The room became a hazy red before Val could keep himself in check. Mackie turned toward him, and his eyes fairly popped right before Val lashed out and grabbed the offending club member by the back of his collar. Even with the loud music, the man’s squeak of alarm reached Val’s ears.
He grinned, careful to keep his fangs from showing as he hauled the man up to his face. “Having fun, Mr. Warren?” The older man sputtered and squirmed. “You know the rules, sir. Boys dancing for your entertainment is not a license to be overly friendly. I believe you were crossing a line just now.” He kept his tone moderate, mindful of how much Alex loved his club and living in Boston. Nothing would be gained by causing too much of a fuss.
Mackie all but flew off his stage to join them. “Let go, Val. Mr. Warren was a little overly enthusiastic. He wants a lap dance so badly that he was having a hard time waiting for my time on the stage to end.”
The boy’s proximity was like a magnet for Val. He hated how impossible it was to escape his lure. Reluctantly, Val took his gaze off the patron and swung it over to the little spitfire. Mackie flashed him a grin that was also a warning to knock it off. Smaller than most human men, the boy had never been one to back down, not even when up against someone half-again his height and almost twice his weight.
Mackie placed one delicate hand on Val’s arm. “Come on. Everyone’s glad to see me back. You’re putting a major crimp in my style. You know I can handle myself.”
For a few frightening seconds, Val lost himself in Mackie’s green eyes. It had been so long since they’d interacted directly, Val having been careful to keep his distance. He’d almost forgotten how compelling those human eyes were. The light touch of the boy’s fingers burned through the sleeves of Val’s Armani suit and right down to his flesh. His stupid dick stirred with the memory of what those clever fingers could do.
A tug from Warren, along with a few more sputtering sounds of indignation, forced Val to break free of Mackie’s influence. Loosening his grip, Val eased the club member onto his feet. Val fussed with straightening the man’s jacket.
“My apologies, Mr. Warren. It seems I misconstrued the situation.” Before the man could utter a response, Val whipped out his wallet and pulled a hundred from it. “Please have a few lap dances on me.”
The wealthy man hardly needed the gift but that wasn’t the point. Val turned away and peered down into Mackie’s blazing gaze. He kept staring as he bent to tuck the bill into the already stuffed G-string the boy wore. It was some frilly bit of fabric that was more effeminate and less Goth than Mackie’s previous look had been. It, along with the heavier makeup the boy had plastered onto his face, should have been a turn-off. Val had always preferred males to females. Somehow, on this particular human, the new look only served to make the boy more enticing.
He slid his fingers along the silky skin moist from the boy’s recent exertions. It was how he remembered that flesh. He’d once spent hours trailing his fingers along every inch he could reach, Mackie always purring like a cat at the touch. He’d craved the contact like a starving man did bread.
Yes Val, the one who never forgot, got a jolt of nostalgia. It was a dangerous game he suddenly played. The look in Mackie’s kohl-rimmed eyes confirmed that the human remembered, too. It would take nothing for Val to lean down farther and take those plump, painted lips in a searing kiss that would leave them both breathless.
That way lay madness, however. He had to be strong for both their sakes. So, tucking in the bill, he straightened once more and hastened away with as much dignity as he could muster.
Mackie watched Val leave, the man’s broad back set firmly and his gait confident. No, not a man, an alien. Val was from another world and another time, as well, when one considered that he had been on Earth for a thousand years. And Mackie had thought about it—a lot. His slow recovery from that awful night when his world had turned upside down had left him with plenty of time to ponder the situation. Nearly everyone in the club that he’d started to think of as his family was otherworldly in the literal sense of the word.
I’ve been fucked by an alien. A vampire. I gave my blood and heart to him.
Those notions had been reeling around in Mackie’s head for weeks. It left him slightly queasy and totally confused. He should have been petrified, especially after what he’d suffered at the hands of one of their kind. Alex had killed the asshole in a battle worthy of the best Marvel Universe movie. Mackie had been awed and terrified in equal measure. A sensible person would have blabbed to the police—or at least run fast and far. Mackie had done neither of those things. He’d chosen instead to keep his mouth shut and allowed himself to be installed back into the one place in his life where he’d finally felt safe.
