NecessaryDecision (7 page)

Kylar nodded in the direction of the large, black man and
the smaller man with almond-colored skin and wide, dark eyes. Eyes that held a
certain amount of fear as they flicked from Kylar to his father and back again.

“Yes, Hendrix, Job and I have trained together for years,”
Kylar said, leaving out the fact that they’d also fucked inches from each other
on more than one occasion. Job had the bunk next to Gable’s. Kylar had caught
him watching him and Gable together once or twice, but hadn’t thought much of
it. Some men liked to watch, and he didn’t really mind if he was in the slave
quarters. If he’d wanted privacy that badly, he and Gable could have gone into
the woods or to his home to find it. Sometimes it was even more arousing to get
off in a room full of other men getting off.

At least it
had
been. Now all he could think of was
what Job and Hendrix—who was one of Job’s regular lovers—must have told his
father.

“Oh? So you do know them. Excellent. And you know them to
be…honorable?” His father tilted his head, folded his hands over his stomach.
“Honest. Do you believe them to be so, my son? Or are they not to be trusted,
like most slaves?”

There was a trap there, Kylar knew it. There couldn’t
possibly
not
be, considering the look on his father’s face, that
expression of fury mingled with satisfaction. It was the same look his father
had always worn when he caught Kylar doing something wrong as a child—spilling
his milk or tearing a hole in the knees of his new jeans, the sort of thing any
boy might do, especially a were-panther boy whose body grew too strong, too
quickly for him to adjust to it. Awkwardness, clumsiness and injury affected
every were child to varying degrees. It was expected. Just as expected as
that—around their fifteenth or sixteenth years—the young men would start
sneaking off into the slave cabins or asking Old Wills, who ran the small Pride
postal service, to let them borrow his nudie magazines.

But Kylar’s father had never accepted any of the usual young
man’s follies from Kylar. He was always there with judgment, disappointment and
that look—that
damn
look. Now the sight of it sent a familiar shot of
fear and rage up Kylar’s spine, a sensation he tried to ignore. He was an adult
now and he’d made a decision, chosen something that made him happy. He refused
to feel ashamed of it. Yes he wanted the chance to tell his father on his own,
but if that wasn’t to be, it wasn’t to be. Either way, he refused to fall into
whatever trap Baron had set.

“They’re very honorable,” he said. Despite himself, he
couldn’t resist adding, “And I don’t believe that slaves are dishonest as a
rule.”

His father smiled.
Shit
. “Really? So you believe
they’re honest? Transparent in their motives?” His smile transformed to a
smirk. “But you would. Wouldn’t you, Kylar?”

Kylar said nothing. If this was some plan of Baron’s to
convince him Gable and Varek weren’t to be trusted, that they were deceptive
simply because they were slaves, he wouldn’t listen. Oddly, his father’s smirk
helped put him at ease. This was exactly the sort of thing he’d expected. At least
he felt as if he stood on familiar ground.

“Well.” Baron leaned forward in his chair. “These two
slaves—these two honest men, as you yourself have just told me—have come to me
with a most interesting story. Shall I tell you? Or would you like to hear it
from one of them?”

Kylar’s temper flared in his chest. With difficulty, he
stomped it down. “Whatever it is, I wish someone would tell me. I came here to
speak to you and to Mother. Can we please finish whatever this is and get on
with our evening?”

“Fine. I shall have Job tell you. Job?”

Job’s broad face paled. His eyes widened, and his hands
clutched at each other in panic. “Sire Grossman, I think maybe—”

“Job.” This time his father’s glare wasn’t directed his way,
but Kylar could still feel the heavy weight of it settling around his
shoulders.

Job swallowed and turned pleading eyes to Kylar. “My bunk in
the quarters…I sleep near Gable. Across from him.”

Kylar almost said, “I know,” but stopped himself. Instead he
simply nodded and raised his eyebrows slightly as if to say, “And?”

“Well.” Job looked at his feet. “A few months back Gable and
Varek were talking. They’re together, you know. They have been for a long time.
I mean, of course you know. Everybody knows, right? And they’d be warrior-mated
if slaves were allowed to take the—”

“Get on with it,” Baron snapped.

