Page 36 of The Chosen Son

Cameron’s hair was damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead, and his skin was pale enough to make the light scattering of freckles stand out where they dusted across his cheekbones. “My injection… it’s supposed to stop the disease from getting worse.”

“Okay, that sounds easy. Where do I get it?” I rose from the chair.

He shook his head. “It’s in my room. In the nightstand drawer.”

Oh. Shit. “In Phobos’s mansion. Because you live with my brother,” I clarified, and he nodded. Well, this wouldn’t be quite as easy asrunning to the pharmacy to pick up some over-the-counter pills, but I would make it happen. “Sure. Yeah. I’ll be right back.”

I just hoped I would still be in one piece.

Chapter 15

Cameron

I woke to asound, the unlatching of a lock, a knob turned, squeal of hinges as a door was opened, but I didn’t open my eyes. I wasn’t sure how long I’d slept, but I knew I wasn’t ready to get up. I drew in a deep breath, the clean scent of laundry detergent a soothing balance to my stale-sweat body odor.

At least Deimos seems to be a better housekeeper than his brother.

Someone cleared their throat, but it wasn’t Deimos. “Uh, pardon me, Master Cameron?”

That surprised me into peeking at the short, stocky man hovering on the other side of the bars. He was a strange-looking man, like an oversized garden gnome wearing an ill-fitting skin suit. “I’m not your master,” I said, my voice gritty. “Just Cameron is fine.”

His face scrunched up in confusion. “But… Deimos says you are our guest and I am to cater to your needs.”

I huffed a laugh. “And if I asked you to let me out of this cage?”

“You wish toleave?” His protruding eyes seemed to pop a little in panic. The poor guy, he looked like he was about to cry. “But… but…”

“Don’t worry, it was a hypothetical question. I’m not going anywhere. Couldn’t even if I wanted to.” My eyelids were heavy, tempting me to return to sleep. Unfortunately, the man had other plans.

“Mast—er, Mr. Cameron, I have brought food. You must eat. Humans require sustenance, and you are human, therefore you must eat.”

I grunted, the edges of my consciousness getting blurry, sleep dragging me back down into its clutches. “Not hungry,” I mumbled.

He made a squeaky sound of distress. “No, no! I cannot let anything bad befall you while you are in my care or Master will be most vexed. And then he will punish me and—”

“Okay, okay,” I said vaguely. “Just leave the food, and I promise I’ll eat it.” There was no chance he was going to let me sleep, was there.

There was a high-pitched sound like from one of those old-fashioned kettles, and I swore there was steam coming out of his ears, his face turning an unsettling shade of purple. I struggled to sit up, hands out in a calming gesture. “Whoa, hey, it’s okay. I’ll eat, I’ll eat!” That seemed to appease him, as his color returned to the only slightly more natural silly-putty shade it had been before, and he unlocked the door to the cage and brought the tray of food in, setting it on the bed beside me.

My eyes slid to the open door. If I’d been feeling better, this would’ve been my chance to escape, but I hesitated. It wasn’t like I felt my life was in danger here. Deimos wasn’t going to hurt me, and quite honestly, this bed was way more comfortable than the one at Phobos’s house. And the food was better too. This was more like a holiday than a hostage situation.

I’d lost track what time it was, or even what day it was. How long had it been since Deimos was here? Glancing at the plate, I tried togauge time based on the fact that there were pancakes. That must’ve made it breakfast.

“What time is it?” I asked groggily.

“It is 10am. I allowed you to sleep in since you were clearly fatigued, but it has been 12 hours without food or water, and I did not want you to perish.”

I bit back a chuckle. I wasn’t sure what kind of creature he was, but obviously not human. “What’s your name?” I asked, attempting to bring the tray to my lap.

He opened his mouth to reply, but the answer came instead from Deimos as he came thundering into the room, all darkly brooding and deliciously disheveled, his dark hair falling forward across his forehead. “Zeek! What the fuck, I told you not to open the cage!”

“I-I’m sorry, my lord, but he could not sit up to eat. I thought I would—”

“Handfeed him? I’m not paying you to think,” he snapped, stepping into the cage. His presence seemed to fill every inch of free space.

“You’re not paying me at all, my lord,” Zeek murmured timidly, curling in on himself, head bowed.

“And this is why!” Deimos snarled, looming over the smaller man. He waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. “Get out. I’ll take care of Cameron myself.”

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