Page 7 of Mindeater

“We are going to remove the countermand implant, boy. Come along.” He beckoned, but the boy stood right where he was, focused on Saren’s face.

He tried not to tremble or suck in rapid breaths, but it happened anyway. Was Patryn lying? Would they keep him awake for the procedure? Make him stare into those lights? Allow him to feel those fingers digging into his body and pulling out the bad?

“Saren,” Patryn snapped, his patience thin today. The stink of annoyance filled the room. Even the boy seemed to respond.

“Yes, sir.”

“Control yourself.”

“Y-yes, sir.” He nodded over and over as he backed away into the corner. His left hand came to his belly and held it. The monster twisted and snapped its jaws. A white sheet of static veiled his vision while his breath sawed out of his lungs.

“We have very limited time. Put a step in it,” the older alpha barked, and the boy went with him.

Saren couldn’t move from the corner. He could scarcely breathe. Every inch of him ached from how stiff he’d gone. His heart was a death rattle in his chest. For months, he’d managed to beat back the panic. Focusing on his studies helped him forget what had been done, how much he’d protested and begged Patryn not to allow it. Being an omega wouldn’t affect his mastery—he was strong enough to be whole. They all thought he was worried about a scar, something superficial and vain. A chunk had been hollowed out of his very being, and he’d never get it back.

And they thought it was about a scar.

He slid down the wall, tucked his knees to his chest, and cried. That was supposed to stop after his procedure, too. His emotions should’ve been tamed down to a dull buzz. Manageable. Small. Insignificant. They’d never felt stronger, burned brighter inside him. When he grew so lonely he felt he’d break, Saren would siphon some of them with his mastery, just to make it hurt less. Like an Ouroboros, he’d eat his own emotions, feeding them into his belly to fill the hollow space inside.

He was lucky, after all. Lucky to be so talented. Lucky to be raised in New Grove. Lucky to have a guardian and estate left to him.

He hated the word. Lucky people didn’t live like he did.

3

Saren

The boy came back after dark.

Still groggy from the anesthesia, a thick bandage strapped to his neck and hair pulled into a high bun, Patryn led him by the arm to his room and shut the door. Saren hovered in his doorway, clinging to the frame and hoping for some update. Patryn spared him a single glance and walked away, the faint scent of regret trailing behind him.

Saren waited until the library door shut and the sound echoed up the stairs before he went to the boy. Sick with worry that they’d hurt him like he’d been hurt, Saren didn’t bother knocking and let himself in. Lighting the bedside candle, he stared down at the boy who curled on his side, eyes shut tight, whimpering.

He let himself openly smell the boy and sagged in relief. His scent was still the same—still whole. That eased the weight in Saren’s chest some.

“Are you awake?” he whispered, reaching out a hand, then pulling back at the last moment. His touch might affect the boy now that the implant was removed.

Those dark lashes fluttered as his eyes opened, blinking slowly, lips smacking. Gunmetal eyes flicked to the candle. Saren forced a smile, and the boy frowned. He groaned, gingerly feeling the bandage around his neck.

“Can you speak now?” Yes, he was impatient, but he needed to know everything. If this was to be his friend, they had lots to catch up on.

“R-rr.”

Was he trying to growl?

Saren waited, dropping to sit on the edge of the bed. The boy cleared his throat and tried again. His voice was like a wisp of smoke, barely there, but Saren made sure to listen. “Ryx.”

“Ryx?” he repeated. “Is that your name?” A clipped nod was his only reply. “Seems an odd name for a human,” he murmured, his fingers twitching with the need to see into his mind now that he could. Obviously, Saren knew he wasn’t a human—that was why his mastery ached so.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t seeking out a verbal admission.

“Don’t,” Ryx rasped, eyes fixated on Saren’s hands. “D-don’t.”

He clasped them in his lap and rolled his lips between his teeth. That was a warning. Saren knew it too. The boy’s scent flared with fear, so strong it almost made Saren afraid, too. The repercussions of Other and Telex mingling just weren’t documented. No one really knew what would happen. If only that were enough to sate his infinite curiosity and make him back away. Patryn always said Saren’s curiosity would put him in an early grave.

His silence lasted about three seconds before he burst out, “It will only take a moment. I’m very skilled. You’ll hardly know I’m there.”

And Saren touched Ryx.