Orion’s Way

by DC Juris

Breathless Press

Calgary, Alberta

www.breathlesspress.com

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and

incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are

used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any

resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or

persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Orion’s Way

Copyright© 2011 DC Juris

ISBN: 978-1-926930-82-4

Cover Artist: Victoria Miller

Editor: Mason Lavin

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used

or reproduced electronically or in print without written

permission, except in the case of brief quotations

embodied in reviews.

Breathless Press

www.breathlesspress.com

Orion’s Way

by DC Juris

1

Malagan turned the page and sighed as he shifted once again in

his chair. There was just nothing for it. No matter how much he loved

the look of the old Victorian piece of furniture—with its deep red vel-

vet and hand-carved scrollwork—the thing just didn’t fit his tall, bony

body. He needed something bigger and with more padding. He shook

his head. He certainly didn’t remember the damned thing being that

uncomfortable when he’d bought it all those centuries ago. He’d have

to find a new chair soon, and he didn’t much enjoy shopping. Perhaps

one of the feeders could—he looked up from his book at the fledgling

vampire standing in the library doorway. “Was I unclear when I said

I was not to be disturbed, Marco?”

Marco bowed, long red hair cascading forward, hiding his face for

the briefest moment. “Forgive the intrusion, Master. Orion and I were

in the control room, watching Clay and Xavier, as you instructed.

Xavier gave his safe word.”

“And Clay?”

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2

Marco shook his head.

Malagan bolted from his chair and out the door, strode down the

hall toward the torture room, Marco on his heels. He’d suspected his

old friend Clay had been stepping beyond the bounds with his new

sub, Xavier, and now he had proof.

Orion was already waiting at the door, pacing back and forth like

a caged bull. His bulky frame shook with obvious rage; his normal-

ly soft blue eyes blazed red. “He has gone too far!” Orion growled.

“Xavier is mine!”

Was yours, Malagan wanted to say. Orion had failed to dominate

Xavier; failed to keep him. But this was not the time to split hairs.

Malagan yanked the door open, letting it slam back against the wall.

“Step away from him!”

Cane in his right hand, whip in his left, Clay swung around to

face Malagan as Malagan’s voice boomed off the walls. Blood dripped

from Clay’s fangs, rolling down his bare barrel chest, his eyes bright

red with hunger. “What the hell?”

“You heard me. Step away.” Malagan nodded curtly to Marco and

Orion and they moved to carry out his order, grabbing Clay by his

upper arms and jerking him away from the torture table—and the

screaming, thrashing mess that was Xavier.

Malagan went straight for the table, holding up his hands palms

outward so that Xavier could see he carried no instruments.

“This is my session, Malagan!” Clay argued, struggling to free

himself. “You have no right—”

“This is my lair,” Malagan said, keeping his voice as even as pos-

sible. Further agitating Xavier would only make it worse. He placed

his hands on either side of the human’s head. “Xavier, it’s Malagan.

I’m going to release you, but you have to be still and cooperate with

me so you don’t get hurt anymore. Do you understand?”

Xavier nodded weakly. His bottom lip trembled, dribbling blood

from where he’d bitten into it. Just a minor amount of blood compared

to the rest of him, and, despite the situation, the sight made Malagan

want to lower his head and lap it up.

Malagan worked the cuffs open and pulled Xavier’s arms loose,

massaging his wrists gently. “I’ll get your ankles now,” he murmured,

moving to the end of the table to unshackle the rest of the restraints.

He surveyed the remainder of the damage as Xavier sat up. Bruises

and welts, far beyond the severity of a normal session, covered the

young man’s rail-thin body and would likely be there for days, if not

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3

weeks. Malagan ran his fingers over the bite marks on the right side

of Xavier’s neck.

Xavier jumped and pulled away, trying ineffectively to fight Mal-

agan off.

“Shh,” Malagan cooed. He leaned in and licked the wounds, clos-

ing them. He straightened and turned to face Clay, blocking Clay’s

view of Xavier. “You are not welcome here anymore.”

“I’m his master,” Clay argued. He thrust his shoulders back and

stared Malagan down, chin raised in defiance. “He’s my property. I

can treat him as I please.”

“He’s not your whipping boy!” Malagan snarled. “That’s not

what a feeder is. You used to know that.” He laid a hand on Xavier’s

cheek—the only unmarred patch of flesh he could find. “He has no

right to treat you this way.”

“He asked for it!” Clay bared his fangs at Malagan and growled,

but it ended in a laugh that echoed around them. He slumped, shoul-

ders shaking with his apparent mirth.

Malagan frowned at Clay’s behavior. The younger vampire had

always been a bit of an odd ball, but recently Clay had become more

and more unhinged. “This isn’t funny,” he hissed.

In a burst of explosive, bloodlust-fueled strength, Clay straight-

ened and rushed toward Malagan, dragging Marco and Orion half-

way across the room before the men managed to subdue him again.

“He wanted it! You weren’t in here, Malagan, you don’t know!”

Malagan turned his head slowly, leveling a glare at Clay. He said

nothing, simply pointed to the top right-hand corner of the room. To

the small security camera he’d installed last week. “He gave his safe

word.”

Clay followed the line of Malagan’s outstretched hand, outrage

clear in his wide eyes and wrinkled forehead. “You were spying on

me?”

“What the hell happened to you, Clay?” Malagan whispered.

“You were never like this. You understood the lifestyle; you were care-

ful and considerate. You were one of the best Doms I knew.”

Clay shook his head, ignoring the question. “Xavier, come.”

Xavier made a little noise and pressed up against Malagan, grip-

ping Malagan’s shirt with white-knuckled fists, struggling to stay up-

right.

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4

Malagan petted Xavier’s hair. “You have a choice, Xavier. You

don’t have to go with him,” he whispered. “You can stay here, with

me.”

“Now.” Clay’s voice held a hard edge that Malagan had never

heard before, one that sent a shiver through Xavier and made him

respond. He slid off the table, landing on his feet with a groan of pain.

“I’ll protect you from him,” Malagan tried again. “You know I

will, and you know I can.”

Xavier looked up at him, and, for a moment, Malagan thought

he might accept the offer. But Clay snapped his fingers and Xavier

ducked his head, limping across the room to fall to his knees before

his master.

