Chapter Four

I lost track of how much time we'd spent in bed.

Which was probably a bad idea because I had other things I wanted to do. Like contact Kristoff about the tea party or Blaine to see how he was doing and the baby too, or cook or-- Who, who am I kidding? There was nothing I'd rather do than lay in bed with Hannibal.

It was dark out by the time we woke up from a nap.

Hannibal was laying in the bed beside me, his face against my stomach, his arm draped over my waist. His sleep, as before, was so silent that it would've worried me if it wasn't for the twitch in his muscles that told me he was still alive. He was totally naked beneath the blankets, his black hair fanned out across the bed like an ink spill. His neck and chest was decorated in a colorful array of hickeys. One of my hands was buried in his hair, the other resting across my stomach.

I lifted my head and turned to see the clock on my night stand that indicated it was nine at night. I sighed and looked down at Hannibal, smiling lightly at the way he slept. How nice it would be to sleep so peacefully...

But then, I wondered... Hannibal was so good at hiding his emotions when he was awake. Was he that good while he slept? Maybe in his dreams?

No, don't you fucking dare, Akin.

I swallowed hard, squeezing my eyes shut and gritting my teeth. I couldn't do that to him. I had promised myself I wouldn't walk into dreams anymore, not after what happened last time. It was a horribly dangerous move on my part. I didn't want to end up like my mother. Thinking about it only hurt worse. I hated myself for even wondering for a moment.

But it still clung to me, no matter how much I fought it.

I wanted to know. I needed to know.

Before my powers could get the best of me, Hannibal woke up with a murmur. It was a language I'd never heard before. I looked down to see his eyes flicker open as he with drew his hand from me to rub the heel of his palm into his eye. I managed to push my earlier thoughts out the window as I smiled down at him, stroking the hair back from his face.

"Good evening, pet." I greeted him. He blinked a few times, then closed his eyes again and pressed his lips to my abs.

"Good evening, sir." He responded. I resisted the urge to smile like an idiot. Instead, I just pet Hannibal's hair affectionately until I decided it was time we got out of bed. Couldn't spend the whole day there.

Well, we could.

But it wouldn't be productive.

Well, maybe.

Damn it.

I shook my head and managed to force myself and Hannibal out of bed. I let him shower with me so I could wash his hair, awed by how long and soft it was as I ran shampooed fingers through his hair. I twisted it around my hand, but didn't pull. Just admired the way it slid around my hand so perfectly, like a glove. I let go of his hair to let it rinse under the water before I ran my hand down his side until it settled over his hip, just above the cattle brand on his hip. My smile melted as pain assailed me.

Maybe I couldn't figure out what happened between him and Abel, but maybe he'd tell me how this happened. I wanted to know, in case I ran into anyone else from his past, because friend or no friend, whoever did this to him was going to be bitchslapped to the max.

"Hannibal?" I asked gently.

"Yes, sir?" He asked, scrubbing soap down his arm. I watched the way he did it with a masculine grace that you rarely found nowadays. Something about it was almost ancient. How odd. I rested my head on his shoulder, stroking my thumb over the brand.

"Will you tell me how this happened?" I asked. Hannibal stopped scrubbing his arm. I waited to see if he would tell me. It was probably pushing it, but I had to know. Curiosity was one of my weaknesses, especially when it came to things like that. I had no right to ask him, even as his Dom. Those kinds of secrets were scars on the soul, not just the body. I was about to tell him it was all right, he didn't have to say anything, when he spoke.

"My brother branded me."

"Your brother?"

"Yes. My second eldest."

"How many brothers do you have?"

"Four."

"Did they do this to you a lot?"

"Yes."

"And your parents?"

"They did too." Hannibal answered hollowly. My chest tightend and grief choked me. What kind of family would do such a thing? His own brothers, his own parents? I swallowed down the lump in my throat, dipping my head to kiss Hannibal's shoulder. The fact that, even now, willingly stepping into a relationship like this with me was... was amazing. Why would he want to be sexually teased and spoken to the way I did, after having put up with that?

Had he grown so used to being hurt that, without it, he felt incomplete? Was that even a thing?

My heart broke for him. It made me want to cradle him and protect him from anything out there. My mother really had been right. There were a lot of monsters out there, wearing the masks of the innocent to stay hidden. People that wore the mask of family, and yet, used it as an excuse to cause a great deal of harm.