Job sighed. That pleading look came back into his eyes.
“Anyway, I heard them talking a few months ago. About…about you. Well, first it
was about Mercy and Caleb and Kerrick, and how they got permission to be
triple-mated. They talked about that for a while, I think, saying it was a
good—”

“Job.”

Job wasn’t usually like this, Kylar mused. Job was pretty
direct. Especially in the slave quarters when the lamps burned low. So what was
different about this? Why the circular route to whatever he was about to
reveal? Was it that awful?

God, he was starting to get queasy, and a heavy weight built
in his chest. He didn’t know what was about to be said, but he knew it couldn’t
be good. He already wished he could unhear it, could back down the long stairs
and disappear into the forest, grab Gable and Varek by the arms and run as far
from the Pride lands as they could.

“They said they wanted their freedom. And…after listening to
them…” Job gulped air and his next words came out in a rush. “Well, it seemed
like they figured the best way to get it would be to find a Pride-born who
would agree to triple-warrior-mate with them. That way they would be free.
They…it seemed like they decided on you.”

Kylar didn’t understand, not at first. For a few long
seconds—seconds he would later desperately wish he could relive, those last
seconds before his heart shattered—he didn’t understand why Job looked so
unhappy, or Baron so triumphant as he poked Hendrix in the arm.

Hendrix cleared his throat. He wouldn’t meet Kylar’s eyes
either. “I heard them too. A different night. I was in Job’s bed taking a nap
and they came in, talking about whether or not they could convince you to be
with them both. It was after…” He cleared his throat again and stared hard at a
spot on the wall. “You and Gable had already been together, but they needed you
to accept Varek too.”

Kylar heard the last words through the most awful roaring
sound in his ears. His blood was rushing way too fast through his veins. This
couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t.

They’d planned this? They’d—they’d used him?

An act, it had all been an act. All of his hopes and dreams
were the imaginings of a fool. His resolution to believe in love—no matter how
many pieces made up the whole—was the stupidest thing he’d ever done. Gable and
Varek had lied.
Lied
.

They’d used him. They’d lied and told him they loved him,
made him believe for the first time in his life that someone actually cared.
And not just someone, but
two
someones, two incredible, smart, sexy men
he’d been stupid enough to believe loved him for who he was. He’d come here
tonight to announce his impending triple-warrior-mating, and they
were…probably…laughing at him. Standing at the edge of the woods, watching him climb
those never-ending steps and…
laughing
.

No, they wouldn’t. Would they? They wouldn’t buy their
freedom with his heart. His hope. His dreams.

His love.

He looked up, not wanting to meet Baron’s eyes but finding
it impossible not to. He didn’t want to see the happiness in his father’s face,
the joy that he’d managed to stab his son through the heart.

But surprisingly, he didn’t see that, or at least not as
much of it as he expected. A little sadness lurked in those eyes too, a little
pity that only made the whole thing so much more awful. And it was that pity
that finally convinced him that it was true. That his father wasn’t simply
enjoying himself, taking pleasure from hurting his son… His father pitied him
for being a fool.

Baron’s gaze dropped to the floor and he dismissed the
slaves with a curt, “You may go.” As soon as the door closed behind them, he
turned to his son.

“Well. Now you see the kind of mess you can get yourself
into,” he said, rising to pace toward the fireplace. He plucked a cigar from the
wooden case and rolled it between his fingers. “It’s a good thing you have a
father with brains who can step in and prevent you from making these ridiculous
mistakes. For heaven’s sake, Kylar, what were you thinking? Did you really
think two slaves were going to love you?”

Kylar swallowed and forced a smile. “Of course not, Father.
Why would anyone love me?”

Baron snorted and reached for his cigar clip. “Don’t be a
self-indulgent fool. You should have known they had ulterior motives from the
start. You’ve made the entire family look ridiculous. You’re a Grossman. And
still, you planned to stoop so low as to take two mongrel Unfree into your home
and give them your name.”