“Xavier!” Orion’s red eyes flashed with anger and bloodlust.

“It’s his choice, Orion” Malagan shook his head. “Let Clay go. He

won’t be back.”

Marco and Orion exchanged a long look, but complied. Clay

grabbed Xavier by the hair, hauled him to his feet, and pushed him

toward the door.

Malagan walked to the door, gaze following Clay and Xavier

down the hall. Neither man looked back, and Malagan wasn’t sure

what that meant, or how he felt about it.

“He has no right to do this,” Orion mumbled. “Xavier is mine.”

Malagan yearned to soothe Orion’s pain. Orion was right. Xavier

was his. They’d shared the blood bond ceremony first, willed them-

selves to each other. But Orion’s inability to give Xavier the domi-

nance and control Xavier craved had turned the relationship disas-

trous. Ever opportunistic, Clay had swooped in at just the right time.

Malagan couldn’t help but take the blame for that, in part.

Malagan had sensed the volatile streak in Xavier when Orion

had first brought the human to the lair and had suspected that Xavi-

er would be more than Orion could handle. He should have—and

likely could have—talked Orion out of the pairing. At the very least,

he should have put his foot down and refused Clay the right to take

Xavier on. But he hadn’t. And now... Well, now what was done was

done. Malagan spread his arms wide. “I’m sorry. There’s nothing I

can do if Xavier doesn’t want help. Even if I kept him, he’d find a way

to get back to Clay.”

“How can he want that?” Marco stepped closer to Malagan, his

body shaking with barely controlled rage.

“No one wants to be abused,” Orion spat.

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“I don’t think Xavier knows he’s being abused,” Malagan admit-

ted. He glanced at Orion. “I understand how you feel. I know you

love him. But I cannot force him to stay with me.” Just as Orion hadn’t

been able to force Xavier to stay with him.

Marco shook his head. “I don’t get why he stays with that animal,

even when you gave him an out, Master.”

“You’ve never had the will beaten out of you,” Orion murmured.

“You’ve never been coerced, turned, and used—forced to dominate

unwilling feeders under threat of death, beaten and starved to the

edge of death on the occasions when you refused.” Orion lifted his

head to stare at Marco. “You’ve never been so low that nothing that

happened to you mattered anymore.”

Marco shook his head. “No, I haven’t.”

And by the time Malagan had found Orion, the damage had al-

ready been done—his spirit had been all but broken. Though he’d

recovered in part, he could no longer stomach very many of his for-

mer kinks, and he absolutely could not wield any sort of power over

another. Malagan laid a hand on Orion’s shoulder. “That was many

years ago. Things are different now.”

Marco looked back and forth at them, no doubt trying to puzzle

out what laid between the two elder vampires. He settled his gaze on

Malagan. “You’ll keep an eye on Xavier, Master?”

“As much as I can.” He pressed kisses to each of their foreheads.

“Come on, let’s get something to drink.” He walked to the door, ex-

pecting them to follow.

“Master?”

Malagan turned at Marco’s summons, followed Marco’s gaze to

Orion, who stood looking down at a smear of blood on the floor. “Ori-

on, come to me,” Malagan commanded.

The muscles in Orion’s jaw clenched and tightened, but he didn’t

respond.

“Orion!”

He sucked in a startled breath and turned his face toward Mala-

gan. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled. He frowned, the struggle of decision

obvious on his face—should he submit, or stand his ground? He

looked back and forth between the floor and his own shaking hands

several times, and raised his gaze to the mirror on the opposite wall.

He cocked his head and frowned at his reflection, eyes narrowing at

the image of his hands, equating himself to Clay, Malagan knew.

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6

Malagan sighed. Bad enough his heart hurt for Xavier, but, as al-

ways, he felt Orion’s pain as keenly as he would his own. He’d never

know anyone who got under his skin as well as Orion did. He crossed

the distance and took Orion’s hands. “Come.”

“You have to save him, Malagan.”

“I can’t save him.” Malagan gripped Orion’s hand tightly, squeez-

ing and running his thumbs back and forth. “All I can do his offer him

a refuge if he wants it.”

“You saved me.”

Those big, sorrowful eyes turned up to his, and Malagan could

barely stifle a cry of anguish. He smiled and rubbed Orion’s upper

arms. “It’s different this time, my friend.”

“I don’t want it to be different.”

“Neither do I,” Malagan whispered. “Neither do I.”

***

That night Malagan sat at his desk in his office, sorting through

bills and papers. He’d made apologies and assurances to the other lair

dwellers that what had taken place with Clay and Xavier would never

happen again. He shook his head, wishing he could rid himself of the

sting of Clay’s betrayal just as easily. Clay had been with him from

the beginning—had been instrumental in helping Malagan establish

the lair. He knew exactly what the place meant to Malagan, and how

important it was to those who sought sanctuary and peace within its

walls.

Malagan sighed. No matter. He didn’t need the kind of trouble

Clay had become, and he certainly didn’t need Clay’s help. He stacked

everything neatly, stood, and stretched. Intent on getting back to his

book, he turned to leave and found Marco standing just outside the

doorway.

“May I come in, Master?” Marco asked.

“Of course.” Malagan gestured to the seat across from him as he

sat back down.

Marco eased down slowly, folded his hands in his lap, and twist-

ed his fingers together, refusing to meet Malagan’s gaze.

“What’s wrong?” Malagan asked.

“I spoke to Orion. About…about his past. He told me some

things.”

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7

“Ah.” Malagan sat back and crossed his legs, settling in for what

he assumed would be a drawn-out conversation. Always was, when

dealing with Marco. “What did he tell you?”

“How his Maker found him when he was sixteen, after he’d run

away from those horrible parents of his, and promised him all these

amazing things, but really his Maker just wanted to use him.” Marco

looked away. “His Maker did use him. The things he was forced to

do…”

Malagan nodded. “Zachariah was a ruthless creature.”

“Did you know him, Master?” Marco peered across at Malagan

with wide eyes.

“I met him once, briefly.” For twenty minutes, to be exact. And

that was all the time Malagan needed to decide Zachariah should die.

