The Kitty Cat's Mates (ManxMen)

44 | Delving Into the Past

15 years ago

Wiping the streak of blood that dripped out of his nose, Kain growled at the grinning crimson-eyed lad before him and declared, "I am not weak!" Without waiting for a response, he sprang to his feet and then lunged.

There were whooping, roars, cheers for the vampire of regality and derision for the grimy young slave in tattered loose pants and unkept grown hair.

Lazarus, the taller and older lad, clad in black joggers and sleek hair, effortlessly countered him. He then slammed Kain back on the ground.

Kain rasped as pain shot through his back, but he pushed and was just about to pick himself up when the other boy pinned his weight down on him.

Lazarus gripped his neck so tight that Kain felt like his head would pop off. Then he pulled his other arm back and slightly tilted his head. "Are you?" Lazarus said. And with that smile that did not offer any bit of kindness, he knocked Kain out.

*

At the stroke of seven in the evening, as work finishes every day, the slaves were compiled in the great hall for feeding.

Their feed? Bland stew.

Guards watched at the sideline and above, armed with silver weapons, sharp eyes, and ears for anything out of the ordinary or suspicious activities. One thing that the slaves knew of was if they were to make a noise, then they must not utter louder than a squeak. So despite the cluster, only the sounds of uncountable pairs of feet, clanking chains, and rustling were heard.

At the moment, only the women and the youngsters have arrived. The slaves were divided based on physical attributions; teenagers and children of conscious age separated from their mothers. This is to avoid sentimentality between slaves.

Kain followed behind his brothers. Not that he had a choice. The collared chains around their neck attached them. The neckband stops them from shifting. For if they did, the pressure would set off the silver spikes that would pierce through their throat.

Yusef looked over his shoulder and stared at the withering bruises on his younger twin's face down to the blood-stained roughspun trousers. He and Kain connected gazes. But they remained silent.

Then a woman brushed beside them. They blinked and turned their heads, and their eyes glittered upon sighting Roxana. Grime and sweat covered her skin, which still glistened at times. It was a veil that hid her complexion, a beauty that stood as another one of her weapons. Red hair and sea-green eyes were her ammunition. However, in the state they were in, it was nothing but a vice.

Kain tried to hide his face, but before he could do so, she had already lifted his chin. The boy silently hissed when she brushed her hand on his swollen cheek. Roxana's lips slightly parted, and uneasy creases delved into her expression. Kain pursed his lips and averted his gaze when he noticed it. He didn't want her to worry again.

"... I'm all right, mother," he whispered.

Worry did not leave Roxana's face. She looked at the two other boys that had donned the same eyes as she did, and relief gently washed over her that there was no more than dirt, grime, and sweat to be found. However, she was still pain-stricken. As much as she found consolation that they were not hurt, this was not the life that she had dreamt of giving them.

Their discreet interactions were halted when the west doors clunked opened. And from it, slaves — men of strong profiles, muscles, and tanned skinned — arrived. For in this place, the weak had no spot.

As all the slaves were, earth, and crud did not except the incoming laborers. If ever, they were the ones who had piled more muck than anyone. Their chains were fatter, heavier, darker, one that linked from their neck to their wrists. The vampires thought of them as the most dangerous in their collections, the strongest of their pets, and they served the chains as a hint they do not think of anything unwise.