“And what a name it is…” Kylar felt as if he were floating
above his body. Even his father’s hard stare couldn’t seem to bring him back
down to earth. He didn’t want to hit the ground again, didn’t want to be forced
to acknowledge that his dreams were crumbling all around him.

“I knew you were capable of some amazingly stupid behavior,”
his father said, snatching his lighter from the mantel with an angry flick of
his wrist. “But this really takes the cake.”

“How did you find out? Did Hendrix and Job—”

“You moved them into your home. How did you think I
wouldn’t
find out?” Baron shook his head in disgust. “I heard about you and the slaves,
and I asked the appropriate people the appropriate questions.”

“You went digging for gossip about them.”

“Of course I did! What was I supposed to do?” he asked,
lighting his cigar and puffing for a moment before straightening to his full
height. “If I’d let you blunder into a mating like that you would have brought
shame on the entire Pride. You’ve already ruined our name. How could you carry
on like that in front of everyone? Sucking some slave’s filthy cock in public?
If I’d allowed you continue acting in such a fashion the Elders would never
have—”

“You don’t
allow
me to do anything, Father. I’m a
grown man. What I choose to do is my own business.”

“Not when it concerns our family, our family name! How must
your mother feel that—”

“When is the last time Mother felt anything?” Kylar asked,
his anger becoming a quiet storm inside his chest that would not be pushed
away. This was it, the time to speak his truth. It had been building for years.
“You drove all feeling from her years ago. You stole her hope or happiness in
the name of what? Your family name? It’s just…a name, Father. What’s important
is the family who bears it.”

Baron’s eyes flashed. For a moment it looked almost as
though he would start the Change and challenge his son to a full fight. Kylar’s
body tensed, a part of him hoping his father would make this physical. A
physical fight would be so much easier than this verbal attack.

But Baron didn’t shift into his cat form, he continued to
use his very cruel, very human words. “Well, one of us has to care about our
standing in the Pride. Maybe if you cared more about your reputation you
wouldn’t have been outwitted by a couple of tight-assed Unfree sluts.”

The last of Kylar’s fight seeped out of him. Even knowing
his father spoke the truth, hearing him talk that way about the men he’d
loved—that he
still
loved—ended any hope for an amicable end.

“At least I have feelings,” he said quietly, with as much
dignity as he could summon. “I do the best I can. But if I’m such a blight on
the family name, consider me out of it. You can mark me out of the family
Bible.”

Baron’s eyes widened and he started to stand up. “Now hold
on a minute, that’s not—”

“I don’t care what it is.” He had to get out of there. If he
stayed any longer he was going to attack his father, and the thought shamed him
far more effectively than any of Baron’s words had done. The only thing worse
than Baron winning was giving him the satisfaction of seeing Kylar lose the
last of his control. “It just is. Goodbye…Baron.”

Quickly, before he could be stopped or stop himself, he left
the room, ran past his mother and out the door. Running for home.

If only he knew what he would find when he got there.

Chapter Six

Varek checked the clock again, and Gable laughed softly.
“It’s barely been an hour. We can’t expect him to walk in, announce he’s going
to be triple-warrior-mated, have a celebratory drink and run back out. You know
it’s going to be awhile yet.”

Varek shook his head. The uneasy feeling in his chest had
started the second Kylar left them in the woods and had only gotten worse
since. Kylar had been gone only an hour. It felt like a lifetime. “I’m just
worried.”

“I know. Me too.” Gable scooted closer to him on the couch.
The heat of his body against Varek’s felt good, but didn’t ease the tight
feeling in his chest. “I’m worried about him too.”

“I just wish he’d let one of us go with him. The thought of
him in there alone… I can just imagine what his father must be saying about
us…and about his own son.” His voice cracked. Any other time, with any other
man, he might have been embarrassed by the unshed tears stinging his eyes, but
not with Gable. And especially not when it came to Kylar. “He shouldn’t have to
do that alone.”

“He’s not alone anymore,” Gable reminded him, wrapping his
arm around Varek’s shoulders and snuggling into him. “He has us now, and you
know we make him happy. We’re going to keep making him happy. Today and every
day after that.”