when I tried to take my next breath. Would the pit in my stomach ever go away?

Taran was right, ignorance was bliss.

All those thoughts shattered when a similar choking sound came from Laura, although I knew better now than to interrupt whatever lesson Mac was trying to impart as his fingers squeezed around her neck. Lips parted, back bowed as she leaned against his bigger frame, there was a glint in her eyes and a tension to Mac's lips that revealed who was really in charge, or rather, who really held all the power. There was nothing weak nor even compliant about the way my friend lifted her chin to smirk up at him.

"If I choose to have a night off, you can't order me not to go with her."

He snarled at her words, the muscles in his arm bunching as his grip tightened so the skin of her throat went red and another choked gasp left her lips.
I stood from the table on instinct, fighting against the want to ease any pain Laura was in as her friend, and understanding that this was only between them.

"Move and I'll tell Taran," Mac warned calmly, his gaze surprisingly understanding as he glanced over me. He took one of Laura's hand and placed it over the one he had around her throat. "Show her what you do if you need me to stop."

Her hand tapped his three times, hard enough the sound bounced around the kitchen, much in the same way Taran had taught me this morning. I relaxed a little.

"Do you want me to let go?" he asked, an unfamiliar warmth of teasing in his rough voice

Laura grinned.

She's exactly where she wants to be, I told myself. How would I have felt if she'd interrupted Taran and I last night, or this morning? Furious.

A shadow at the doorway, and Wren came into view, lifting an uninterested brow at the scene. "What's going on in here?"

Ness bounced behind him to get a look over his shoulder, reminding me of a dog trying to jump to get a look over a fence.

"Nothing to concern you, go away," Mac grumbled.

Snorting, Wren stepped inside the kitchen and flung an arm my way. "If it's happening in front of her, it is my concern."

Flippant, but at least he was acknowledging my existence.

Concern twanged in my chest, foreign and unexpected. An echo of Wren's own emotions? Alongside a sickening sense of jealousy churning in my gut.
Mac smirked at him. "There's no need to get territorial, my friend, Taran was very clear no one is to touch her, including me; not even to discipline her. Does he include you in that as well, I wonder?"

I frowned. Why would Wren feel territorial when I could tell he hated being in the same room with me. He practically leaned away to put even more space between us.

"Don't poke the bear, Mac." Ness teased from the doorway.

Wren snarled, casting me a decidedly cold look before shoving past his brother to leave the kitchen. I had to grip the table to stop from trembling under the firestorm of fury that burned through my veins from the bond that bound Wren and I together; a bond that felt no weaker today than it had yesterday, pinching and tugging in my chest.

Ness sidled over and punched my arm. "Ignore him. He's grumpy because he hasn't fed properly after saving you, that's all."

Mac snorted derisively but ignored whatever point he was trying to make that only Ness seemed to understand, even Laura peering up at him then towards the door Wren had left through speculatively.

Was there something else on Wren's mind?

I stared at the mountain of crusts from toast on my plate and suddenly understood why I'd been eating like a starving man. It wasn't my hunger gnawing in my belly, it was Wren's. "Why hasn't he fed? Taran has donors working here, right? Like Cait?"

Ness shrugged as if unsure. I didn't believe him, not when he couldn't meet my gaze, instead leaning over my shoulder to snag the last piece of bacon from Laura's plate. Maybe he realised he'd said too much - it was clear Wren hated people knowing or being in his business.

I didn't need him to say anything else anyway. The night of my attack, Taran had asked Ness where Wren was, and he'd said something about Wren being with Cait because it had been a while since he last. . .well, he'd never said exactly what, but I could guess now.

Like I'd said myself, Cait was a donor, and everyone had been amused when I'd offered to help Wren instead, so it didn't take much to piece together the rest; it had been a while since Wren had last fed, and Taran had been angry with Ness' response until he'd added that Mac was with them, probably because he'd been worried Wren would lose control? The exasperation that had creased Taran's face hinted that Wren not feeding was a common occurrence.

You know what he gets like, that's what Ness had said.

I glanced back down the hall where Wren had stomped off to, rubbing my aching belly. It didn't matter how uncomfortable I felt, if I ate anymore I would probably be sick. He had to give in and feed soon, surely? It was no wonder he had looked more dishevelled than usual if this was how he was feeling. Taran had told him to feed last night too, why was he was refusing? Was he trying to torture me?