“Orion said he never saw Zachariah again after the night you

found him.” Marco shifted in his seat. “What happened to him? Will

he ever come back for Orion? Because I’ve heard that when a Maker

chooses his protégé—”

“Zachariah is dead,” Malagan interrupted. “Orion has nothing to

fear from him anymore, or from anyone else. Nor do you.” He leaned

forward and patted Marco’s arm. “The lair is a safe place.”

Marco nodded and looked around the room. “The lair is all I’ve

ever known of vampire life. My Maker is a kind man, as are you, Mas-

ter. All the masters here are kind. I can’t imagine…” He trailed off and

shook his head, biting his lower lip.

“Life should be filled with kind people. But sometimes it’s not.”

Malagan sat back in his chair again.

Marco stuck out his chin. “Xavier should’ve stayed with Orion, no

matter what. Orion was good to him.”

“Someone being good to you doesn’t mean you owe them your

loyalty. Xavier needs something Orion can’t give him.” Suspecting

there was more to Marco’s visit than sharing gossip over Orion, Mala-

gan raised an eyebrow and waited while the young vampire fidgeted

and fretted.

“I’m worried about Orion, Master,” Marco blurted at last.

“He’ll be all right. I know he’s upset—”

“No, you don’t understand. He—” Marco finally looked at Malag-

an, winced apologetically, and ducked his head back down. “Forgive

me for interrupting you, Master. It’s just…I’m not supposed to tell

you. Orion asked me not to, and any other time, I might keep a secret

for him. But this time…”

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8

Malagan leaned forward. “If you think Orion is in danger, I need

to know.”

Marco nodded. “I do. He went to try to talk to Xavier. He went to

Clay’s house.”

Malagan clenched his jaw tight. Though a welcome change, this

reemerging defiant streak of Orion’s would be the death of him. Per-

haps of them both. “When did he leave?”

“Just after Clay left.”

Malagan glanced at his watch. Orion had a full hour’s head start

on him. He stood, slid his jacket on, and reached into his pocket for his

keys. “Stay here,” he instructed. “Gather the others and be prepared

to deal with whatever I bring back.”

***

This was a bad, bad idea. Orion shook his head at his own stupid-

ity even as he backed away from Clay. Far older than Clay and twice

Clay’s size in build, he could easily break the other vampire, but he

didn’t have that in him anymore, and he had been stupid to think he

did. He edged to his left, closer to the door.

“Answer me! Did Malagan send you?” Clay stalked toward Ori-

on, hands balled into fists at his sides.

“This has nothing to do with Malagan,” Orion told him. “All I

want is to see Xavier.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I’ve got

some medical training, you know that. I just want to check on him,

make sure he’s okay. I know you’re not going take him to the hospi-

tal.”

“Just how stupid do you think I am, freak?” Clay snarled. “You

think I’m going to let you waltz in there and”—he held up his hands

and made quote fingers—”’check on him’? You think I’m going to let

you brainwash him into leaving me, freak?” Clay surged toward Ori-

on, stood toe-to-toe and glared up at him.

Freak. The word went straight to Orion’s guts and sent a shiver of

hatred running up his spine. He pushed his shoulders back and stood

taller, towering over Clay, but to no effect. Clay didn’t back down,

didn’t turn away, didn’t show one single sign of submitting.

Clay laughed and snapped his fingers in Orion’s face. “Look at

you. Size of a fucking giant, but the balls of a three-year-old. You’ve

got no spine, Orion. You’re nothing but a simpering weakling who

hides behind Malagan.” He turned away and moved to the bar.

“Don’t turn your back on me,” Orion warned, tempting fate.

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“Why not?” Clay called over his shoulder. “What are you going to

do about it? You going to beat me senseless and take what you want?

That’s what you’re good at, isn’t it? Why don’t you come over here

and try it, freak? That’s right, come on over here. I won’t even turn

around. I’ll let you have the first hit. That’s all you need. Just that first

hit to get you going. And then you’ll bloody me up, right?”

“I’ll do what I must to get Xavier away from you.” Orion took

a deep breath and stood his ground, unmoving. He wasn’t about to

back away, but he wouldn’t do anything rash either.

Clay rounded on Orion and smirked. “You don’t have the guts.”

The door opened behind them, and Orion turned to see Malagan

standing in the opening. Elation and anger warred within him. He

wanted to smile and gloat to Clay that now things would go his way,

but another part of him hated Malagan for showing up, for stealing

his thunder. For proving Clay right.

“He may not,” Malagan murmured. “But I do.” He swiveled his

head to look at Orion, sent a knowing, compassionate look Orion’s

way. “Xavier and I will meet you back at the lair.”

Heart pounding, Orion swallowed his pride and nodded. He left

Clay’s house, the sounds of breaking glass and Clay’s yelling echo-

ing down the path. He stopped at his car and turned back toward

the house. This wasn’t Malagan’s fight—Malagan hadn’t started it,

after all, and Malagan shouldn’t be the one finishing it. Orion took

three steps up the path and froze as his guts knotted up and a wave of

nausea assaulted him. Gagging, he pressed the back of his hand to his

mouth and stumbled back, colliding with the front of the car.

Frustration tore at him. Self-loathing and worthlessness wrapped

their claws around him and pulled him under. Orion whirled and

brought both fists crashing down onto the hood of his car. Again

and again, until he’d left a bloody dent. Exhausted, lightheaded, he

straightened and choked on a throat full of tears as he ran his fingers

over the ruined hood. Why did he break everything he touched?

***

The moment Malagan walked into his kitchen, he knew where the

dent in Orion’s car had come from. Orion sat at the table, both hands

wrapped in gauze, nursing a cup of coffee. Orion hadn’t healed his

wounds, and Malagan knew that spelled a nasty bout of depression

on the horizon. He wiped his own bloodied knuckles on his pants—

unhealed because he simply hadn’t taken the time—and went to pour

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10

himself a mug. He needed to feed, but he needed to see to Orion first.

Caffeine would do in the meantime.

“I owe you some supplies,” Orion said, holding up his hands.

Malagan shrugged. “Mi casa es su casa, you know that.” He sat

down across from Orion, nodded to Orion’s hands. “Did the car say

something you didn’t like?”