For, despite how Val and his cohorts could make the bravest person’s blood run cold, Mackie didn’t worry for a second that he was in danger with them. Maybe it was because Val had shown such amazing restraint when they’d played upstairs in one of the private club rooms. Mackie had been at the man’s mercy hundreds of times and yet Val had always only brought him the kind of pain that elicited pleasure. Although Mackie had never used his safeword—a point of pride—he’d also never doubted that Val would heed it.
Val had been the first person to treat Mackie with respect, and even affection, albeit in a gruff and remote way. Perhaps that was why Mackie had fallen in love with him. An armchair psychologist would probably say so, not him. Mackie had always felt he and Val had been destined for one another. Together they could tackle anything…until Val had thrown what they’d had away. The man didn’t deserve Mackie’s love or even a second more of consideration.
Mackie forced himself to turn from the sight of Val’s retreating back and focus on someone who appreciated him. He flashed a smile at Warren that was guaranteed to harden a man’s dick and loosen his wallet.
“Sorry about that, sweetie. Val always has a stick up his ass. Let’s go have some fun.”
The older man’s expression changed from indignation to delight, as Mackie expected. And yes, the guy’s thousand-dollar trousers had tented nicely. He understood Mackie’s worth and appreciated getting to spend time with him. Mackie took his somewhat-sweaty hand and led him through the throng of men milling about the dance floor area. Everyone he passed gave him a broad smile or a suggestive wink. They were happy to see him back in action, and the attention lifted Mackie’s spirits.
The money didn’t hurt, either. His new gender-bending HommeMystere thong was packed with bills. They made satisfyingly crinkly sounds as he strutted, careful to put a provocative swing to his hips. It was like a constant musical accompaniment to his sexy strut. He also liked the tangible feel of the cash against his skin. Knowing he had money eased the one thing that he was truly terrified of—poverty. Not having had much money during childhood, he’d known real hunger and homelessness once he’d been kicked out of his house. Blood-sucking aliens didn’t hold a candle to the kind of terror that comes from not knowing where his next meal was coming from or whether he would freeze to death in an alley.
Since he’d started working at the club, he’d found financial security for the first time in his life and not only because Val had kept him as his boy. Mackie was capable of earning his own money, dancing coming naturally to him. Now he had a way to make a great living and a surprisingly plump bank account.
Of course, the one bill that his body somehow distinguished from the others was the hundred that Val had tucked in. Damn the man. Even with their relationship in tatters, he still managed to make Mackie feel owned by him. Not in a way that was demeaning… It was more like being cherished. Worse, a significant part of Mackie was thrilled at the idea. Try as he might, he couldn’t quite quash his love for Val and the need to be dominated by him. All this was despite the vicious way in which Val had cut their bond.
Stop it! Don’t think about him.
Mackie sprinted up the stairs to the second floor, dragging Mr. Warren behind him. “Let’s go find a quiet corner an
d get reacquainted.”
There were lots of big, comfy seats designed to allow a go-go boy to straddle even the widest of hips. A couple of boys were entertaining clients already. On a Saturday night, it was all hands on deck and Alex had recruited a few more dancers in the months during Mackie’s recovery. Normally, Mackie didn’t care about being seen. He would grab the first free space. For some reason, though, he was feeling uncharacteristically shy. So, he went all the way to the far end before depositing his guest on the red velvet seat.
Warren grinned up at him with obvious glee as Mackie climbed up on his lap. “The bouncer gave you a hundred. That’s five songs, right?”
“You know it is, Daddy.” Mackie fluttered his lashes, a move that normally came easily to him, yet felt oddly forced now.
Warren licked his lips. “I want to spend the time touching all of you.” He raised his meaty hands and ran them down Mackie’s back. “Maybe we can get rid of all these pesky bills? They’re getting in the way.”
