The past
Mishka struggled ineffectually against the restraints binding him to the tree. The long leather whip wound around his chest, biting hard against his straining torso, capturing his arms rendering them useless by his side.
His fingernails drew blood on his palms as he clenched his hands into fists.
Fuck, he thought, his breathing shallow and erratic, determined not to show the idiot he was panicking. There was nothing he could do though, if anything his struggles only served to tighten the restraints. He twisted violently, wincing as the leather cut off the circulation in his upper arms and prevented him from catching his breath.
He looked up at Caleb. His mentor was in a state, his clothes were torn, a trickle of blood ran from his temple and his bare arms were covered in grazes and bruises from parrying Mishka’s relentless attacks. He was also laughing so hard he shook.
Mishka couldn’t believe he had lost again. Memories of Caleb’s firm, insistent touches, the penalty for failure, sent unwelcome flickers of arousal through him.
He almost had him, he thought angrily. Caleb had been on the back foot all day. Mishka had been in no mood to take prisoners. Focus, focus, focus… the mantra had run through his mind over and over again. He had never taken his eyes off the young vampire boss, ignoring the equal determination, the flashes of hunger that flickered in his eyes. He’d resolved not to get over confident and cocky when Caleb’s calm, self-assured expression changed into one of shock and surprise, only to be replaced with even deeper sense of purpose. Caleb wanted to win as much as he did, Mishka realized, an unexpected bolt of excitement running through him at the thought. Both males had upped the incredible tempo.
Mishka wondered at himself. I want to beat him completely, he thought, smash him into the ground. He recalled with vivid clarity the helpless sensations that had rendered him senseless the day before, how out of control and how vulnerable he had felt. He had been determined not to let go, not to give in, but in the end he had been powerless to stop himself.
Never again, Mishka had thought. And yet, now look at him.
Caleb watched him, his laughter easing off, appraising Mishka with undisguised amusement and barely disguised lust.
“You make it so easy, Little One,” he croaked, “Anyone would think you wanted this.”
Mishka tried to recoil back against the tree trunk, and was met by solid resistance. Caleb motioned for Antonio to leave, then approached him. Mishka could feel the intense heat radiating from his hot body, the sweet scent of fresh sweat mingled with the metallic taste of blood, assaulting his senses. Caleb ruthlessly invaded Mishka’s personal space, crushing his body with his own, his knee forcing its way between Mishka’s legs. He felt a swift nudge to his ankles and was powerless to prevent his legs being spread wide apart. Caleb ran his hands possessively over Mishka’s bound chest.
Mishka hissed at him. “I will never want this.”
Caleb chuckled. “That’s what you said last time.”
“No.” Mishka gritted his teeth. “This is for your benefit, not mine.” He breathed a brief sigh of relief as Caleb retreated, tilting his head to one side.
“Do you have any idea how much better you are today then yesterday?” asked Caleb.
Mishka frowned. It had seemed easier, his final mistake notwithstanding. Caleb had seemed more familiar somehow, there seemed to be more options open to him to counter, evade and attack. And while he didn’t want to dwell on it, there hadn’t been any moments where Mishka had felt uncomfortable, where he had felt anything other than a genuine desire to win rather than a fear of losing. If anything he had enjoyed it more than ever. Until the end, that was.