Orion burst into laughter, leaned forward, and laid his head on

the table, forehead down. He shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Malagan reached his hand to the back of Orion’s neck,

massaged the tight-corded muscles there. “I’m proud of you. What

you did was incredibly stupid and ill-advised, but I’m still proud of

you. Although you could’ve gotten yourself killed, and then I’d have

had to kill Clay. You should think about that next time.”

“Will there be a next time?” he asked, turning his face slightly to

see Malagan.

Malagan withdrew his hand and picked up his coffee to sip it.

“Hard to say. Marco and the others are helping Xavier settle in now.

He came with me willingly tonight, but one never knows with hu-

mans. They’re such a fickle bunch.”

Orion sat up and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Thank you.”

Malagan nodded. He’d rescued Xavier for his own peace of mind

as much as for Orion’s. “I discussed the situation at length with him

on the drive home. He loves you, of course, as he always has. He

wants to return to you, if you’ll have him. You should speak to him.”

Orion shook his head. “You know I can’t.”

Malagan held up a hand. “Think about it. He’s not going to be up

for anything heavy for a very long time. Might never be, now. Perhaps

this experience will show him he doesn’t need the dangerously heavy

hand he craves. Perhaps it won’t. Either way, the two of you can learn

and grow together. As morbid as it seems, maybe this situation today

was just what each of you needs to find your way back to what you

once were.”

“What I was?” Orion smirked. “I was a monster.”

Malagan ignored the statement, focused on the present. “I’ve

seen how you are with the new fledglings, with the vamps who come

through my doors questioning everything, questioning their own san-

ity. You’re patient with them. You take time with them, make sure

they’re comfortable and happy. And I’ve seen the light that comes into

your eyes when you watch a BDSM session. You want to be the one

holding the paddle. You want to be the one giving that joy to a sub.

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You deserve to be the one, and Xavier, flighty as the man is, deserves

that from you. If I didn’t trust you, I’d never have let you live in the

lair.”

Orion stood and paced to the sink to rinse out his coffee cup.

“How can you trust me when I can’t even trust myself?”

A valid question, but Malagan doubted Orion would accept any

answer he gave. He stood and joined Orion, slid his arm around Ori-

on’s waist. “Like I said, I’ve seen it in your eyes.”

“I don’t know.” Orion shook his head and leaned into Malagan’s

embrace. “I haven’t even picked up a whip since…” He broke off and

looked away.

“I know.” Malagan pressed a kiss to the top of Orion’s head. “You

never know until you try.”

“Maybe.” Orion sat his cup down on the counter and laid his

hand over Malagan’s. He froze as his fingers made contact with bro-

ken flesh. He turned quickly and lifted Malagan’s hand. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s nothing. Clay’s face is harder than it looks.” Malagan’s chest

constricted as Orion turned his hand over and back again, touching

the wound gingerly, scowling. “It’s nothing,” he repeated.

“Let me,” Orion murmured. He raised Malagan’s hands and

licked Malagan’s knuckles one by one. At length he lifted his head,

eyes crimson. “Tell me he looks worse than you.”

Malagan chuckled. “Far worse.” He pulled his hands away and

stroked Orion’s hair. “Go speak to Xavier, my friend. You two have

much to discuss.”

Orion obeyed, though Malagan didn’t miss the reluctance in his

slow, calculated movements, or the way he hesitated at the doorway

and looked back over his shoulder at Malagan before going on. The

road to Xavier’s recovery would be long, but he wondered if the road

to Orion’s wouldn’t be longer.

***

Three months later, he had his answer, as Orion paced frantically

around the library, clenching and unclenching his shaking hands. “I

told you I couldn’t do this!” Orion hissed.

Malagan steepled his fingers in front of him and leaned back in

his chair. “What happened?”

“What always happens! He ran away from me again! I found him

at a club two towns over, being fed on by vamps from another clan.”

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12

Orion ran his hands through his hair, clutching his fingers at the ends

and tugging. “He bore my scent. My mark. And they ignored it!”

Malagan shrugged. “Just as any other vamp would if they found

a stray.” He tried unsuccessfully to keep the snide tone from his voice.

Stray feeders were like stray cats—cute enough everyone wanted to

pet them and feed them, but dirty enough no one really wanted to

keep them.

“He’s not a stray!” Orion rounded on him, eyes glowing bright

red, fangs descended. “You would do well to mind your clan and

your borders!”

Though impressed and encouraged by Orion’s display of domi-

nance, Malagan couldn’t let it go unanswered. He curled his upper

lip in a snarl and stood. “You would do well to remember your place,

Orion.”

Orion glared at Malagan, breathing hard, his internal war evident.

At last he pulled his fangs up and took a step backward. “I’m sorry.”

Malagan crossed to him, tipped his head back with a finger under

his chin. “Don’t be sorry. Be respectful. That’s all I ask. You know as

well as I that a marked feeder far from his home is probably a stray.

They likely didn’t ask if he had a master, and Xavier likely didn’t offer

the fact that he did. You are my dearest friend, but it’s not a situation

I’ll go to war over.”

Orion nodded. “I know.” He looked away, but rested his hands

on Malagan’s hips. “What am I to do, Mal? My heart is in chaos. If I

cannot command Xavier’s loyalty, how can I command his love? Or

anyone else’s? A vampire master who wakes in the night with no clue

where his feeder has gone.” He shook his head miserably. “I see the

looks the others give me. I have neither their respect nor their regard.”

Malagan leaned in and nipped at Orion’s ear. “You have mine, on

all counts.”

“I’m grateful for that.” Orion raised his head to meet Malagan’s

eyes. “More than you know. My Maker said he’d change my life.

That’s what he told me, the night he found me. He promised me pow-

er, control, and I believed him.” He turned and stepped away, but

Malagan caught him by the arm and pulled him close again.

“You had no reason not to.” Malagan fitted their bodies together

tightly, ground his hips against Orion’s ass.

“I should’ve known better. I should’ve found a way to leave.”

Though Orion finally leaned back into the embrace, his body was

rigid.

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Malagan tugged Orion’s neatly tucked shirt up and slid his hands

up under it to touch the only slightly chilly flesh, fascinated by it, as

always. Orion had never been as cold to the touch as most vampires.

“And how many would be dead, if you had?”