“Sure, sweetie.” Mackie usually would have already pulled the bills out to form a pile on the seat. For some reason, he’d felt like keeping them in place. They did present a little bit of a barrier.
He inwardly scoffed at the idea. His job involved allowing the patrons to cop a feel, and the more they did, the more they paid. He hadn’t been out of commission that long to have forgotten what the deal was. Making short work of clearing the way for his patron’s grabby fingers, Mackie began to sway his hips in time to the music.
It was like riding a bicycle—not that he’d been on one of those for years. His body knew what to do, the same way it had remembered his routines on the pole. He undulated against the man’s tented pants, rubbing the hard-on inside them with light brushes up and down and side to side. Warren pressed his fingers into Mackie’s ass, hard enough to make him wince. He recovered in time to turn it into what he hoped was a seductive smile.
“Oh, Daddy, I missed you,” he moaned against the man’s ear. He knew what men liked from him. “No one treats me the way you do.” He was there to satisfy club members’ risqué fantasies without running afoul of the law. He could play the slutty boy for them.
“Baby…” Warren’s whiskey breath wafted into Mackie’s face before the man ran his tongue along Mackie’s jaw.
The intimate touch caused Mackie to jerk back. He surprised himself as much as Warren. The man frowned and clenched his fingers even more. “Something wrong?”
To cover up the insulting response, Mackie said, “Sorry, Daddy. I only want to loosen you up a bit. It’s hot in here, don’t you think?”
Warren licked his lips and groaned. “Yeah, so hot.”
Mackie made a fuss about undoing the man’s shirt buttons to expose his chubby, smooth chest. Then Mackie moaned and fawned over it by running his hands down the sweat-slicked skin. All the while, he gyrated against the man’s lap with a fake smile plastered on his face.
What’s wrong with me? This is the job I love.
But, try as he might, he couldn’t work up any genuine enthusiasm for the lap dance. He found himself counting down the songs so he could finish up. Warren, on the other hand, was just getting started. The man bucked up his own hips to meet Mackie’s lap. Their dicks rubbed together, making the man moan with heavy-lidded eyes. Mackie’s cock remained soft, the movement doing nothing for him.
Because it was the wrong dick touching his.
The fifth song was playing when Warren really upped the ante. He slid a finger underneath Mackie’s thong and pressed it against Mackie’s hole. Mackie froze mid-swivel and glared down at the man.
Warren stared back at him with blown pupils. “Come on, baby. Let’s go to one of the private rooms.” He licked his lips again. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
Mackie gave the invitation about two seconds’ worth of thought before practically vaulting off the man’s lap. “Sorry, sweetie. That’s not on the menu tonight.” He grabbed his money and made a show of stuffing it back in his G-string. “I’ll see you later.”
“Hey!” Warren grabbed Mackie’s arm before he could leave. “What gives? Word is you’re not with the bouncer anymore.” He heaved to his feet. “Don’t be a tease now. I said I’d pay you well.”
Mackie let his eyes flash his annoyance. “I’m not teasing. I’m refusing.” He looked pointedly down where the man’s fingers still gripped his arm.
With a sigh, Warren let him go. “Okay, I hear you, but if you change your mind…” The man pulled out his wallet and removed a hundred. “Here. I don’t like another guy paying for my dances. And, it’s a little reminder that I can make your life very easy if you’ll let me.”
Pride waged war with practicality for about three seconds until Mackie remembered that he was an undereducated gay kid with no family to speak of. Snatching the bill, Mackie said, “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
He stuffed it down the front of his thong before sauntering away, to show how unaffected he was by the exchange. He made sure to keep his gait slow and provocative, hiding the sudden turmoil and sadness whirling around inside him. The night had started out so well. Why, then, did he feel cheap and miserable?
