Page 255 of Dragon Slayer

Val batted his hand away, clapped his own hand over his mouth, and toppled him back to the bed, straddling his bulky hips and pinning him in place. “Hold still,” he ordered, and reached for the vial he’d tucked into his belt. He uncorked it with his teeth, and pulled his hand off Mehmet’s mouth – only to grip his jaw, force it open, and pour the vial’s contents down the sultan’s throat.

Mehmet spluttered, and Val felt the quick burn of a few droplets against his wrist. But it was nothing. Pain, shame, fear – all of it had abandoned him, and there was only certainty, and only his own strength, as he held the choking sultan down.

Mehmet finally swallowed, and heaved a deep, gasping breath. Eyes bugging, hands scrabbling ineffectually at the one Val pressed to his throat.

“Burns, doesn’t it?” Val said, conversational. “That’s silver shavings, mixed into wine. Give it a moment to take affect: you’ll grow sleepy, and heavy, and want nothing more than to take a nap. You’ll feel very disconnected from all your strength – from the things that make you a vampire. That’s how I felt, wearing your collar, and chains every day.”

Mehmet wheezed, and bucked feebly beneath him.

“Here’s something that should spark memory, though. Remember our first night together?” Val ripped the silver dagger free from his hip, and drove it into Mehmet’s heart.

The sultan lurched, and made an awful, breathless sound of pain. Blood spilled out of his mouth, a trickle that ran down toward the coverlet. But he was still alive. Could still feel.

“Stay there,” Val said, and got to his feet.

Mehmet stayed – of course. He didn’t move, save to breathe in short, sharp jerks, panting, groaning.

“Now,” Val continued. He pushed up Mehmet’s kaftan, bunched it up around his waist. “This is just like old times. Like our first time. Remember, lover? Remember how I stabbed you with your own sword? I spent the whole night in the garden after that.” He undid the laces of Mehmet’s salvar – white silk stretched to their limit by his bulk – and tugged them roughly down. “And then you found me, and you took me back to your chamber, and you fucked me dry. I bled, remember? Just as you’re bleeding now.”

He unsheathed his sword.

“Ra-Ra-Ra-du–”

“Nuh-uh,” Val sang. “What did I tell you my name was?” He lined up the tip of his sword.

Mehmet’s face – colorless, bathed in sweat – was a mask of terror, mouth working, eyes white-rimmed.

“Say it,” Val said, almost sweetly.

He wheezed a moment. Then, finally, “Valerian.” And then: “Please.”

Val took a moment to look at him, sprawled out, half-naked, pitiful. Whatever gifts Romulus had given him decaying, leaving him aging, and ruined, and in pain. This was the man who’d tormented him. Broken him.

He gathered himself. “That’s right,” he said. “My name is Valerian. And today is the dayIfuckyou.”

He slammed his sword home.

~*~

An hour later, he dragged himself up into the little boat he’d left anchored just off shore, a wet satchel weighted with a heart slung over his shoulders. Mehmet would steal no more boys’ innocence. Never again.

He lay there a long moment, staring up at the blue cloudless sky, the boat rocking gently beneath him, the lap of the water echoing the pulse that drummed steadily inside his ears.

“It’s over,” he murmured.

There was no peace. But a quiet emptiness that was almost as good.

Three days later, Cicero ran him down in a patch of sun-dappled forest. Val was underfed, and tired, and he didn’t bother fighting. The wolf had a human with him, the man Malik with the Asian eyes, who’d been servant of Vlad. They’d raised a small army. Humans loyal to Vlad.

“Kill me,” he said, and offered his throat. “I’m done.”

They put silver chains on him instead.

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