Obviously orders from Taran meant nothing to Wren. He didn't seem to enjoy the, how to put it, same preferences as some of the others here. Come to think of it, Ness appeared far too bright and chirpy for me to picture him demanding some human to their knees.

Giving in, I popped one last piece of toast in my mouth.

Mac finally released Laura who stumbled forward and rubbed her neck with a lazy grin, but the way she turned to face him was anything but docile. Steel flashed behind her pale eyes. Whatever look she gave him made Mac straighten his head and take a breath that puffed out his chest.

I knew what a brewing fight looked like well enough and I was sure Laura could rival my mother without having to smash priceless china.

"Kneel," Mac ordered, tone even, his stance authoritive.

Ness and I both froze in place to watch the scene play out like free entertainment, though I a small part of me felt we both should leave to give them privacy. Curiosity kept me in place. I wanted to see their dynamic shift from Laura submitting to her master to whatever this was. This was more like watching a couple about to go head to head than anything else. At least neither Mac nor Laura seemed to care they had an audience.

"No," Laura quipped back defiantly, flicking long black hair over her shoulder. Her voice took on a smug tone. "I've decided it's my night off. If my best friend is going to go before the biggest of the baddest, then I'm bloody well going with her!"

Mac's fury wasn't directed at me but I could still feel it beating out, irritation fizzing in the air around him. If Taran had looked at me the way Mac looked at Laura, like he was going to pounce and tear her apart, I would be trembling, not placing my hands on my hips and jutting out my chin the way my friend was.

Laura had balls.

"If it appeases you, even slightly, I'd much rather go as yours than on my own," she said.

His stormy eyes became calculating. "If it's your night off, you won't be going as mine, will you?"

"It doesn't have to be that way."

Silence followed Laura's meekly spoken statement, rising at the end with a glimmer of hope quickly dashed.
Mac's head swung away on a harsh breath.

I shifted on my chair. Now I definitely felt like I should leave. Rising to my feet, I twisted and shoved at a transfixed Ness' shoulder. He pouted at me and made to protest until I shoved him again and he complied with a huff.

The tone had changed. An audience was no longer welcome.

Before I left, for whatever Mac had done to cause my friend's head to fall forward, I gave him a glare. He couldn't meet my gaze.

Yup. The bastard had done something.

Now that I knew everything, maybe Laura would explain exactly what their fight was about - more than what I'd surmised already anyway.

I followed Ness deeper into the living area of the building, happy that the other vampires of the house were doing as Taran had said and were keeping their distance . .or maybe they were asleep because it was daytime after all. Taran had hinted at the fact he was used to keeping a night owl schedule.
Taran, who was taking a giant leap in our arrangement by giving me a collar, according to Laura. A collar I wasn't meant to know about just yet.

"Shit."

Ness turned with a lifted brow just before he let himself into what looked like a large living room. "Dè?"

"I have to go back." I groaned.

If Mac told Taran I'd left his gift open on the kitchen table, I'd find out too quickly how else he administered punishments. Another spanking? No, I imagined he'd introduce me to something new. Hopefully Laura was keeping Mac too distracted to notice. What did Taran want me to do anyway, lug the damn box around all day resisting the urge to open it?

"Already failed that," I muttered to myself.

Running back down the hall, I tried my best to be inconspicuous as I opened the kitchen door to tiptoe past the pair still frozen in a standoff. I skirted round the table to collect the box, flicking the lid back down to hide the contents.

"Sorry," I muttered sheepishly when Mac finally seemed to realise I was there, a low growl rumbling from his chest to send me scampering towards the door.

Laura snatched my arm before I could flee. "Don't be sorry. We're done here anyway, aren't we, Mac?"

Mac folded his arms.

"Aren't we?" she repeated sharply.

"Yes." He grunted. "Fine. Have your night off then. Do as you wish."

Hurt cut across her features before hardening again, pale eyes sharp as steel. I got the feeling this was very much far from over for either of them. With a huff, she slid her arm through mine, but a snap of fingers stopped her in her tracks.

She didn't turn to look at him but she cocked her head to show she was listening.

"You'll still wear your collar, a chaileag mhilis. Night off or not, before An Toiseach, you are still mine. I want you in my room before so I can make sure my scent is on you."

I watched her bite her lip to stop a smile, and yet, the mist of sadness still clung to her eyes. She looked back long enough to nod.