ANTHONY
Lillian spearheaded procuring blood bags for the three starving vamps, reaching out to her contacts at the local blood bank that would be supplying the coven. Since vampires weren't able to get human illnesses, it was an easy way to dispose of tainted donations.
Owen led Freddie and Anthony up to the top floor of the building, where Charles Azarian had been staying with his sire. Despite there being ten large condos up there, he and Gabriela had allowed no one to live on the same level with them. Even with Charles and Gabriela taking up two condos each, there were still six vacant, nothing in them except the barest of furnishings.
Once up there, Anthony took over. He was the coven master's mate, and although this was technically the first day he had the title, he already took the responsibility seriously. These apartments on the top floor were the only ones in the building that weren't stained with blood and death. He wouldn't let Owen and the other vampires stay in the squalor below.
Freddie wasn't happy with him, Anthony could tell. He didn't trust Owen, and perhaps that was reasonable. But Anthony sensed that Freddie was operating on instinct. His mate had been injured, and his demon wanted revenge on the one that had perpetrated the offense.
As they stood in an empty apartment, the only furniture a few metal chairs, a table, and a bed, Anthony got a sense of just how bad it had been for Owen. The thin, stylish vampire kept going to the window, looking down on the street below, and Anthony could sense the anxiety rolling off of him in waves.
"He's dead, Owen."
The vampire started at the sound of Anthony's voice, his eyes darting around nervously.
"I know you said that, but…" He shook his head as if he couldn't conceive of the demise of his tormenter.
"I staked him myself." Anthony crossed to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.
In the far corner, he could feel Freddie tense at the gesture. His mate had been standing there glaring at Owen for the last five minutes, and his demon didn't seem interested in relaxing.
"Freddie, go help Lillian with the others."
Freddie's growl rumbled in his chest, and a frown crossed his face as he struggled to control the beast inside. "I won't leave you alone--"
"Freddie, the young man is blood-starved and weak, and he isn't going to do anything to me. Isn't that right?"
Owen shook his head, his shoulder-length brown hair flowing around him as he did so. His eyes were mournful and exhausted, and Anthony doubted he could stay on his feet much longer. He might be a vampire, but the man looked tired, and even a vamp needed to sleep sometime.
"See?" Anthony shot a sharp look at Freddie. "I am fine. The silly little stake didn't even leave a mark. You can't be with me every moment. Go and make sure Lillian has everything she needs."
Freddie's frown deepened, but ultimately he turned and headed out the door and down the hallway. Anthony brought his attention back to the vampire next to him. He gestured to one of the folding chairs.
"Why don't we sit down, sweetheart?"
Owen nodded without saying a word, but even as his feet crossed the dark hardwood of the empty condominium, his attention kept going to the wall of windows. Anthony knew he would have to tread lightly. He took the other metal folding chair, and they sat in silence for what could have been ten minutes. Owen's eyes stared off at the dull, unadorned gray walls of the condo. Anthony's gaze didn't leave Owen's face.
"I didn't use to be like this." Owen spoke without making eye contact, and he winced at the sound of his own voice.
"Like what?" Anthony reached over and put a gentle hand on Owen's thin forearm, and Owen's eyes snapped to Anthony's at the touch. At first, Anthony thought he would bolt, but instead, he took in a breath and relaxed.
"Terrified. Sad." Owen bit his lip, on the verge of tears. "I used to be fun. I'd go out, go dancing, I had friends."
Compassion stirred in Anthony's chest. This boy was hurting. Even if he was decades older than Anthony, he seemed like a boy to him. A little brother.
Or perhaps that was just the relationship of a vampire to the coven master's mate.
"What happened?"
"I met a man." He shook his head, looking down at the floor. "My ex. He convinced me to join the Azarian Coven."
When Owen raised his head, a single tear tracked down his cheek. His voice came out in a tremulous whisper.
"I thought I loved him. I thought it would be a home together. It turned out to be a nightmare."
"I'm sorry, sweetheart." Anthony smiled and squeezed Owen's hand. "You have a home here, if you want it."
Owen laughed, but there was no humor in it. He took his hand back from Anthony.
"I don't think the new coven master cares for me. I had enough of that with Charles."
Anthony rolled his eyes. "He's just being a protective grump. He'll come around, and there is no sturdier foundation than Freddie."
"I don't know…"
Anthony smiled, standing and walking to the large windows. Owen followed, although still skittish. Anthony looked out on the metropolis sprawled out in front of him. Ten floors up wasn't a great height, but it was enough to get some perspective. The lights lit up the city blocks in a comforting uniformity. The full moon hung low over the buildings, and the activity on the streets had that kinetic energy that Anthony loved about New York. Sounds of boisterous yelling and off-key car horns floated up to them from below.
