15. Cameron

Chapter 15

Cameron

I woke to a sound, 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 to leave ?” 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 to gauge 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.”

“Yes, my lord.” Zeek dipped into a kind of awkward curtsy then scurried out the door and was gone.

I glowered up at Deimos, too exhausted to hit him with the full extent of my anger. “You didn’t have to be so mean to him. He was only trying to help.”

He sighed wearily, moving the tray of food aside and propping himself on the edge of my bed where it had been. “Trust me, he actually prefers it this way. He’s a demon; he thrives on mean.” He set the familiar zippered case beside me and flipped it open. “I really hope this is the right stuff, because I don’t think my brother would welcome me back…”

I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. “What did you do?”

He shrugged like it was no big deal. “I may have started a fire to distract him while I slipped up to your room.” I gasped, but he was quick to assure me that it was more smoke than flames and that Phobos was able to douse the fire in just a few minutes. “He’s fine, the house is fine. Though he saw me on the way out, and let me tell you, he was none too happy with me.” Deimos, big bad god of dread, giggled like a giddy child. “You should have seen him running barefoot down the driveway in his tighty-whities, shaking his fist…”

He caught me watching him, no doubt with an odd look on my face, and he cleared his throat and got himself under control. “Sorry. Anyway, tell me what to do. I’m ready,” he said, digging through the case and pulling out an ampule and holding a fresh needle in his open palm.

“Y-You’re going to do it?” I asked, trying to back away from him. I felt self-conscious about this whole thing as it was, and I wasn’t at all prepared to let Deimos of all people in. I felt vulnerable and exposed, especially when he stopped my retreat with a hand on my hip, dragging me closer to him.

“Yes, I’m going to do it. You can’t even sit up, and I can see your hands are shaking. Don’t even try to tell me you’re fine to do it.”

He had a point, as much as I hated to admit it. “Uh, there should be alcohol swabs in there.” I drew back the blanket. My limbs were made of cement, and it felt like my fingers were little sausages. I pulled up my shirt, exposing my abdomen. “You’ll need to clean right around here, then pinch the skin and inject it just beneath the surface. ”

I waited, but he was frozen, his eyes locked on my stomach. “Right…” He prepared the needle carefully with steady hands, but his gaze kept flicking back to my exposed torso.

“Are you sure you can—”

“Yes,” he said curtly, cutting me off before I could voice my doubt. He blew out a short, sharp breath. “Okay, here goes nothing.”

I held my breath as he first cleaned the skin, the alcohol swab cold compared to his warm fingers. His touch was surprisingly gentle as he gave me the injection, almost tender, and he remained steadfastly focused on the task.

“There, all done.” The tingling sensation I felt had nothing to do with the medication coursing through me, and everything to do with the way he tried to smooth away the hurt, placing his warm palm along my ribs. He dragged his eyes up and over my chest until our gazes held, and for a second, I wondered if he could kiss my boo-boo.

For a second, I wanted him to…

I licked my lips, his gaze darting down to follow the path of my tongue, and my skin heated, but I couldn’t tell if it was a blush or fever. Deimos leaned closer, his violet eyes shimmering with some nameless emotion. It was intense— he was intense—but I decided maybe it was in a good way. That maybe he wasn’t a bad guy so much as morally gray, and maybe I wouldn’t mind falling somewhere in between right and wrong with him.

But the blush didn’t stop, it just kept getting hotter and hotter. A crease appeared between Deimos’s brows, and he looked down at where his hand still rested on my side. “Cam, you’re burning up.”

“Something’s wrong,” I panted, kicking off the blankets, until—my stomach revolted, and I scrambled for the garbage can in the corner of the cage. “I think I’m gonna be sick. ”

The world dropped away without warning, much like I’d been walking down a flight of stairs, anticipating the next riser, but had ended up stepping straight off a cliff instead. I was vaguely aware of the rug burn on my knees as I scrambled to shove my head in the bin.

“Did I do something wrong? Fuck, what is this shit you made me give you?” Deimos asked, an edge of panic creeping in. He paced, hands hovering uselessly over me, unsure of where was safe to touch me. “Should I call someone? A doctor or something?”

I didn’t know gods can sweat . The ridiculous thought flitted through my mind as the lamplight caught the beads dotting his face, twisted into a grimace.

I had to look away as a fresh wave of nausea knocked me on my ass right there on the floor, and I hugged the garbage can to my chest, the metal ice-cool to my burning flesh. It felt like my stomach was trying to invert itself as I heaved, but nothing came out but a thin strand of bile. I really wished I’d taken the chance to eat before doing this.

“No… don’t,” I mumbled between cramps, tears being forcefully squeezed from my eyes. “I’ll be… fine.” That remained to be seen, but Dr. Wells had said this was all to be expected, and I’d chosen to believe him—because what other choice did I have?

I’d expected Deimos to flee, like the prim and fancy god he was, but he crouched down beside me on the area rug, heedless of his designer suit. “Shh, you’re okay.” He rubbed a hand over my back in a slow circle, murmuring soothing words over my shoulder. Honestly, I was surprised he even knew how to be gentle like this, but I found myself leaning into him, taking whatever comfort he had to offer. I told myself he could’ve been anyone—his brother, my mom, the cashier at the corner store—and I would’ve felt the same relief I found as he cradled me in his arms.

Regardless of my increasingly complicated feelings toward Deimos, I pushed it all to the side. I couldn’t think about it now. When it seemed like the worst of the sickness was over, I allowed myself to collapse back fully against him, bracketed by his firm thighs as he sat, leaning back against the bed behind him.

“It’s over now, I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice sending a low vibration through me, and it seemed to settle my stomach further.

I blew out a breath, relieved for the break, my eyes falling closed. When I didn’t know for sure if this medication was working to slow the illness or not, was the risk really worth how it made me feel? I’d never been a gambling man, and this felt like the biggest bet of my life.

Deimos shifted behind me, and his fingers brushed across the back of my neck as he brought his hand up to smooth the damp hair from my forehead. There was a brief spark, like the release of a static charge between us, and Deimos jerked his hand back. But then something strange happened. A wave of clarity pushed aside the fog, and for the first time in months, maybe years, I felt like I could finally see.

“Wow, I feel… better.” I sat up experimentally, waiting for another bout of nausea, but everything felt more stable somehow. “What was that?”

Deimos scrambled to get out from behind me, kicking off the floor and leaning away like he was afraid to touch me. “What was what? Nothing. It was nothing,” he bit out, backing toward the exit. His face was tight, eyes shuttered, but the flutter of his pulse at his throat told me his heart was racing.

I sat on the rug, watching as he raced out of the room like his ass was on fire, so distracted that he forgot to close the cage. I pushed off the floor and walked over to the cage door, before slowly pushing it closed until I heard the latch click .

There was no chance I was leaving now, not when I needed answers. I felt better than I had in ages, and I didn’t think for a second that it had anything to do with the experimental drugs. My entire body was lit up like a firework—and that included my cock. It tented the fabric of my sweats, a damp spot appearing where my precum had already soaked through. Suddenly, I was desperately aching for a release.

With my mind still spinning from everything I’d learned, but more about what was still hidden in shadows, I lay back in bed and reached inside the elastic waistband of my sweats. If this was temporary, I certainly wasn’t going to let it go to waste.

My groan was guttural as I gave my cock a rough squeeze, and I told myself it was only natural that my thoughts would drift to Deimos as I stroked myself. I stared up at the camera mounted in the corner of the room as my breathing sped up.

I knew it was wrong, inappropriate, dirty, but… was it wrong that I hoped he was watching me right now?