Cass’s heart felt heavy and cold as Syrus stopped him in front of massive double doors; the carved onyx reached to a tall, domed ceiling painted with gruesome, bloody murals. He couldn’t bring himself to look up at them, shuddering as he reached out instead to a handprint at the center of the right door’s gilded designs. He sucked in a breath as he touched the gold- scalding against his fingertips. Gritting his teeth, Cass pushed his palm against the door, feeling old blood magic creep deep into him, chilled, sickening tendrils driving to his very soul.

Syrus’s hand was warm against the small of Cass’s back as he stepped forward, placing his other hand against the handprint mirrored on the left door. A strained grunt left him, the tattoos on his scalp giving a flickering glow as a faint light spread from their hands. There was a small comfort to be found in their connection as the magic clawed through them, assuring their bond to their master before the lines of golden light connected at the center of the two doors.

The turn of the heavy lock made Cass’s stomach sink, his hand quickly snatched back as the doors opened inward on their own. Syrus’s hand pressed against him, pushing the reluctant man forward a step into the freezing hall of their master’s throne room. His breath seemed to mist in the air for a moment as Cass let out a slow breath, collecting himself before he dared to raise his face.

His heart raced as he approached the raised dais at the other end of the long, blood red carpet that lined the center of the hall. Shadowed figures gathered along the walls and between the pillars lining the room. Cass refused to spare them any attention, knowing it could be taken as an invitation- or a slight to his master, who watched from his throne with cold eyes.

There was still a part of Cass which cringed, repulsed, every time he looked at that throne- though it had been two decades since he had been brought to his master’s mansion. It was formed of human bones, gilded femurs the body of its arms and legs, the foundation of the back spines arched unnaturally as if frozen in the agony of death. Jagged and fractured ribs fanned over the top of the throne, a grisly halo extending outward and shimmering in the moonlight filtering through massive cathedral windows. Skulls capped each armrest: one with blunt human teeth and the other with sharp, long fangs for canines.

It was massive, imposing… and yet somehow overshadowed by the primal fear which gripped Cass as the man resting on the black velvet cushions rose to his feet. Cass dropped to his knees immediately, his head bowed and one fist pressed to the ground; he knew Syrus would do the same next to him as their voices rose in unison, “We offer our greetings to our master, the Lord of Kamai.”

Their voices echoed in threatening silence for a moment before their master spoke, his voice dark and cold as he commanded, “Rise.”

Cass froze for a moment, jaw aching from the pressure of his grinding teeth; feeling Syrus’s gaze burning into him, he forced himself to his feet and met his master’s searching gaze. At a glance, Lord Emrys Ransley appeared unassuming; his slender build and unintimidating height gave him an appearance of fragility. His fine raven hair just brushed his collar, neatly pulled back from a pale face with delicate, androgynous features. Dark brown eyes seemed nearly black, outlined by thick ebony lashes, and held no overwhelming malice as they fixed on Cass with pensive calm.

Yet there was no denying the crushing weight of this man’s presence as he descended the low steps from his throne to stand in front of Cass. Slim fingers pushing under his chin to force Cass to raise his face, he inspected the young man with narrowed eyes. Leaning forward, the chill of the master’s breath raised goosebumps on Cass’s skin as it washed over his neck. “I have need of you… yet you smell of death,” Emrys muttered, his voice low and ominous in Cass’s ear. “Do you require sustenance so soon?”

Cass blanched, and though he did his best to keep it off his face, he knew Emrys could hear his fear in the racing of his heart as his nails dug into the soft skin under his jaw. “No, my lord,” Cass said, silently impressed at how steady he managed to keep his voice. “I am more than capable of any task you require.”

“And does your partner share your judgment?” Emrys asked quietly, his voice a hiss in Cass’s ear before he released his hold to turn to Syrus. 

The man stood unflinching, Cass always impressed by Syrus’s ability to maintain a calm façade. “I inspected him before I brought him before you, and it is as he claims,” he answered the master, his deep voice soft and respectful.

Emrys bared his teeth, his hand flashing up to tangle in Syrus’s hair, pushing up the auburn strands that had half masked his face. Cass’s heart dropped as it exposed the scarring that Syrus attempted to hide from him. Deep furrows were carved across his face, remnants of an attack so vicious it left his eye milky white and unseeing. Stomach twisting, Cass focused on taking even breaths, knowing any sign of distress would be an invitation for punishment.

Emrys met Syrus’s gaze, a deep warning in his voice as he said, “Remember your place- and who it is that will suffer for any errors in your judgment.”

“I understand the gravity of my words, and I stand by them,” Syrus responded, his voice only slightly strained. “Cassius is a loyal servant, and he is capable of undertaking any task you wish of him.”

For a brief tense moment, so quiet Cass could hear the whispers of movements from Emrys’s gathered shadows, it seemed like Emrys might disagree. His mouth pinched in a thin line of distaste as he stared at Syrus’s scarred face for a moment before shoving him away. The force of it pushed Syrus back a step despite his best effort to stay still, and Emrys’s eyes flashed. Cass held his breath, his nails digging into his palms once more- and he flinched when he felt a sharp pain from the pressure.

Emrys stiffened, his ebony eyes darting to Cass; in a movement so swift human eyes couldn’t track it, he was at Cass’s side, fingers tight as they yanked his wrist up. The descent of fangs dimpled his lower lip as he stared with restrained hunger at the beads of blood on Cass’s palm. Cass bit back a whimper at the crushing pressure of his grip, closing his eyes and turning his face away as he feared what came next.

A vampire’s tongue was strange- cold and dry, rasping across Cass’s palm to collect the blood welling from the small cuts. A hum of pleasure vibrated across his skin, setting his nerves on edge. Emrys’s grip tightened, grinding the bones of his wrist together, and Cass trembled as he waited for the driving pain of fangs ripping through his flesh.

The relief nearly took him to his knees when Emrys released his hand instead, stepping back as he licked his lips. “As warm as the day I took you in,” his voice purred over the words, and Cass dropped his gaze so his terror wouldn’t offend his master. 

Cass heard the shuffle against the carpet as Syrus stepped forward, speaking in low tones. “Are you satisfied with his condition?”

Shivering in the silence, Cass’s tight shoulders relaxed, his gaze raised as Emrys calmly stated, “Yes, I’m confident he can handle his task.” Stepping back, Emrys gestured toward the door behind his throne; ebony wood with brilliant red scrollwork, a room few souls had ever survived visiting. “Come with me, then… we have much to discuss.”

Cass couldn’t move as Emrys turned to open the door, his pulse still rushing in his ears. The touch of Syrus’s hand, fingertips warm with life, made him jump. Looking up at Syrus, seeing the silent plea in his gaze, he swallowed his insecurities enough to nod- and followed behind their master to hear the reason for his suffering.