Badass Omega [MxM] - A Reimagining of Carmen

Chapter 21 - That Day

That Day

"Take her. I'm tired of her anyway."

Devlin's eyes were locked on Kit's across the green felted tabletop, drinks and cards spilled between as he gave the werewolf away like an old broken toy - to the gangster whose brother Kit had killed. 

Whose strawberry blonde lover Devlin had snatched out from under him, and devoured. 

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise as handcuffs clinked shut around his wrists. As they led him away, Devlin's smile only widened. 

"Don't leave this room. That's an order."

Kit had woken up with a pressure bandage on, weak as a kitten. During the days that followed Devlin was cold, leaving him in his bedroom, in his bed, and sleeping beside him - fucking him - every night.

The days blurred together, and the windowless room made it impossible to tell how much time had passed. Devlin didn't speak to him again, even when he pressed him into the mattress. 

Carefully, deliberately, he tore into Kit's branchial artery at his elbow and then the popliteal artery behind each knee, bleeding him to keep him weak and pliant. He gave him water, but no food. 

After what might have been a week - but felt like longer - Kit woke up once more in Devlin's dark bedroom, alone, stiff and feeling much older than his 21 years. Glancing up into a dark, full-length mirror propped against a wall facing the bed, he startled.

His hazel eyes looked hollow and tired. There were marks all over his body - bruises and scars, cuts and scratches, old and new. His skin was mottled in purple, blue, yellow, green, red, reddish-black, pink, and his ribs and collarbone stood out sharply. 

Naked and wrapped in rumpled sheets, shoulders sloped, he looked very small. 

I've got to get out, soon. I'm not gonna survive like this. 

The door creaked and suddenly Devlin was standing there, looking sleek and cruel in a steel-coloured bespoke suit and shiny shoes that gleamed in the light from the door. Kit covered his eyes with his arm, the light stinging them. 

"We are going to a card game in New Mexico. At a private venue. You're to deal the cards," Devlin said, tossing him a bundle that Kit caught reflexively. 

It was a black silk playsuit, just like the first one. When Kit saw it all the memories of that night came rushing back and his hands started trembling. 

You bastard. 

Devlin smirked, eyes hard. "What are you waiting for?" 

A few hours later they were in the car, driving, Devlin giving him the details of his assignment as if nothing had changed. As if he had not told Kit that he loved him... As if the young werewolf had not turned him down, shouting that he hated him. 

Did that mean he would ignore it? That things would go back to the way they had been? 

"This meeting is to smooth things out between us and a few Latino gangs we have been having -  conflicts of interest - with. You remember, Kitty."

Kit remembered long nights stitching up knife cuts and trying to close bullet wounds, Kosta and Ilya dragging away bodies so mangled they were barely recognisable. He remembered standing behind Devlin and biting his lip so that he would not cry out or throw up as he watched - 

Don't think. Don't remember. 

"There will be someone there you recognize," Devlin promised.