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Hiccup didn’t mean to scream as the needle pierced the back of his neck. Not that it didn’t hurt of course—the needle was a wide gauge and went deep—but he was screaming more because of what it was.
A chip. A goddamned tracking chip. Like he was some kind of animal.
Viggo chuckled and withdrew the needle. He was very clearly amused by his subject’s pain and distress. He patted Hiccup on the shoulder, and there was nothing Hiccup could do but flinch. He was strapped down to the exam table on his stomach.
“Why?” Hiccup asked in a voice choked with tears.
“Just in case you try anything clever,” Viggo told him. He flipped back Hiccup’s hair again to look at where he’d inserted the chip, as if he doubted his work.
Hiccup said nothing. He couldn’t promise anything, couldn’t say he wouldn’t try to escape. Again. One failure wasn’t enough to deter him.
But maybe this chip would.
Viggo leaned down, his lips finding the curve of Hiccup’s ear. He rubbed over the injection sight, making Hiccup groan at the terrible ache of it.
“You’ll be mine forever, my dear Hiccup.”
Hiccup just kept his mouth shut tight. No point in being defiant right now. How could he when he felt like his chest was going to burst from all the turmoil and emotion within him?
No one could argue against it now. Hiccup was property of Viggo Grimborn.