“Wait,” Win said, sounding like an order.

  Win appeared conflicted, squinting at Darragh like he was looking through him or mapping a strategy around him.

  The effect was emasculating and unnerving. “Wait for what?” Darragh asked, his voice meek and uneven.

  Win didn’t answer at first. He just stared at Darragh with narrowed eyes and a locked jaw.

  Finally, in a friendly tone of voice, Win said, “Let me take the lead on this interview.” It sounded like a polite request, but Darragh knew better. Win was pureblood. Darragh was not.

  “Okay,” he squeaked.

  Win blinked and smiled. Then he looked at Darragh again as if appraising him for the first time, and liking what he saw. Darragh blushed at the attention, confused and alarmed. What is happening?

  Plenty returned to the galley, looking a bit more nervous than last time. He sat across from them and waited for Darragh to question him, but Darragh was speechless.

  “Hello,” Win spoke with a winsome smile.

  Plenty nodded, “Hi.”

  “I’m so glad I got to meet you,” Win said with a lot of aggressive enthusiasm. Then he just stared at Plenty, looking like the cat that caught the canary.

  Darragh had no idea what was happening, but evidently, Plenty understood, because suddenly, he was up and stumbling backward, looking like a trapped animal.

  “No, no, don’t be scared!” Win said soothingly. “It’s gonna be alright, I give you my word. So long as you don’t do anything rash or unwise. You’re gonna lead us to your family, and then we’re all gonna have a nice sit-down. That’s all.”

  Plenty was trembling. “That’s not going to happen,” he growled.

  Win turned his attention to the beautiful cat familiar sitting on his shoulder. He gave the cat head scritches and forehead nuzzles, all while saying, “You misunderstand. I can have your wife and daughter seized right now, from anywhere in the city. But then I would have to inform my elders and involve peacekeepers. They would have questions for you. And well… you wouldn't want them involved, would you?”

  Plenty watched with defeat written in the lines of his face.

  “Hm,” Win smugly concluded.

  Then he turned his attention to Darragh, who watched this unfold with a mix of confusion, awe, fear, and erotic admiration.

  “Would you mind leaving Red here on the ship while we go meet the family? Someone should keep an eye on our suspect, don’t you think?”

  Again, Win made it sound like a polite request, and again, Darragh knew better. It was an order: leave your familiar here.

  Darragh nodded. “Yeah, okay. Red, go… go and tell the captain to… um… keep everyone here for now.”

  Red dropped his head low and looked back and forth between Darragh and Win, but Red couldn’t refuse a direct order, so he growled low and then stomped out of the galley, his claws scraping loudly against the floors.

  With a long sigh, Win stood up to look Plenty down. Then he said, “Lead the way.”

  They moved, and Darragh followed in a haze. He kept asking himself, What just happened? He’d completely lost control of the situation. Win was leading the investigation now. All Darragh could do was nod his head and follow commands like a good dog.

  The strangest part was how easy and natural it felt.

  Win was perfect. Even his name spoke to his station in life. A winner. A purebred touched by the hand of Godfather. It felt natural that Darragh should serve him. Perhaps even worship him?

  A storm of emotions roiled in Darragh as he followed Win, his eyes following Win’s thin waist and firm butt, the roll of his shoulders as he walked, the fullness of his sandy blonde hair, kept modestly short, but not so short you couldn’t run your fingers through it and get lost in his waves…

  If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Darragh shook his head, trying to shake off these sinful thoughts, knowing Win could read his emotions. He tried to control himself, but he was spiraling with anxiety. Win must know. He must have read me like a book! Why is he doing this?

  They marched along the pier and up to the Customs Building, Darragh trotting close behind in a daze. He hardly noticed the concierge behind the mahogany front desk. She directed them upstairs to room 8, but before they went up, Win commandeered an extra room for private interrogations.

  Darragh followed in a silent trance, too impressed and intimidated to question anything, hardly noticing his surroundings.

  They walked upstairs to a long hallway with warm yellow aetherlight and rich red carpeting.

  When they arrived outside room 8, Win said, “Hold on,” then he turned his head to address the cat on his shoulder, and he said, “Wait here with them. I’ll return shortly.”

  The cat blinked in response.

