Page 6 of Nyte

“May I present one of our newest acquisitions, a pet for Lord Thorne.” Varney moved aside to allow Haven’s gaze to fall over Cy.

For the briefest moment, Cy saw something strange in those eyes. The vampyre’s expression softened slightly before going desperately hard.

“A pet.” Haven said the word as though it tasted bitter on his tongue.

“Yes, of course. The prized trade of House Varney.”

Cy twitched as Haven stepped closer, his skin burning at the intensity of Haven’s roving gaze. The vampyre was smaller than him in stature, his figure lithe and slender. He looked as though he was used to a life of privilege, not like some of the vampyre warriors that Cy had challenged in the past. Cy could wrap both hands around that slim neck, pull him in close to run a stake through his heart. It likely wouldn’t be a difficult fight.

“He’s not Thorne’s type.”

Varney’s smile was unwavering. “No, perhaps not, but there’s a strength to him. He’ll prove…challenging. Isn’t that one of Thorne’s favorite pastimes? Breaking the strong, bringing them to heel?”

Haven considered Cy for another moment, his lips drawing tight. There was no trace of kindness in his face. No emotion at all. “He looks like just another human to me.”

“Not just any human. The Karnsteins found him among the Veritas.”

Haven stiffened. “The Veritas?”

“Yes.” Varney regarded Cy coldly. “Elexus told me he’s a vampyre slayer.”

Haven’s eyes widened.

“And look here.” In much the same way that Karnstein had earlier, Varney bent to brush Cy’s curls back from his nape, exposing his brand. “A pet’s number. He was likely born in captivity.”

Haven reached out, cupping Cy’s chin in a tight grip. Their eyes met. “Have you manners then,pet?What pretty tricks will you perform for your master?”

Cy hated his snide tone, the way it spilled from his petulant, spoiled mouth. “You are not my master.”

The female guard snapped forward with a hand on her sword hilt, but before she could approach, Varney slapped Cy across the face, sending him sprawling to his knees on the floor. As he tumbled, still surprised at the strength she possessed, Cy bit back a growl. His robe fell open to expose the scars on his chest, and he couldn’t help but notice Haven’s sharp, discerning eyes grazing his skin.

“I told you he had a fire to him,” Varney purred.

Distaste twisted Haven’s features into something utterly repugnant. He waved a hand to his guard before settling back and crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s fine, Sirene. He’s harmless.” As though nothing of importance had transpired, he again addressed Varney. “I’ll deliver him to Thorne. In the meantime, I was hoping we could discuss the terms of trade. Thorne told me your family has requested fresh cattle from the farms.”

Was that disgust playing over Haven’s expression as he idly stared at his nails? Cy wanted to hit him, knock the sneer from his pretentious face.

Varney bristled before schooling her features. “I had hoped that the pet might lighten the burden of our trade.”

“Thorne made the terms clear. Besides, I thought he was agift.”

“Of course! Yes, of course. We’re more than prepared to offer full payment for the cattle.”

“I brought several breeding cattle. Merick and the others have already loaded them into your pens. That’s not the only reason I’m here, though. Thorne wants your commitment to the new trade alliance. He’s sent me with some documents that require your sign and seal.”

Varney smiled graciously, bowing her head. “Perhaps we should adjourn to my solar. Speak more privately.”

Haven drew himself tall, a cold, undead effigy. He nodded. “Yes, certainly. Will the pet be alright on its own?”

Varney reached into the pocket of her form-fitting dress to withdraw a small gold key. “Come here, pet.”

Cy glared at her, considering the costs of refusal. She’d proven she was stronger, and though admitting it pained him, fighting back was a wasted effort. He’d only expend energy that he might need at a later time.

He choked his anger down, clenching his fists to suppress his urge to strike, before allowing her to fasten his chain to a large brass ring bolted to the wall.

“He’ll behave,” Varney said, her tone syrupy sweet and false.

Seemingly satisfied with Cy’s level of imprisonment, Haven inclined his head toward the door. “Lead the way, then.”