I considered myself incredibly lucky to have had a mother like mine. She wasn't the easiest person to deal with all the time, and she took on the most degrading jobs just so she could feed us when we didn't have a home, and she did box me on the ears a few times, but I know she loved me and would have moved heaven, hell, and earth just to keep me safe. I couldn't imagine my childhood without her. Even now, when I looked back on our best memories, my heart ached to have her back.

"Even your mother?" I asked after a moment, tredding the waters of this sort of intimacy lightly. Hannibal tilted his head, his expression still flat as ever, almost bored, like the topic meant absolutely nothing to him, not even a sliver of pain.

"My mother gave me to my father when I was an infant."

"They weren't together?"

"He raped her." Hannibal said emptily. Pain lacerated my heart. That kind of sick twisted thing disgusted me. I would never understand why anyone felt they had to do such a thing, for dominance or power or whatever the hell excuse they used, none of it was a good enough reason to try and hurt someone like that. Sex was sacred, a beautiful thing between two people. It wasn't supposed to be used as a weapon. Never, ever, a weapon. I kept that to myself, though. I wasn't quite sure how Hannibal felt about his father, and I didn't want to offend him by spitting on his image.

"So your father took you in. And did you have a stepmother?"

"Yes."

"Was she nice?" I asked. Hannibal was silent for a moment and I wondered if I had stepped on a piece of history that was best meant to be left buried, but he spoke after a moment, his voice laced with a bitter humor that made my stomach churn.

"When she wasn't beating me or testing her blades on me, yes. I suppose she was quite polite when necessary." He told me. I grimaced. I couldn't understand that kind of cruelty. Having grown up with a mother who, well to be quite blunt, loved me more than anything in the world, and compared to Hannibal, who grew up with a family so foul that Lucifer himself wouldn't want to consider them as residents in Hell.

"Did you get along with any of your brothers?" I asked. Hannibal stared straight ahead now, like he was thinking very deeply about something before he looked down as he rubbed a bar of olive oil soap over his skin, making it sleek and wet. If I wasn't so agonized by his past, I'd probably start groping him.

"Not really," Hannibal said at last, his eyes following the bar of soap as he slid it down his chest, right along the center of the scar that seemed to cut him in half, "A few times they left me alone, but it was very rare. Lately, they haven't bothered me." I frowned.

"Those bastards are still alive?" I asked, irritated. How could anyone let four horrible people like that still wander around freely? I winced when I realized what I'd said. I looked at Hannibal, but the glow in his dual-colored eyes indicated he was amused by me.

"Yes, sir," He said, putting the soap away and letting the water rinse him off, "They're immortal."

"Someone can still kill them. Why haven't you?"

"They reminded me that the attempt was rather stupid."

"So you tried?"

"Twice."

"Third time's a charm, huh?" I asked with a sigh. Hannibal gave me a short nod. I shook my head at that and returned to cleaning his hair, stripping all the shampoo from it and letting the water glide over the glossy strands. His hair was so soft. How did he manage that? We finished showering and stepped out. I grabbed a towel and dried him off. He seemed a little confused by that, and I could tell he wasn't used to having people do things for him.

I may ask him to cook and pretty much do whatever I say, but I wanted to do things for him too. I wanted to pamper him, and I wanted to train him, teach him, and love him.

I dressed him afterwards in leather pants and a long sleeved black V-neck. I buckled his collar on for him and then sent him downstairs to whip us up something good for dinner. I stripped the sheets down to clean them and cleaned off all the toys we used last night.

And would probably use again later.

I glanced at the time and it was nearly eleven. We definitely had time to go out to the club, and this time, I wasn't going to let anyone ruin it. I finished cleaning up the room and the toys before heading downstairs, relieved at the rich smell of Asian food that made my skin tingle and stomach growl something vicious. If I remembered correctly, we had skipped lunch.

Well, the food part.

The sex part we seemed to nail pretty well.

Ha.

I met with Hannibal in the kitchen where he was setting out two plates, both with equal portions, much to my relief. He'd taken my advice about eating more to heart. That pleased me. He was listening to me. I sat down at the bar and watched him eat. He still ate in tiny bites, a habit I'm sure would be hard to break, but with enough time, I was positive he would improve.