Orion shrugged. “Maybe they’d be better off that way.” He pulled

away, head hanging, and wrapped his arms around his middle tightly,

shaking. “You should take Xavier. Or someone else should. Anyone.”

“Orion—”

“No. He needs more from me than I can give. I’m not that man

anymore.”

Malagan sighed. He’d watched his friend struggle these past few

years, had tried to stand back and let Orion figure things out. What

he should’ve done was shown Orion what he saw when he looked in

Orion’s eyes. Shown Orion the strength buried under all that doubt

and shame. He took a deep breath and quirked an eyebrow at his own

idea. This might hurt a bit. Malagan grabbed Orion by the shoulder

and turned him around roughly.

“What—”

“Shut up!” Malagan snapped. “If you’re not a master, then you’re

a feeder.” He shoved Orion back against the wall and lowered his

head to Orion’s neck.

“No!” Growling, Orion scratched at Malagan with razor-sharp

nails. He brought his knee up between them and slammed it into Mal-

agan’s crotch, rammed his shoulder into Malagan’s chest, and sent

Malagan flying.

Malagan crashed into the bookcase across the room, quickly re-

gained his feet, and caught Orion in midair as Orion sailed toward

him. He twisted, tossing Orion to the floor beneath him, and landed

a few feet away.

“I am no one’s feeder!” Orion was on his feet again, stalking to-

ward Malagan.

Malagan held up his hands as he stood. “Enough!”

Orion circled Malagan, snarling, gnashing his teeth.

“You see my point, now, yes?” Malagan kept his hands at his side,

kept his shoulders relaxed and his tone even. He could win a fight

between them—a real fight—if need be, but the damage to them both

would be far more than he was willing to pay. “You are a Dominant,

Orion. You are a master. It’s in you.”

Orion tipped his head back and looked at the ceiling, chuckling.

He leveled a glare at Malagan. “You tempt something you don’t un-

Orion’s Way

14

derstand, old friend. I could tear you to ribbons. I have torn men to

ribbons.”

Malagan nodded. “And I respect that. But you don’t have to any-

more. And you won’t. I have a suggestion, if you’re willing to hear it.”

Orion narrowed his eyes, but nodded. “Of course.”

“Try a short session, to see what happens. If you really can’t deal

with it, then so be it. Xavier can find another master. But you should

at least try.”

“I can’t believe you’re willing to put someone in that position.”

Orion whirled in the other direction, paced away, shaking his head.

Malagan swallowed down the lump of nerves that had jumped

suddenly into his throat. “I’m not. I’m offering.”

Orion turned and gaped at him, slack-jawed. “You? You would

do that for me?”

“Of course I would.”

“What if I hurt you?”

“Like I said, we’ll see what happens. There will be ground rules,

of course. I’m not going to let you bind me. You won’t have free rein

over me, but you’ll have enough control of the situation to make it

real.” Malagan held out his hand. “Come to my chamber with me. Let

me show you what I see inside you.”

Orion glanced down at Malagan’s hand, then back up at Mala-

gan’s face. “I’ll never forgive myself if this goes wrong.”

Malagan stepped close, slid his hands up into Orion’s hair, and

held Orion’s head tightly. He placed a gentle, soft kiss on Orion’s lips.

“I’ll never forgive myself if we don’t try.”

***

“Are you sure about this?” Orion followed into Malagan’s cham-

ber, through a secret entrance—cleverly disguised as a bookshelf—

into a back room. Malagan’s personal torture room. Orion shivered

as they passed a leather-padded table with a mirror suspended above

it. His gaze went immediately to the chains and manacles hanging

from the far wall, then to the assortment of whips, floggers, and crops

displayed next to them. There were other instruments of erotic pain—

hoods, blindfolds, clamps, paddles, gags, pinwheels, and ball stretch-

ers. Indeed, everything Orion could want was there—all neatly laid

out on a table.

Malagan nodded and unfastened his pants. He pushed them

down over his hips, hooked his thumbs in his underwear, and pulled

DC Juris

15

them off as well, gaze locked on Orion. Orion swallowed hard as he

tore his eyes from Malagan’s and looked down at Malagan’s already

hard cock. He’d never seen Malagan naked, and he couldn’t suppress

a groan of appreciation as Malagan’s shirt came off to reveal a chis-

eled, tanned chest, covered with a sparse mat of hair and a tattoo of a

bleeding sword clutched in a clawed hand, marking him a member of

the Lyshun Clan—the oldest of the vampire clans.

Malagan strolled by a cage, smiling as he ran his fingers along

the bars, by the free-standing sling—again, he touched the metal with

a smile—and past the large, four-poster bed with its shining chains

that hung from each corner. He smirked at the Saint Andrew’s Cross

on the far wall, but didn’t pause there either, nor at the whipping

post, though Orion would’ve happily accepted that choice. Malagan

stopped at the rear of the room, stood in the middle of a simple pad-

ded square, and put his hands behind him, standing like a soldier at

parade rest.

Orion paced back over to the table along the wall, picking up

things and putting them back down. “What would you like me to

use?” he asked.

Malagan smiled and inclined his head. “Whatever would please

you, Master. Your joy is mine.”

Though his words were submissive, his stance wasn’t. Malagan

kept his shoulders back and his head up, watching Orion’s every move

until Orion felt as though he were the one on display. Orion squared

his shoulders and took a deep breath. He picked up a shiny black rid-

ing crop and turned to face Malagan. “What is your safe word?”

Malagan shook his head. “It should be tell me your safe word. It’s a

command, not a question. You’re the Dom, and I’m your sub. I should

feel compelled to answer you. Stop flipping the crop around. It makes

you appear not to want to touch it.”

Orion glanced down and frowned at the unconscious movements

of his hands, tossing the crop back and forth between them. He wrin-

kled his brow, and let out a sigh, understanding what a few of his

fellows had meant when they’d talked about pushy bottoms. Though

he knew Malagan’s guidance and advice were for his own good—

knew he very much needed them—they still grated on his nerves. He

clenched his right fist tightly around the handle of the crop and gave

Malagan a lopsided grin. “I’m rusty at this.”

“It’s all right.” Malagan shifted his weight and nodded. “Just try

it again.”

