His Sire’s New Pet
By Kallysten
As Master vampire Alan returns from a fight against demons, he is furious. His Childe, Jeremy, acted foolishly on the battlefield and was hurt by a demon. For this, Alan will punish him, and Jeremy knows and accepts it, kneeling at his Sire’s feet as soon as he enters their lair. A human accompanied Jeremy home, however: his lover and submissive, Tyler.
Right away, Tyler claims responsibility for Jeremy being wounded and asks to be punished in his place. Alan is initially reluctant to bring a novice into the relationship he shares with Jeremy, but the appeal of playing with a new sub for a night wins him over – and it doesn’t hurt that Jeremy and Tyler look very pretty kneeling next to each other.
Will Tyler endure Jeremy’s punishment until its very end, or will it prove too much for him? And how does Jeremy feel about sharing his lover with his Sire for one night… or maybe more than that?
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Smashwords Edition
Copyright © 2012 Kallysten
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means mechanical, electronic, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior written consent of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
First Published 2012
First Edition
All characters in this publication are purely fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Edited by Donna M.
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The one good thing that could be said when Alan slid the key into the lock was that the battle against the demons had ended, at least for now. The night, on the other hand, was far from over.
Alan didn’t bother closing the door behind him, however much he wanted to bang it shut. Not only would the display of anger have been unbecoming and childish, but Jeremy would be there soon. If he knew what was good for him, he would be there very soon and on his knees as soon as he closed the door.
Still gritting his teeth, Alan stepped to the right of the large multi-purpose front room. He threw a look to the reading nook on the left, framed by two well-stacked bookcases. He’d left a book on the armchair earlier, hoping to return to it after the fight. He was always too wound up when coming back from the battlefront to go to bed right away. One good book in hand, Jeremy at his feet, that always made for a nice time. Not tonight, though.
Alan unbuckled his scabbard and set it down on what had once been a dining room table. It had found a new purpose when he and Jeremy had moved into this apartment, and this was now where they cleaned their weapons. A small basket at the center of the table held sharpening stones, pieces of fabric cut into strips and a small bottle of oil.
He had already wiped the demon blood off his sword on the battlefield, but he still pulled it free from the scabbard and examined the blade. He would need to sharpen it soon. Demon armor dulled even the best steel too fast.
As he started rubbing oil against the length with a rag, he could hear soft steps entering the apartment, and the door closing behind him. Still furious, he didn’t turn to look at Jeremy—not until he noticed the thundering heartbeat that was now the only sound in the room. Even then, he finished rubbing his sword, slid it back into the scabbard and set it down on the table before he finally turned around.
Alan’s gaze immediately focused on Jeremy, ignoring the human intruder for now. His jaw clenched. The medics had seen to Jeremy before the troops had returned to town and the bandage peeked through the ripped fabric of his t-shirt, stark white under green stained with dark red. The smell of antiseptic was unpleasant enough that Alan wanted to rub at his nose, but he controlled the urge and merely crossed his arms.
Earlier that night, Jeremy had smelled like blood; demon blood, which was normal, but also his own, and that was much less common, at least on the battlefield. Jeremy was an excellent fighter. Alan had seen to that, with hours upon hours of training over the past twenty years. Even before he had sired Jeremy, he had started sparring with him. He had needed to know how well Jeremy could learn, needed to be sure his new Childe wouldn’t get himself killed with some idiotic move on the battlefield.
It was one such move that had caused Jeremy to be hurt tonight. The blow itself couldn’t have ended Jeremy’s life. Only wood through the heart or a beheading would have been fatal. Just the same, sheer fury had flowed through Alan like blood when he had seen his Childe run through by a demon sword. Only he was allowed to make Jeremy bleed. Alan could forgive wounds received through no fault of Jeremy’s; he would not forgive those received through stupidity.
“Do I need to say the words?” Alan asked in his coldest voice, the one that echoed like thunder against the ice of a frozen pond.
At Jeremy’s side, the human started, but Alan still didn’t look at him. His full attention remained on Jeremy, waiting for obedience. Jeremy’s eyes dropped a mere second before he folded down to his knees. His scabbard stuck at an odd angle at his side, but he knew better than to try to get more comfortable now, and he crossed his wrists behind him.
Satisfied, at least for the moment, Alan finally turned his focus to the human. Tall and lanky, dark of hair and tanned, he seemed to be in his mid twenties. The way he stood at attention would have branded him as a soldier even without his military fatigues or the sword hanging from his hip. His dark eyes shifted back and forth between Jeremy and Alan, apparently unsure whether he ought to kneel as well. Interesting, but irrelevant when Alan didn’t know who the man was, or why he was there.
“Who are you?” he asked, and the young man snapped to attention.
“My name is Tyler? Tyler Corell? I’m a soldier, rank two in the second battalion?”
A sliver of amusement pierced through Alan’s anger and he raised an eyebrow at Tyler. “Are you telling me or asking me?”
A deep blush darkened Tyler’s face. He looked down at Jeremy again, as though hoping for his help, but Jeremy’s gaze didn’t lift from the floor—and a good thing it didn’t, too, or Alan would have added that to the list of transgressions for which he needed to be punished.
“I’m Tyler, Sir,” the young man tried again, with just enough self-assurance that the words did not sound like a question anymore.
Alan offered him a nod, as much for the better answer as for the ‘Sir’ that had punctuated it. He had always liked polite boys. “Why are you in my home, Tyler? I do not recall inviting you here.”
Again, Tyler glanced down. Jeremy must have felt his gaze because he shifted minutely, although he still didn’t look up or say a word.