  Win reached out and rested a hand on Plenty’s shoulder. The cat delicately walked along Win’s arm until she took a new perch on Plenty’s shoulder, who was bright red in the face with a stony expression.

  Win said to Plenty, “Go on inside. Keeper Darragh and I have something to discuss first. We’ll be right in.” Win sounded almost friendly, leaving the threat unspoken.

  Plenty tried to conceal his confusion and discomfort. Then he knocked on the door to room 8 and it opened promptly. A strangely attractive woman with black waves and a muscular frame opened the door. Behind her, a strange-looking child with white hair sat on a bed. She looked at Darragh with uncanny eyes. Instantly, Darragh knew something was odd about that child, something was… wrong… about her.

  But Win greeted them in a jovial tone, “Well met! I’m Brother Winchester and this is my familiar Winifred. My partner and I need to step aside for a moment, but we will be right back. In the meantime, Winnie is a wonderful storyteller and singer. Have fun, and don’t go anywhere. Be back soon.”

  Then Win shut the door and turned to face Darragh for the first time since taking control of the investigation. The smile dropped. Gone was any pretense of friendliness. As he looked Darragh up and down, Win’s eyes were appraising and hungry.

  With a tilt of his head, Win ordered Darragh to follow.

  Darragh’s heartbeat pounded in his ears as he briefly wondered whether he dared refuse… if he even wanted to…

  Win didn’t wait for Darragh to make up his mind. Sauntering over to the room commandeered for “private interrogations,” Win unlocked the door and opened it. Then he stepped aside and motioned for Darragh to enter.

  Darragh barely hesitated before shuffling into the windowless room. Dim golden aetherlight warmed the space. It was small but not cramped. The smell of fresh linens and floral beeswax candles filled the air. The only furniture was a single bed, a dresser, and a wooden table with two chairs. A painting of a landscape hung on the wall, but Darragh took little notice of it.

  Darragh’s mind was awhirl with anxieties and desperate hope. He felt naked without Red. And now with Victoria in the other room, they were entirely alone. No familiar would remember what was said or done here. Not even Godfather could see them now. Why did Win want to be alone with him? Darragh tried to calm himself and clear his mind, certain he had already revealed too much.

  Win shut the door and gently told Darragh to take a seat.

  Ever faithful, Darragh sat at the table. He dug his fingernails into the wood under his seat.

  Win remained standing, eyes locked on Darragh. There was a smirking satisfaction to his expression, as if he’d won a prize. His breathing was languid, and when he spoke, it was in a sultry whisper.

  “I know, Darragh,” he said while stepping forward.

  Darragh tried to affect nonchalance. He knew Win was an empath, so lying was probably wasted effort. But knowing isn’t everything.

  “Know what?” Darragh pretended.

  “I know your shames. I know your desires. I know what you want,” he said kindly. “I knew the instant you looked at the cat fur on my chest.”

  Darragh’s lip trembled. His eyes were filling with emotion and panic.

  “I just want to serve,” Darragh said quietly.

  Win sighed kindly and held Darragh’s cheek in his hand, drying his tears and lifting his head to look him in the eyes. When did he get so close?

  “I know. But that’s not all, is it? You want more.”

  Darragh looked up in confusion and desperate hunger. Tears broke and fell down his face.

  “You want security,” Win continued. “You want salvation. I can give you what you want.”

  With firm yet gentle guidance, Win pulled Darragh off the chair and onto his knees, his fingers tangled in the red curls of Darragh’s hair.

  Darragh tried to remember the last time he’d been touched, but he couldn’t think. He could barely breathe. He was entirely in the palm of Win’s hands and loving every second of it. To be seen. Desired. On his knees, worshiping a man worthy of worship. Darragh would have done anything, given anything, to remain forever under Win’s perfect thumb.

  Darragh closed his eyes, afraid of the rising passion inside him. “What do you want from me?” he asked, hungry and afraid.

  Win smiled. “Be mine,” he said. “Serve me.”

  Darragh looked up with desperate longing. “What do you want me to do?”

  Win inhaled slowly. He seemed to expand, filling the room with ripe satisfaction. He licked his lips as though tasting victory, then Win sighed and smiled as he looked down at a kneeling Darragh.

  Delicately, he brushed his thumb across Darragh’s open lips.

  “Do exactly as I say.”