"We're going to the club again," I told Hannibal, "I want to do some dancing and drinking and show you off to all my friends." Hannibal nodded. I took another bite of food and sighed blissfully at the rich assortment of flavors that assaulted my tastebuds.

"Gods, you are a really good cook. Where did you learn to do it?" I asked. I had almost been worried in the beginning that I would have to do the cooking, which would be awful because I can't cook worth a damn. My tastebuds were dead until someone else cooked.

"I served Hades for a few hundred years and he forced me to learn." He answered. I looked up at him, surprised.

"I feel sorry for you." I commented. Hannibal looked at me.

"What do you mean? Sir."

"Well, I don't know about you, but Hades is really good at rubbing me the wrong way. He's always bullying his sons." I muttered dryly, remembering all the horrible things he'd done to them. He demoted Abel and stole half his powers. He was forcing Blaine to give birth to his children, which I knew for a fact pissed Cerberus off to no end. He ensalved Charon's boyfriend, Alexion. He stole Zelios's voice. He kicked Malachi out to Inferi when he was an infant. And I would come up with something for Theo, but Theo kind of deserved everything he got from Hades from the way those two went at each other like two goats on a mountain top.

"He loves them," Hannibal said mechanically, making me look up with a frown, curious as to why he sounded so odd-- robotic even, but his expression was blank, "He won't show it and he won't say it, but he does. He would risk his godhood for them and his punishments are lenient compared to what other fathers could do."

A chill went through me at that. If what Hades did was considered affectionate, I was horrified to know what Hannibal's father had done to him to make him say that. Then I noticed something that made me frown.

"Your father's a god?" I asked. Hannibal looked down at his plate, not saying a word. I frowned further, putting my fork down.

"Hannibal, I asked you a question." I said sternly. Hannibal hesitated, the fork pushing against his bottom lip, like he was debating to answer me or not. If he didn't, I'd probably have to give him a good dozen spanks. I hated being ignored.

"Yes, sir." Hannibal said at last.

"Which one?"

"He's in Tartarus." Hannibal replied hollowly. I frowned, trying to go through a list of gods that I knew who were imprisoned in Tartarus when a cold feeling settled into my blood. I turned to face him fully, watching him continue his meal like our discussion held no importance whatsoever.

"Your father's a Titan." I stated. Hannibal didn't answer, but he didn't need to. His silence told me enough. If his father was a Titan, he was half-Titan. The only other half-Titan I knew was Adrian, Malachi's buddy, but he was also half-human. A demigod in its purest form. But half-Titan wasn't normal. The Titans were looked down upon now. Granted, their reign had been a rather good one and their worshippers were very submissive to them, and flourished strongly, but they did it through fear. And not to mention, they weren't very family oriented when it came to their kids.

Just ask Hades. He spent a few years swimming in his father's stomach acid.

Thinking about it made me shudder. It made sense as to why Hannibal's family was so awful to him. I wanted to ask who his father was, which Titan, but I didn't need to ask him. The more I thought about it, went through a list of those Titans myself, I came to the conclusion that Iapetus had to be his father. He was a tyranical bastard that had actually driven out demons who were fleeing Lucifer's arrival in Hell at the time. The demons had begged to stay behind, not wanting to serve under one of God's fallen angels, but Iapetus refused and drove them back, killing them if they should try to stay and hide amongst the demons of our pantheon.

He was also the only Titan I could think of with four powerful sons and a wife. Most of the gods had multiple children and wives, but Iapetus was a little different when it came to children. He very obviously did not want very many, and four was enough, so adding a fifth one, and the youngest no less? It was a miracle Iapetus even let Hannibal live.

"My mother was a Christian demon," I told Hannibal after a long silence, making him look up to stare at me, "She was with the demons that tried to flee Lucifer's fall to Hell. After she was driven back, she was stripped of all her possessions and left for dead. She had to resort to prostitution to make a living. Until she met my father. He took her in and helped her get back on her feet. I personally think it was the fact that they were the same species."

"What demon would that be, sir?" Hannibal asked quietly. I stared at Hannibal for a moment, wondering if I should say anything, but I had been the one to push him into confessing his past and family to me. There was no point in hiding it from him.

"My mother was a succubus and my father was an incubus." I said. I waited for him to be disgusted or angered. Most people didn't respect my species. While most demons attacked out right, my species didn't. We went for where people were at their weakest.

