Page 1 of The Death God
Chapter 1
Gregory Acklam walked through the dark corridor of the cold basement until he reached the room with all the booze. The former owner had left a lot of things behind, including a room filled with a variety of bottles.
He’d never met them, but the real estate agent had said everything in the castle was included in the price, since the current owner was in a remote location and unable to come into the country to empty it. Suspicious? Yes. But that was why it was so cheap. The owner was looking for a quick sale, which worked in Gregory’s favor. Though, he believed the price had more to do with the risk of the building falling on their heads any second now.
It didn’t matter. He’d bought a fucking castle.
He grabbed a bottle of gin, uncapped it, and guzzled several mouthfuls before walking along the dark stone corridor.
He glanced into the room where they held Zidane. His still form was sprawled on an old, scarred table, the stake protruding from his chest.
Zidane was a fellow vampire they kept in one of the basement rooms in case of an emergency. He’d tried to kill them, so Gregory didn’t feel bad about it. He talked to him from time to time to let him know they were still there. He didn’t answer, of course, which was for the best. He’d never liked Zidane. Looked like a fucking fairy and acted as if people should be pleased to see him. They already had Prophecy in the castle, and one person with that kind of personality was more than enough. Unpleasant bastards.
He snorted and took another swallow, only to grimace.
Two months ago, Gregory had made a decision he wished he hadn’t. Seven years earlier, Orla, his maker, the leader of his coven, and a close friend, had been murdered. Iris, the new coven leader, had tried to pin it on Gregory’s best friend, Rufus. Gregory had been able to provide an alibi for Rufus at the time of the murder and therefore saved his life. Rufus had been sentenced to being staked in a coffin for seventy years though, and Rufus was claustrophobic.
It ate away at Gregory knowing Rufus was living his worst nightmare while Gregory was getting on with his life—or trying to get on with his life. He lost his will when both his friends were taken from him, but he couldn’t give up. Not until he’d gotten Rufus out of the coffin.
So he’d done what any good friend would do—offered Rufus up for an arranged mating with a person neither of them had ever met. Yup. It was the kind of friend he was.
Blood bonds were forever. There was no way out. From the moment of the blood exchange till the second you drew your last breath, you were mated, and Gregory had made sure Rufus got the gig.
It turned out the person Rufus got mated to was a psychic named Jaki who lived in a fucking asylum commonly known as the house of horrors. Or maybe not commonly, but it was the name it went under in this house. Castle. It wasn’t a house; it was a castle, and they owned it because Gregory had panicked.
He’d believed he’d lose Rufus again, so he’d sold everything he owned. Then he’d sold everything Rufus owned. The home he loved, all things with monetary value, and his backup home. Rufus was careful like that. He always had a backup plan for everything, aliases for aliases, and places he could move to should his home get compromised. Not now though, since Gregory had sold everything.
Yeah. That was the kind of friend Gregory was. The kind who set you up for arranged matings and sold everything you owned.
Rufus took it in stride. He might have grumbled about the fucking castle, and he might have been right, but when did you ever get a chance to buy a castle? It was a once-in-a-lifetime thing even for a vampire who, essentially, could live forever.
Had they still had any money, they could’ve blown everything out and fixed it up. It could’ve been lovely.
Now they’d settled to make sure all rooms had intact windows.
He took another swallow of gin.
“Having a good day, Zidane?” He watched for a flicker of life, a sign he’d heard him, but there was none. Being staked left you aware but unable to move or feel. Gregory could cut his hand off, and Zidane wouldn’t feel a thing.
He walked into the room, took another gulp from the bottle, and stroked his hand over Zidane’s eyelids. He looked into forest green eyes—because of course they were forest green. The only thing missing from Zidane living a real-life Lord of the Rings movie was pointed ears. The eyes didn’t move, but Gregory knew from experience he could see and hear him, and his brain worked as effectively as it did when not staked.
“Yeah, me either.” He took another swallow of gin. “I’d offer you a drink, or maybe not, since you tried to kill us.”
He leaned against the cool stone wall and closed his eyes. He couldn’t go on like this. He skipped meals, and he wasn’t sleeping. All he wanted to do was grab Thanatos and carry him to his bed. Except, he fucking hated Thanatos. There was no creepier man than Thanatos the death god.
When things had gone south, Iris had sent Jaki back to the house of horrors, so, of course, Gregory had stolen Rufus from the coffin he was in—because it was the kind of friend he was. He’d done it right after having sold everything Rufus owned.
They’d gone to the house of horrors to get Jaki only to find it empty. But since Rufus was bonded to him, they could follow the pull of his heart—not as romantic as it might sound—and they managed to locate Jaki. In a convoy of vans.
Rufus narrowed it down to two possible vans Jaki could be in, so they’d taken them out and grabbed all the psychics in them. Luckily, it had only been Jaki and three more. Minerva was okay. Prophecy was an ass Gregory wished they’d eaten instead of saved, and Thanatos…the death god.
He’d taken one look at Gregory, his eyes had gone completely white, and now he knew how Gregory would die.
Then, at the same time as they’d gotten hold of Zidane, Thanatos had been about to bleed out, and Rufus had begged Gregory to save him—because that was the kind of friend he was. Fucker. So Gregory had formed a partial blood bond with Thanatos, and now he wanted to kill him as much as he wanted to fuck him. And care for him. And keep him safe. And gaze into his eyes and say sappy things. Ugh.
He snarled before bringing the bottle to his lips. He swallowed greedily. With too little food and too little sleep, a bottle of gin created some buzz.
The problem was it had been two months. A partial mate bond should only last for a couple of weeks, and yet Gregory couldn’t be in the same room as Thanatos. He didn’t feel any different now than he had the moment the one-sided bond had slid into place.