"You are safe. Take a moment to breathe and to think about it. Get to know Freddie. We may be just what you need."
Owen stood there for a while, looking out, and Anthony could sense the turmoil in his thoughts. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and uncertain.
"I'll try."
Anthony yawned as he managed to put sheets on the bed in his new home. They'd been prepared to sleep on the floor, of course, but thankfully that hadn't been necessary. Charles Azarian's living quarters were a mess of bad vibes, of dark tapestries and ridiculous black crystal candelabras. He'd have to deal with that at some point. Gabriela de Aragon's space had barely been touched. Although it was creepy to sleep where that ancient monster had once lived, it was comfortable. She had a firm mattress perched on a solid king-size sleigh bed of dark, polished wood. It faced an astonishing view, a kaleidoscope of electric light and ever shifting shadow.
It was three in the morning. Usually Anthony and Freddie wouldn't worry too much about sleep, but they'd been pushing it the last week or so, and even a vampire body would surrender to exhaustion at some point.
Anthony was spreading out the comforter when Freddie came in. He didn't look great. Tension gripped his shoulders, and his furrowed brow marred his handsome peaches-and-cream complexion.
Anthony crossed to him, slipping his arms around Freddie's waist and reaching for a kiss. Freddie leaned down, pressing his lips to Anthony's, and at first Anthony could feel the stress in them, holding Freddie apart from him. Anthony held the kiss, wrapping his arms around Freddie's muscular back and squeezing. Something released, and Freddie softened.
There it is, my love. Anthony spoke into Freddie's mind through the mate bond, hoping that his care and admiration for Freddie came through as strongly as he felt them.
Thank you. Freddie sighed.
Anthony broke the kiss and gazed into Freddie's eyes. There was weariness there, true, but also a haunted quality.
"Can I do this?" Freddie whispered, barely loud enough for even Anthony to hear. "I'm not a leader."
Anthony smiled. His strong, silent mate always underestimated himself.
"You already are." Anthony took Freddie by the hand and led him to the bed, where they sat side by side. He leaned into Freddie, and Freddie wrapped his arm around him. Anthony luxuriated in Freddie's delicious cinnamon scent.
"It doesn't feel like it." Freddie breathed out, and Anthony felt Freddie's chest fall where he rested his cheek. "This place is a disaster. We have three vampires who are near to death, another five hiding out in other locations in the city, waiting to come back. And Owen."
The way Freddie said his name made it clear that he didn't approve of the vamp.
"Love, he was doing what he thought was best, protecting his covenmates from the return of the master who had left them to starve."
Freddie grunted and squeezed Anthony closer. "The sight of you injured…"
"I'm okay, Freddie." Anthony held out his arm. His olive skin, covered with fine hair, was blemish-free. "See?"
Freddie didn't say anything. Anthony could feel him brooding.
"You can keep me safe. You have, since the day we met. You'll keep all of us safe. Coven Grosvenor will be a place of security and community for anyone who comes to our door with good intentions."
Freddie stood up and began to pace, the heels of his black shoes clicking against the hardwood.
"I wish you wouldn't call it that."
Anthony watched his mate marching back and forth with the stunning view as a backdrop. The moonlight silhouetted his strong features.
"Will you tell me why?" Anthony asked, his voice filled with compassion. If he understood, he might help.
"I…" Freddie stopped, turning and facing the city like a lord surveying his lands. "I don't blame my father for rejecting me after I…after the death of my sister. But he did. Laying claim to the name in this way feels like a betrayal. And also…why should the coven be named after me? I'm no one."
Anthony stood, walking to Freddie and wrapping his arms around him from behind, his hands running over Freddie's hard abs.
"It is yours, my love. I can both understand your father's actions and still wish he had done differently. But the way he treated you doesn't take away the fact that you are a Grosvenor, and the name belongs to you, if you want it."
Anthony turned Freddie around to face him. Anthony hated the lost look that had taken residence up in Freddie's eyes.
"And we name the coven after you," Anthony continued, "as a recognition and a promise. A recognition that you are the most worthy vampire to be coven master. And a promise that you will care for the vampires here as your own family."
"I don't know."
Anthony stretched up on his toes to bestow a simple, soft kiss on Freddie's plump lips.
"You will care for them, and guide them, and lead them. Because that's just who you are. You can't be otherwise."
Freddie stared at Anthony, his eyes filled with wonder at his mate's words. He leaned down and kissed Anthony, hard this time, the hunger radiating through his lips. Anthony loved this Freddie, this strong, desperate lover. This was the vampire that made him weak.
