any high-tech distractions. Group dynamics were the purpose and focus of these meetings.
"So tell me about last night," he said, eyeing the slayers. "How did it go?"
He listened to the reports, unimpressed with the excuses. There had been two kills the night before. He'd given them a quota of ten.
And it was a disgrace that O, who was so new, had been responsible for both deaths.
Mr. X crossed his arms over his chest. "What's the problem?"
"We couldn't find any," Mr. M said.
"I found one last night," Mr. X snapped. "Quite easily, I might add. And Mr. O found two."
"Well, the rest of us couldn't." M looked at the others. "The numbers in this area have thinned."
"The problem is not geography," a voice muttered from the back.
Mr. X's eyes shifted through the lessers, focusing on O's dark head in the back of the room. He was not surprised that the slayer had spoken up.
O was proving to be one of the best they had, even though he was a new recruit. With terrific reflexes and stamina, he was a great fighter, but like all powerful things, he was hard to control. Which was why Mr. X had put him in with others who had centuries of experience. O was liable to dominate any group made up of individuals even remotely inferior to himself.
"Would you care to elaborate, Mr. O?" Mr. X was not at all interested in the man's opinion. But he was very prepared to show up the new recruit in front of the others.
O shrugged carelessly, and his drawl was just short of insulting. "The problem is motivation. There are no consequences for failure."
"And what exactly would you suggest?" Mr. X asked.
O reached forward, grabbed M by the hair, and slit the other man's throat with a knife.
The other lessers leaped away, crouching into attack positions, even as O sat back down and calmly wiped his blade off with his fingers.
Mr. X bared his teeth. And then got himself under control.
He walked across the room to M. The lesser was still alive, gasping for breath, trying to stem the blood loss with his hands.
Mr. X knelt down. "The rest of you will leave. Now. We will reconvene tomorrow morning, when you will have better news for me. Mr. O, you stay."
When O defied the order and made a move to get up, Mr. X froze the man in the chair, stealing control of the large muscles in his body. O seemed momentarily shocked, clearly trying to fight the hold that was on his arms and legs.
It was a battle he wouldn't win. The Omega always provided a few extra benefits to the Fore-lesser. This kind of mental dominion over fellow slayers was one of them.
As soon as the room had emptied, Mr. X. took out a knife and stabbed M in the chest. There was flare of light and then a popping sound as the lesser disintegrated.
Mr. X glared up at O from the floor. "If you ever pull something like that again, I will turn you over to the Omega."
"No, you won't." In spite of his being at another's mercy, O's arrogance was unchecked. "You wouldn't want to look as if you can't control your own men."
Mr. X stood up.
"Careful, O. You underestimate the Omega's affection for sacrifices. If I were to give you to him as a gift, he would be most grateful." Mr. X walked over and ran a finger down O's cheek. "If I were to tie you down and call him to you, he would enjoy unwrapping you. And I would enjoy watching it."
O snapped his head back, more angry than frightened. "Don't touch me."
"I'm your leader. I can do anything I want with you." Mr. X clamped a hand on O's jaw and forced his thumb in between the man's lips and teeth. He jerked the lesser's face forward. So mind your manners, don't ever take another society member out without my express permission, and we'll get along fine."
O's brown eyes burned.
"Now what do you say to me?" Mr. X murmured, reaching out and stroking the man's hair back. The color was a deep, rich chocolate.
O mumbled.
"I didn't hear you." Mr. X pressed his thumb into the soft, fleshy plot under O's tongue, digging in until tears formed in the other man's eyes. When he removed his grip, he ran a quick, wet caress over O's lower lip. "I said, I didn't hear you."
"Yes, sensei."
"Good boy."
Chapter Thirty-one
Marissa could not get comfortable in her