Orion’s Way

16

Orion walked forward, touched the tip of the crop to Malagan’s

chin, and raised Malagan’s head with it. “Tell me your safe word.”

Malagan grinned. “Much better. My safe word is ‘potato’, Mas-

ter.”

“Potato.” Orion nodded. “I suggest you keep it close to your

tongue. You may well want to use it.”

A flash of defiance glimmered in Malagan’s eyes but he said noth-

ing, simply bowed his head. The gesture filled Orion with a giddy

sense of power, made his head swim, and made him want test Mala-

gan. Push Malagan’s limits and see just how far he could make Mala-

gan go. Wipe that smug sense of superiority right out of Malagan’s

mind.

Orion trailed the crop down Malagan’s chest, tapping each nipple,

then dipped it down to stroke Malagan’s cock. He stepped around,

dragging the crop across Malagan’s body, and delivered one hard,

loud smack to Malagan’s ass.

Malagan moaned and shivered.

Bolstered by the reaction, Orion administered the crop four more

times—two hits to each cheek. He rubbed his hand over Malagan’s

bright red flesh, luxuriating in the radiating heat, and the way Mala-

gan pressed back against the touch. But it wasn’t enough. His desire

to bring Malagan to his knees still burned. His gaze went again to

the table; he wanted desperately to see Malagan trussed up on it, but

Malagan had already put a nix on that idea. He could still dominate

without the binding, though.

Orion lifted the crop and smacked Malagan’s shoulders lightly

with it, then up and down Malagan’s upper arm as he walked back

around to face Malagan. He reached down and gripped Malagan’s

cock as he rained gentle taps of the crop down on Malagan’s chest and

nipples. “Do you enjoy my attentions?” he asked.

Malagan raised his head and met Orion’s gaze. “Yes, Master. Very

much.” He pulled his hands around in front of him and held them out

to Orion. “Would you tie my wrists please, Master?”

Orion raised an eyebrow, looked down to Malagan’s hands and

back up to his face. A test, of course. They had already set ground

rules, and no Dom worth anything would go back on his word in the

heat of the moment. Orion shook his head. “No.”

Malagan nodded and smiled. “Dom to Dom, you may bind me,

if you wish.”

DC Juris

17

Malagan really did trust him. Hearing Malagan profess his trust

was all well and good, but having Malagan make such a gesture, hav-

ing Malagan place his safety in Orion’s hands, was something else

entirely. A spike of adrenaline made Orion’s heart race and his blood

pound in his ears. He turned immediately and went to the table,

grabbed up a pair of leather cuffs and hurried back to Malagan, nearly

tripping over his own feet.

“Easy,” Malagan murmured. “A little less eager, there, if you

don’t mind.”

Orion took a deep breath and nodded. Hands shaking, he reached

out with the cuffs.

“Steady yourself,” Malagan told him. “Your nerves are under-

standable, but your sub will feed off them. You know that. Think for a

moment, before you act.”

Orion shuddered and turned away, barely suppressing the sob

that suddenly rose in his throat. He couldn’t do this. Who was he kid-

ding? He was broken, worthless. For God’s sake, he couldn’t even

dominate another Dom without being coached. He sucked in a breath

as Malagan’s arms slid around him and pulled him close. Malagan

took the cuffs from him and turned him around.

Malagan went down on his knees and gazed up at Orion, holding

out the cuffs. “Please, Master.”

Orion took them, stared at them for a long moment as he fought

to control his ragged breathing and the staccato beating of his heart.

Malagan’s pleading eyes bore into his soul, and something finally

clicked inside him. He fastened the cuffs around Malagan’s wrists,

ran his finger under the edge of each to ensure they weren’t too tight.

All his old instincts came back to him in a rush. He ran his hand

through Malagan’s hair as he moved again, coming to a stop behind

him. Riding the high of power, he placed his foot in the middle of

Malagan’s back and gave a push. “Ass up.”

Malagan complied, leaning down to rest his weight on his fore-

arms and pointing his ass in the air.

Orion licked his lips, fought the urge to kneel and slide his tongue

deep into Malagan’s tight hole. Instead, he used the tip of the crop,

running it up and down the crack of Malagan’s ass. He started the

spanking again, soft and gentle at first, making barely a noise, but

soon his hits rained down harder, the sound of them echoing off the

walls blended with Malagan’s gasps and moans, reverberating deep

in Orion’s bones and sliding along his cock. Frenzied, lost in the heady

Orion’s Way

18

pull of control, he kept the hits up, focused on nothing more than re-

ducing Malagan to a whimpering mass.

Malagan raised his head. “Potato,” he whispered.

Orion stopped mid-strike and looked down at Malagan. Another

test. Had to be—Malagan had the highest pain tolerance of anyone

Orion had ever met. No way was he at his limit. Orion faltered, de-

bating. He lowered his arm, then raised it again. His sub had given a

safe word; he should stop. He knew that. But he didn’t want to. He

wanted to keep going, keep the pain up until Malagan begged him to

stop. And even then, he wasn’t certain that he would. Horrified, Orion

dropped the crop and staggered away until his back hit the wall. He

slid down to sit, staring mutely at Malagan.

Malagan pushed himself up to his feet with a wince, and walked

over to Orion. He knelt down, leaned forward, and rested his head on

Orion’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Orion whispered.

“For what?” Malagan straightened, wiggled his bound hands at

Orion.

Orion unfastened the cuffs and wrapped his fingers around Mala-

gan’s wrists, massaging the red-ringed flesh there. “I didn’t want to

stop.”

“But you did.” Malagan took Orion’s hands and held them tight-

ly. “Talk to me. Tell me where your head was at during our session.”

“I just…the power,” Orion whispered. “I’d forgotten how much I

loved the power. So much of my life was beyond my control; when I

discovered BDSM, it was as if a light went off in my head. I’d finally

found a way to be the one in charge. In a session, I was the Alpha

Male. I made the decisions. And I liked that so very much.”

Malagan nodded and raised Orion’s hands to his lips, kissed the

back of each one. “The vamps who used that against you were the real

monsters, not you. They took something beautiful and drenched it in

darkness. But they didn’t tarnish your beauty. It’s still there, inside

you. It just needs some polishing up.” Malagan pulled Orion into his

arms and held him tightly. “You did wonderfully with me. Seeing you

holding that crop felt so right, like you’d found your way back home.