In their dreams.

And the worst part was the addiction to the power that provided us. It took an incredible amount of energy to be able to infiltrate dreams. What made our power different from typical astral projection was the fact that whatever we did to the person in their dreams, happened to them in real life. So if someone were to be stabbed in their dream, they would wake up with a stab wound. It was an awesome power and took years of training to perfect, to be able to hold the form and do it effectively.

But it was a sneak attack and demons weren't fond of that. Demons acted on natural fighting instinct. They preferred a bar brawl to sneaking into their house at night while they slept to kill them. They called it a coward's move. And so had my mother.

"Don't ever fall for the charms of dreams, baby," She used to tell me, "It's a coward's attack. Attack your opponent's face, not his back."

And that was one of the reasons I didn't dream walk. I wasn't going to get addicted to the power and I wasn't going to hurt anyone like that. If they wanted a piece of me, I was going to rip their face off, not destroy their dreams, a person's fondest moments.

"So that's why you're so good at what you do." Hannibal said at last. I looked at him, confused.

"What?"

"The sex." Hannibal deadpanned. I smirked, resting my elbow on the counter. So much for being afraid he'd hate me. He just seemed amused by it. Granted, the sleep attack wasn't always used for actual attacking, it could also be used for having some of the greatest sex in the world. We were known for being seductive and alluring, and very talented.

Yeah.

I could own up to that.

Guilty as charged.

"Yes, I suppose that is a good excuse," I said with a nod, then pushed away from the counter, "Well, I'm all done. I'm just gonna do something with my hair. You can finish and clean up. I'll be right down." Hannibal nodded and finished his meal before doing the dishes, which I actually didn't ask him to do, but I was pleased that he did it anyway. I put my hair up in a ponytail, sideswept my bangs, and tied raven feathers into my ponytail near the pale blue scrunchie.

I came downstairs to get Hannibal before we teleported to the Goth club a few blocks down. It was super crowded tonight, mostly due to the fact that it was Friday the 13th and a sacred day for a lot of creatures. They were having a half off sale on their drinks at the bar, much to my pleasure. Once we got past Benny at the door, we took our seats at the bar and ordered a couple of drinks.

Every so often, I would glance at Hannibal to see how he was doing. He seemed comfortable, but it was still hard to tell when he was happy. I knew when he was pissed because his muscles clenched up and a tic throbbed in his jaw and his eyes turned sharper than deadly daggers. I knew when he was horny and amused and interested and curious, but happy? That was a whole new ball game that I intended to play until I won.

The music thumped and throbbed in the club, vibrating glasses and window panes. People chattered and laughed and sang along with the Germanic lyrics of the song that sounded more like shrieking agony and an organ playing to add to the eeriness, but only succeeded in making it more annoying. I dragged Hannibal out onto the dance floor anyway and started to dance. I pulled Hannibal right up against me so I could grind myself up against him. I felt him react instantly to my touch and he let me rolled his hips in my hands, making him move.

The strong scent of booze, cigarette smoke, and sweat throbbed in the air with the music around me. It felt like my blood was starting to ripple and tremble from the strength of it. Bright red, purple, green, and white lights flashed around like lightening streaking through the sky, the ever thumping music the thunder that shook the building. The bodies encased like worms trapped in a box.

All of this happening around me, but the only thing I cared for was the body in front of me, breathing raggedly from how hard I was rubbing against him. His long glossy black hair reflecting the lights, draped over one broad shoulder, dark lashes flicking down before pulling open again to reveal mismatched eyes. A bright vivid blue that looked like it was always glowing, a dimly glowing lightbulb, and the other a deep milky white that one could easily mistake as being blind, unless you go close enough to see it shifting, following you.

"Akin!" I was actually irritated that someone had ruined my trance. I had been so sucked into watching Hannibal dance with me that I hadn't noticed Bella and Kristoff approaching me. Hannibal and I turned to face them as they approached us.

Bella was rather adorable with her black pixie cut sprayed with silver glitter, her red eyes glowing in the darkness. She wore a red plaid schoolgirl skirt and a black button up shirt, red tie, tons of safety pins decorating her outfit, and tall red striped stockings that disappeared into her black biker boots.

