The man sitting across from him handed him a small towel, which he put to his bleeding nose. “Thanks,” he muttered, tilting his head back, trying to staunch the blood flow. “Can you tell I haven’t done this in a while?” Ryan laughed. The man smiled warmly.
“It was probably purer than you’re ever done. We buy quality, not quantity, Ryan. Handling it with simply a minor nose bleed, that’s impressive. Most either throw up or pass out when they do their first line from us. But you didn’t. Why is that?”
Ryan chuckled, taking the cloth from his nose. “Like I said, I haven’t done this in a while. But I have done it. And I buy pure, too. I only do quality.” The man smiled. “And that makes you a perfect candidate, Ryan.” He turned to the man sitting next to him.
“Would you be so kind as to pour Mr. Ross a drink?” he said, his tone implying it was more of a deand than a question. The other man nodded, reaching out and opening the mini-fridge next to him. He paused.
“What would you like, Mr. Ross?” Ryan pondered for a moment. “Ummm… a martini?” The man produced a pre-mixed and full glass, olive and all, and handed it to Ryan. He took the glass with a smile and a nod, then proceeded to pour the contents into his mouth, relishing the burn. The man in front of him smiled. “Very good, Ryan. When you awaken, we’ll have a discussion regarding your future with us.”
Ryan nodded, his eyelids beginning to droop. “I’d like that,” he said, yawning. The man smiled. “That’s it, Ryan. Go ahead and sleep. That’s it. Just sleep, you pretty little thing.” Ryan’s head nodded down against his chest, brown hair flopping down into his face. The man smiled. “I think we’ve made a wise decision,” he said, reaching over to tilt up Ryan’s chin. He studied the slender man’s prominent features for a moment and then let his head fall back down.
He settled back into his seat. The driver rolled down the window that divided the cab from the rest of the limousine.
“Is everything in order, sir?” he asked. The man’s eyes flitted to Ryan’s limp form. “Yes. Yes, I believe so,” he replied. The driver nodded. “Let me know if you require something, sir.” The man nodded, signaling the end of the conversation. The driver rolled the window back up and the man settled in for the drive.
Brendon had just begun to doze off when he felt it. It was as if somebody was trying to pull his brain from his skull. He gasped, one hand going to his head, his eyes squeezing shut. Then he saw something in his mind’s eye. It was Ryan. He was in some kind of car, blood pouring from his nose. His head was bent down and Brendon couldn’t tell if we was unconscious or dead. Brendon’s blood ran cold.
“Ryan! Ryan?!? Baby, wake up! Wake up! Ryan, please! For the love of God, wake up!”
“Wake up! Ryan, please! For the love of God, wake up!” Ryan could hear his voice calling to him through the blackness.
“Brendon?” he asked timidly, trying to open his heavy, heavy eyes. He heard movement in front of him.
“Is he waking up?” Fingertips touched the side of his face. “That’s impossible. The doseage I put in his drink should inhibit him from awakening until much later.”
“No, no! Please open your eyes, Ryan! Do it for me!”
“Brendon?” he asked again, fighting to open his eyes. It took an extraordinary amount of will power and force, but we did it.
“Oh, thank God. Ryan, honey. Where are you?”
Ryan looked around, his head barely moving. “Where are you taking me?” He slurred, the drugs still heavy in his bloodstream.
“That is classified information that I am not at liberty to disclose to you until you have proven your loyalty to us, Mr. Ross.”
Ryan stared at him. “Where am I? Did you kidnap me? What’s going on? Let me go!”
“That’s it, sugar! Fight them! Just get away from them and I’ll come find you. Come on, Ry!”
“Brendon?” he asked again, struggling to lift his head and look around. He picked up his arm with great difficulty and began reaching for the door.
“Please stay where you are, Mr. Ross. If you continue to struggle, I will be forced to subdue you.”
Ryan continued to move for the door. The man sighed. “I do apologize for this, Mr. Ross.” He reached into his pocket and pulled a small, silver object out. He pressed it to Ryan’s neck and pushed a button. Ryan screamed, his muscles spasming under the taser. Then he slumped to the side, his empty martini glass falling from his lap and onto the floor.
So I obviously don't believe that Brendon and Ryan can telepathically communicate, or whatever it was they were doing, but I thought it made the Chapter more interesting and it's vaguely relevant to the next chapter. Sorry about the cliffhanger and I'll update soon! xoxo, k