And the way you made me feel.” Malagan shivered. “I don’t sub for

many men.”

Orion nodded. He’d been amazed when Malagan had initially

made the offer, and, though hesitant and nervous, he’d known a ses-

sion with Malagan was something he couldn’t turn down. Something

DC Juris

19

special, too good to refuse. “I have to admit, I was humbled by the

offer.”

“How do you feel?”

Orion considered the question. He couldn’t concentrate on any-

thing but the feel of Malagan’s powerful muscles, of that hard, hot

body pressed against his. Malagan’s cock was still hard, and Orion

wanted nothing more than to wrap his hand around its length and

stroke until Malagan’s cum coated him. His cock swelled with the

thought. Orion’s cheeks burned with a blush. He ducked his head un-

der Malagan’s chin.

“What is it?” Malagan leaned back and tipped Orion’s face up

to his. “You can’t pepper my ass and then go all embarrassed on me.

Talk to me.”

Orion shrugged. “It’s heavy, you know? Having that much con-

trol. But it makes me feel lightheaded. Dizzy. And…”

“And?”

“And horny,” he admitted with a chuckle. “God, I’m horny.”

Malagan kissed Orion gently, tongue teasing across Orion’s lower

lip. “I can help you out with that, too, if you’d like.”

Orion’s eyes went wide. Sex with Malagan had been a fantasy of

his ever since they’d met. Malagan’s strong, powerful presence had

always drawn Orion in, but not in a typical way. Instead of making

him want to submit, Malagan’s strength had always made Orion want

to be stronger himself. Made him want to prove himself.

Malagan placed one of Orion’s hands on his cock, and closed his

eyes with a moan.

Despite the desire raging inside him, and his painfully hard cock,

Orion shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“I think you do.” Malagan stood. He went to the other side of the

room and pulled a rope, unveiling a floor to ceiling mirror mounted

on the wall. He turned and opened the door to a small closet Ori-

on hadn’t noticed before, reached in and hefted out a large piece of

sheet-covered furniture. Malagan set the item in front of the mirror

and yanked the sheet off to reveal a leather-padded bench with built-

in wrist and ankle restraints, and a large looping strap Orion assumed

must be for a person’s neck. Malagan climbed onto the bench, stuck

his hands and feet in the restraints, and lowered his head, waiting.

Orion sat there, dry-mouthed, barely able to think. The sight of

Malagan waiting for him—open for him—drew him to his feet and

had his hands on his belt buckle in an instinctual response. He un-

Orion’s Way

20

dressed quickly, never taking his eyes off the beautiful display in front

of him. This was primal—the simple urges of a dominant man—and

Orion closed his eyes and breathed in deep before he crossed the

room. He fastened the restraints around Malagan’s wrists and ankles,

left the neck strap undone, and returned to the table for a bottle of

lube. “Tell me your safe word.”

Malagan raised his head and looked into the mirror in front of

him, at Orion’s image. His eyes went wide as his gaze dipped to Ori-

on’s cock. He raised an eyebrow and swallowed hard before closing

his eyes again. “My safe word is ‘potato’, Master.”

Orion stepped up behind Malagan, again taking deep breaths,

trying desperately to calm the excitement pounding through him. He

fisted his right hand tight around the bottle of lube to stop its shak-

ing and squirted some of the slick substance onto the curve of Mala-

gan’s cheeks, smiling as it trickled down and Malagan squirmed. He

teased Malagan’s hole with only the tip of his index finger at first, then

slipped just a fraction of his finger inside. He couldn’t recall the last

time Malagan had mentioned having bottomed for anyone, and while

he surely wanted to give Malagan pain, he didn’t want to actually

damage the man. “Open your eyes,” Orion commanded. “See who

owns your body.”

Malagan let out a soft sigh and opened his eyes.

Their gazes locked and for a moment, Orion simply looked at Mal-

agan, reading the unspoken statements on Malagan’s face. Malagan

would never fully submit to him, not on a base level, not on a mental

level, but he might very well gain Malagan’s physical and emotional

submission, if only he could prove himself worthy. If only he could

prove himself powerful enough—dominant enough—to control him.

He nodded, holding Malagan’s gaze as he slid two more fingers in,

stretching them apart, letting Malagan know in no uncertain terms

that he needed to be prepared for what he was about to experience.

Orion worked and teased Malagan’s body, sliding his fingers

in and out, twisting them, curling them, stroking Malagan’s sweet

spot again and again. Malagan shivered and moaned, pressing back

against him, all the while never breaking eye contact. “Are you ready

for me?”

Malagan nodded.

“No, say the words. I want to hear them.”

Malagan licked his lips, gave Orion a dashing smile. “I’m ready

for you, Master Orion.”

DC Juris

21

Master Orion. Not just Master. Master had become a title of re-

spect among the vampires, used to address any who weren’t feeders

or submissives. No, not just Master. Master Orion. How many years

had it been since he’d been called that? And never with such desire

behind the words, never from a willing, wanting sub. He withdrew

his fingers, loving the way Malagan’s muscles clutched at them as he

pulled out. Holding his cock in his right hand, he slid the thick tip up

and down against Malagan’s hole. “My cock’s bigger than you’re used

to.” He kept his tone teasing and light, despite the seriousness of the

warning. “There’d be no shame in giving your word if you can’t take

me.”

Malagan let out a mewl of frustration and wiggled back against

Orion. “I can take you, Master. Please, fill me,” Malagan breathed.

And though his voice was just a bit too strong to be considered beg-

ging, the tremble of his body and the longing in his eyes made up for

it.

Orion grinned. Damn but Malagan was good at this. He pressed

his cock against Malagan’s opening, gasping as Malagan’s body

pulled him in inch by inch. Tight. The word screamed in his head. Oh,

so deliciously tight and hot. How long he could hold off, he didn’t

know. He flexed his hips back, pulled almost completely out, held

himself still for the space of a heartbeat, and slammed back in.

Malagan cried out and arched under him as much as was pos-

sible. “Yes! More, Master!”