Kristoff was taller than her, close to my height, if not three inches or so shorter. Depends, because tonight he was wearing black boots with a bit of a heel. He was a rather handsome guy with dark brown hair with red dyed tips, cut just above his shoulders with side swept bangs. He wore a long coat with a shirt made to look like a spider web, seeing through to his sunkissed skin, and a pair of black jeans finishing off his attire.

"Hey," Kristoff greeted me warmly, "Bella told me you got a new sub." I nodded, gesturing to Hannibal, who seemed to be analyzing Kristoff to determine whether he was a threat or not. I couldn't yell at him for a habit that came naturally to him.

"Kristoff, this is Hannibal. Hannibal, Kristoff." I said. Kristoff nodded to Hannibal, who just tilted his head like he was curious about his existence. Like a puppy. Kristoff seemed amused by that before he looked at me.

"How is he?" He asked.

"Amazing," I exclaimed, "He's such a good boy. And he's a great cook."

"About time you found one that could cook," Kristoff commented, "I was afraid I'd have to call one of mine up to service you." I grinned at that. While Kristoff and Bella were dating, Kristoff actually had two other subs, both of whom were not in a relationship with him. Bella respected Kristoff's choice, so long as he didn't have sex with them. He could only "train" them. He was the type of guy who threw a hissy fit at anyone who misinterpreted the BDSM community, so he happily taught people who were interested.

"And he's good looking too," Bella commented, smiling brightly up at Hannibal, who stared at her like he was wondering if she was blind, "Totally rugged and badass! I'd never expect someone like him to be a sub. Or did you have to beat him into it?" I laughed, shaking my head.

"No way. He's a sweet little thing-- to me. Can't say the same for some people." I added dryly and Bella nodded in understanding. Kristoff arched a brow and Bella took that as her cue to explain as she told him about Dimitri popping into the shop. Kristoff curled his lip at the mere mention of Dimitri. Suffice it to say, Dimitri wasn't apart of our little club.

"That disgusting leech is still taking subs? Who's his sub now?"

"Not sure." I admitted. Bella frowned thoughtfully.

"Yeah, I dunno either. I asked for his name, but Dimitri slapped him when he started to answer me, so not sure, but I feel so sorry for the poor thing. Dimitri was so pissed about the run in with you, Akin, that he took it out on the little guy. I hope he gets enough brains to leave the douchebag." She huffed, folding her arms over her chest. Kristoff nodded in agreement, putting an arm around Bella's waist to hold her close, as if the thought of Dimitri being anywhere near us threatened her.

"He'll get what's coming to him. Although," He added, glancing at Hannibal briefly before looking at me, "You probably should control your sub a little more. Dimitri may act like he's big talk, but he might actually do something psycho if he gets angry enough. Shapeshifters are devious." I nodded in agreement. Having one for neighbor taught me plenty, after Garett snuck into my house as a rat and chewed through my electrical wiring. The shithead.

"Well," Bella declared, "We came here to party! Let's get some drinks. Is that okay?" She looked at Kristoff, who nodded. She beamed and let Kristoff lead the way through the crowd as we came to the bar again and Kristoff ordered us a round of drinks as a treat.

"What is Kristoff?" Hannibal's voice in my ear caught me off guard. I wasn't used to him just talking on his own without me having to say something first. I smiled at him.

"He's a vampire too. He won't drink from us, though. He either drinks from Bella or someone who pisses him off." I informed. Hannibal seemed to relax at that, to a degree. He still looked pretty tense and that worried me. Didn't he trust Kristoff? I'd known him for years and he'd never given me a reason to hate him. In fact, he was the one who'd brought me into the BDSM community in the first place.

"What's wrong?" I asked. Hannibal furrowed his brow into a frown.

"I just feel something bad coming. I thought it was him," He looked around again, then back at me, "But it wasn't." I was a little concerned by that. Hannibal, my big badass boy, felt something that unnerved him? That bothered me. If something could make him uneasy, it sure as hell bothered me.

"What do you think it is?" I asked. Hannibal shook his head.

"I don't know, sir."

"I'll keep an eye out. You stay alert too." I advised. Hannibal nodded. I reached out, cupping his face and giving him a kiss on the cheek as a reward for being honest with me, and ever so watchful. I swore I saw his expression soften for a moment before he looked away almost bashfully, eyeing the crowds now.

Something bad?

I really did not like the sound of that.