“I wouldn’t say I’m starving.”
Ivan snorted. Will got the impression Ivan thought he was an idiot. He probably was by Ivan’s standards. Will had a drink and felt a bit better, not that he’d felt particularly bad. He was still too excited to worry about things like thirst and hunger.
“We need to get going,” Ivan said.
Will followed him back toward the clearing with the pickup. He was surprised to find that it actually wasn't that far away. He must have been walking around in winding, circular ways. This was as good a time as any to ask questions, he figured.
“Do I have any brothers or sisters?”
Ivan shrugged. “Don’t know.”
“How can you not know?”
Ivan glanced over at him. “I didn't know you existed until about three days ago.”
“And you came to get me right away?”
“We’re rare,” Ivan said. “My father’s dead. I was his only surviving son. As far as I know, it’s me and you. That’s it.”
“Oh.”
Will felt quite saddened by that news. He had been hoping to become part of a big, happy pack, he supposed. He hadn’t really given it a lot of conscious thought, but he had some yearning to be part of something larger than himself. Larger than a couple, anyway.
“I could have other bastards,” Ivan said. Will wanted to punch him for the term bastard, but he quickly realized that was actually Ivan’s best attempt at being comforting.
“I guess you don't have a wife then.”
“Never married. Been in and out of prison most of my life.”
“Hey, me too.”
They were back at the campsite again. The fire had been doused and the ashes had been moved about so the smell of wet smoke was thick in the…
“Hey, what are you doing?” Will asked the question at the top of his voice as Ivan grabbed him and dragged him off to a tree where a rope had already been place. He hated how much stronger his father was. Reminded him of being at a similar disadvantage to when he dealt with Maddox, or rather, when Maddox dealt with him. Forcing him back against the tree, Ivan lashed him to the trunk, which was also disturbingly close to something Mad would do, but this time Will was not aroused in the slightest. He was fucking terrified.
“What are you doing?” He asked the question again, hating how pitchy his voice got with fright.
Ivan didn’t answer. He just went back to the ashes of the fire where there was a paper plate with little pieces of chopped up meat on it.
“Ah, fuck, no,” Will cursed as Ivan approached him again, plate in one hand, a piece of meat between two fingers of the other.
“You gotta eat,” Ivan insisted. “Soon as you do, you’ll feel much better, I promise.”
“I don’t want to eat that shit. I want pastry.”
“We can put this in a pie. We can serve it however you like, your lordship,” Ivan said in rough, mocking tones, his eyes narrowed and ultra-blue with determination. “But you’re gonna have a bite today before we get back on the road.”
“No. I’m not.” Will really didn’t want to have to hurt Ivan. He’d waited his whole life to meet his father and this was truly not how he’d thought it would go. Even in his worse nightmares, where he was outright rejected, it wasn’t this horrific.
Ivan made a chuffing sound with his cheeks and lips. For a second, Will thought he’d gone completely mad. Then he realized what was happening.
“Choo choo! Here comes the train, open up!”
“I’m not a bab…” Will didn’t finish the sentence because Ivan had shoved his fingers into his mouth, along with the meat. Fuck this. Fuck everything about this. Will bit down hard on the fingers, taking satisfaction in Ivan’s yowl. He spat the chunk of meat out and kicked out as hard as he could, catching Ivan in the repository of seed from which he himself had come.
“Shit! Fuck!” Ivan grabbed for his balls and dropped the plate.
“I’m not fucking eating that shit,” Will cursed. “Now let me go. I’m not your goddamn baby.”
Ivan didn’t respond right away. He was too busy limp-stepping around the campsite.
“You know how to fight,” he said, sounding impressed for the first time.
“I can take care of myself,” Will said. “Let me go.”
Ivan came back and ruefully untied him.
“You're like me," he said with a smile, as if he was pleased to see his son had spirit. “Won’t do anything anybody else wants you to do, even if it’d be for your own good.”
“I’m pretty sure eating people isn’t going to be for my own good.”
“That’s where you’re wrong. There’s no meat like human flesh.”
Will really didn’t want to talk about it, so he didn’t. He was used to shockingly violent criminals. Prison had given him the opportunity to mix with a great many of them and to witness some seriously callous cruelties. He’d thought nothing could shock him anymore. He was wrong.