More. Orion pumped his hips quickly, holding onto that word. In

the last few years, when he’d tried to do this—tried to dominate some

hot and bothered, slicked-up young vampire sub or human feeder—

all he’d heard in his head, no matter what had fallen from their lips,

had been the pleading and begging of those before them. Don’t! Stop!

No! Please! You’re hurting me! Safe words hurled at him, and all the

while, a knife their throats, a gun at their head. How many subs had

he tortured so they’d live another day? How many young, enchant-

ingly sweet faces had come before him, eyes wide with wonder, and

had left him cold and numb, soulless, aching with pain and hatred

for him. For themselves. How many humans had he turned from the

BDSM lifestyle? How many vampires had he ruined?

“Orion…” Malagan’s soft, deep voice called to him. “It’s different

now.”

Orion nodded. Yes. Different. This was different. This wasn’t like

before—nothing would ever be like before.

Orion’s Way

22

“Spank me, Master,” Malagan begged.

Orion reacted automatically, giving in to the needs of his sub

without thought. He landed solid, loud hits on Malagan’s ass with his

left hand, held onto the bar with his right as he pounded his cock into

Malagan’s ass. Malagan took it, writhing under him, bucking, beg-

ging, and sobbing for more, urging him on with all manner of filthy

talk and pleading. Orion shifted his hips, aimed downward in an at-

tempt to hit that spot.

Malagan’s head dropped forward, thrashed form side to side as

he took everything Orion had to give him. He took the pleasure, took

the pain, and with them, the shame and guilt that had clouded Orion’s

mind and heart for far, far too long. Joy and gratitude welled up in-

side Orion, seemed to stretch him out until he couldn’t breathe any-

more. And then Malagan whispered the word Orion hadn’t known

he’d wanted to hear until just that moment.

“Drink.”

Snarling like a feral thing, Orion grabbed for Malagan’s hair,

hauled Malagan up as much as he could, and sank his teeth into the

space where neck met shoulder. He drank greedily, Malagan’s blood

spilling over his tongue, warmth and light spreading down his throat

and into his body. Sweet. Oh, Malagan tasted so very, very sweet. And

ancient. If beautiful antiquity had a flavor, it was Malagan.

Malagan shuddered violently and called out his name, and Orion

broke free of it all at last. He buried himself to his balls one final time,

and released Malagan’s neck, arching tightly against Malagan’s still-

shaking body as the orgasm shattered his reality.

Exhausted, spent, Orion draped his body over Malagan’s, ran

his hands through Malagan’s hair and leaving a trail of bloody kisses

across Malagan’s back and shoulders. “All right?” he panted.

Malagan nodded, gasping for air, eyes squeezed tightly shut. He

rattled the restraints, and Orion nodded as well. Orion straightened

on unsteady legs, pulled himself away from the clinging, fiery heat of

Malagan’s body, and bent to unfasten him. He guided Malagan to the

floor, pillowed Malagan’s head on his lap. “Mal?”

Malagan opened his eyes and raised a hand to touch Orion’s

cheek. “You found your way.”

Orion nodded. “You make a fine lighthouse.”

Malagan chuckled, then winced. “Don’t make me laugh! That

horse cock of yours nearly split me in two.”

“I did warn you.”

DC Juris

23

Malagan reached back and rubbed his ass. “Still, not for noth-

ing…” He shook his head and sighed. “That was worth the pain.” He

leaned up on his elbows and kissed Orion’s chin. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Orion drew in a shaky breath and let it out slowly. “I

feel good. I don’t know if I’m ready to do this with Xavier full-time

or not. But I feel stronger. I feel like I’ve crossed a threshold. Felt like

the old me, back before…” He trailed off, knowing Malagan would

understand.

“Like riding a horse, eh?”

“According to you.” Orion palmed his cock.

Malagan threw back his head and laughed. “Xavier’s still got a

way to go before he’ll be ready for you. First and foremost, he needs

to learn some self-control and to keep his ass in the lair where it be-

longs. I’ll speak to him about defying his clan. Perhaps that will instill

enough fear in him to keep him grounded. In the meantime, we have

plenty of time to practice.”

Orion quirked an eyebrow at him. “We?”

“What, you think I’m letting you put that thing in anyone else?

Hell, I’ll be fielding medical bills left and fight. Nope.” Malagan shook

his head with a grin. “It’s better you practice on someone familiar

with it. Someone who can take it.”

Eager though he might be, Malagan’s paler than normal skin told

the story of the effort Orion’s lesson had cost him. Orion raised his

own wrist to his mouth, bit it open, and offered it to Malagan.

Malagan clutched Orion’s wrist, lips hovering above it, and looked

up at Orion, a dark, brooding lust simmering in his eyes. He licked the

wound closed, rose up on his knees, and pushed Orion to the floor.

Malagan hesitated, leaning back to look down into Orion’s eyes.

Orion threaded his fingers into Malagan’s hair and nodded. Mal-

agan’s teeth pierced his neck gently, Malagan’s body pinning him.

Orion wrapped his legs around Malagan’s, clutched Malagan’s head

to his flesh.

Malagan broke away and pulled Orion’s head to his own neck,

bared it in invitation as he lowered his lips back to Orion’s.

Orion bit down and drank slowly, savoring the feeling of feeding

while being fed on. There was no submission or domination between

them, just the simple give and take of two ancient creatures. With the

shared feeding came the sharing of emotions—Orion’s uncertain-

ty and self-doubt mingled with Malagan’s confidence and pride in

Orion—and they blossomed into mutual love and friendship. Orion

Orion’s Way

24

sighed and closed his eyes as Malagan’s words echoed in his head

and in his heart.

You found your way…

Biography

A Southern transplant who has retained none of his accent but all

of his charm, DC Juris is an out and proud transgender bisexual liv-

ing in Upstate New York with his husband, four dogs, three cats, and

a menagerie of Halloween props just creepy enough to keep people

guessing about his sanity. He’s still hopelessly single when it comes

to the woman in his life, and he’ll gladly entertain offers or applica-

tions for the position! In the rare event that he’s not writing, DC can

be found surfing the internet for random research, killing things on

his Xbox, reading, taking pictures of the world around him, or play-

ing Farmville, to which he admits a complete and totally blissful ad-

diction. You can keep up with him at www.facebook.com/dcjuris, or

www.dcjuris.com.