Anthony broke off the kiss and sank down to his knees. He looked up at his mate, at the wanton lust that reddened his face and the bulge that strained against his black dress pants.
"Use me," Anthony said, himself already hard, his underwear wet with pre-cum. "Take your pleasure."
Freddie growled and put his hand on the back of Anthony's head, shoving his face hard against his crotch. Anthony could feel Freddie's erection against his cheek through the thin fabric.
Anthony rarely gave himself over like this. It was uncomfortable for him to cede control much of the time. But when it felt right, there was freedom in being the receptacle of Freddie's lust. The feeling of being taken, of being a servant to someone's needs, it was one of powerful belonging. This was his mate, and Anthony was giving him everything.
"Open." Freddie's voice was low and commanding. It made Anthony twitch in his pants. God, he was so fucking hot.
Anthony opened his jaw, sticking out his tongue as a landing pad for Freddie. Freddie unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock. Anthony was always delighted at the sight, as if he'd forgotten how long and thick his mate's dick was. A bead of pre-cum formed at the slit.
"Are you going to be my little fucktoy?"
Freddie's voice was harsh, sending shivers down Anthony's spine. He nodded, keeping his mouth open and ready.
With that, Freddie lined up his cock and pushed Anthony onto it. Anthony gagged, the head stretching the back of Anthony's throat as it cut off his air. He was at his powerful lover's mercy.
Freddie took Anthony's head in both hands and began to fuck his mouth at a brutal pace. The sensation of Freddie hammering away at Anthony overwhelmed him in the best way. His whole purpose was to provide pleasure to his mate. He wanted to give everything he had, and so Freddie took.
"Don't you have the sweetest mouth, my little slut?" Freddie squeezed the two sides of Anthony's head as he continued to ram his cock into his throat. Anthony hummed, unable to respond as his brain threatened to go offline. Freddie's shaft moved back and forth in his mouth as Freddie's musk filled his nose. It was almost too much.
Just as Anthony thought he couldn't go any longer, Freddie pulled out and took Anthony's chin in his hand. Anthony melted into his solid grip.
"Stand."
Anthony was on his feet faster than he thought possible. All that remained was a need to follow directions. He shuddered as Freddie ogled him, the sly look of a predatory jungle cat.
"Bend over. Hands against the glass."
Anthony's palms went to the cold glass, and the air hit his skin as Freddie tore his pants off. He removed one hand to tug at his painful erection, and the sting of Freddie's hand hitting his ass cheek was immediate. He gasped.
"I told you. Hands against the glass. You don't get to come unless I give you permission."
Anthony whimpered at the instruction, but did as he was told. It wasn't long before he felt the shock of cold lube against his crack, and Freddie's thick finger invading his hole.
"Fuck, Freddie…"
Freddie chuckled, and Anthony's balls tightened at the sound. "That's what I'm going to do. This ass belongs to me."
Then there were two fingers, and it was so much and not enough. The burn of Freddie's finger wasn't what Anthony craved. He needed more.
"Please…"
Anthony's prayers were answered as the pressure of the head of Freddie's cock pushed against his ring of muscle. He gasped as the thickness invaded him, stretching him and filling him. It was so good.
Before long, Freddie was fully seated inside of him, and the desire was too much, too intense. Anthony stared out into the vastness of the New York witching hour. He could see the faint reflection of Freddie's face in the glass. Powerful. Hungry.
"Please, take what's yours. Move, Freddie."
The assault of Freddie's cock was paralyzing, and all Anthony could do was hold on. He was being murdered with pleasure, impaled on a weapon that brought shock after shock as Freddie hit his prostate.
Anthony moaned. He no longer had words. Freddie was relentless, claiming him, owning him, using his property to sate his desires.
Freddie's rhythm started to speed and become erratic, and Anthony knew he was getting close. He could do nothing but scream as the staggering offensive intensified. He was teetering on the edge himself, his release coming soon even though his hands stayed glued to the window.
When Freddie roared and the warm liquid filled him, his own body spasmed. It was like falling from a cliff, letting go and knowing that someone, something, would catch you. That despite all appearances, you were safe. Anthony shot all over the hardwood floor, sobbing with the intensity of it all.
Freddie slowed, but Anthony squeezed his softening dick. He loved him there, inside, stretch and soreness and all. When Freddie slipped out, Anthony whimpered at the loss.
His arms were shaking against the glass, the exertion wearing out his muscles. Before he could move, Freddie's muscular limbs were around him, and he was being lifted. Freddie carried him so tenderly, cradling him and setting him down on the bed.
He couldn't keep his eyes open.
"You are perfect, my mate." Freddie's words pierced the fog as he drifted off into oblivion. "I love you."