Unable to face the rest of the club members—or a particular bouncer—Mackie made a beeline for the boy’s locker room in the back of the club. He’d hoped to find it empty, but no such luck. Quinn and Shawn were there, Quinn still dressed in work ‘clothes’ from their shift. Even though Quinn was banging Alex on the regular, he still insisted on working. He simply didn’t do lap dances anymore, in order to keep Alex from losing his alien shit on club members. Shawn had obviously just taken a shower and stood with a towel wrapped around his hips. They were staring at the flat screen on the far wall.
“What’s up, guys?” While Mackie didn’t feel like socializing, he also didn’t want to let on that he was anything other than happy to be back to work.
Shawn glanced over his shoulder. “Girl, you’ve got to see this.”
Mackie didn’t bother to object to the feminine pronoun. Shawn always spoke like that. Besides, the way Mackie was styling his hair and makeup—not to mention the new outfits—there wasn’t much to complain about. Mackie hadn’t thought hard about his new gender-bending look, although he supposed it was intended to piss off Val or something.
He stepped closer to them. “What’s going on?”
“Some guy is so freaking high that he’s hanging off a balcony at Copley Place.”
As he came abreast of them, Mackie could see and hear the breaking newscast. A young white guy with blond dreadlocks was holding on to the railing with one crooked arm. He was grinning like a maniac and waving like he was on the Jumbotron at Fenway. Although his middle was blurred out to protect the viewing public’s sensibilities, it was obvious that he was buck-naked.
Mackie leaned in to get a better view. “What the fuck?”
“I know, right?” Quinn nudged Shawn. “Turn up the volume. I can’t hear what he’s saying.”
Shawn pressed the remote, and they all got an earful. “I’m a superhero!” the guy called out. “Have no fear, people of Earth. I can fly. Your puny buildings can’t hold me.”
There were a few screams as they guy leaned over. Behind him, police were trying to edge closer. He swung his head wildly in their direction. “You have no power over me. I have the strength of ten of you.” The camera zoomed in the moment the man turned his head back to peer down from where he hung. Mackie’s heart skipped a beat as he got a good look.
“I am more powerful that you can imagine!”
Those were the man’s last words before, spreading his arms out wide, he swan-dived down. The screams were deafening, but Mackie hardly noticed. Instead, he grabbed at Quinn’s arm.
“Did you see his eyes?”
Quinn turned a horror-stricken face to him. “It couldn’t be.”
“What?” Shawn asked. “His eyes were bloodshot. Big deal. Must have been on bath salts or something.”
But no one w
as listening to him. “We need to tell Alex and Val,” Mackie said. Mackie didn’t wait for Quinn to move after he nodded. Instead, Mackie headed for the door with more speed than he’d used to enter it. His melancholy from moments ago had fled in the face of a possible new stage of the alien war.
Chapter Two
“Why don’t you knock off for the night?”
The suggestion surprised Val. He shifted his gaze from the security monitors to his boss. Alex sat behind his massive desk with his feet propped on the edge and his hands linked behind his head. The man had become surprisingly laid back since he’d started getting an uninterrupted supply of sex and fresh blood. He was happy, as well, and that fact alone made Val inclined to appreciate how Quinn had entered their lives. The human boy was good for their leader, accepting of their ways and naturally exerted a calming influence over Alex, even with Dracul active again.
“For what reason? The club is still in full swing.” He returned his attention to the screens, although nothing of note was happening.
“You’re tense and edgy, making the members tense and edgy every time you come near them.”
“Is that why you asked me to come in here, to keep me away from the floor?” Not waiting for an answer, Val faced Alex full-on and added, “You don’t trust me to keep my shit together?”
Alex gave him a pained look. “Val, you have many fine qualities, not the least of which is your dogged loyalty and ability to keep others in line. That’s what makes you the perfect second-in-command to our cadre and chief bouncer to the club. Holding your temper, however, is not one of your strengths.”
Val grimaced, biting back a quick retort. “I didn’t toss Warren out on his ass, though, did I?”
“No,” Alex allowed. “But the thought did cross your mind.”
Before Val could work out a response to that observation without sounding any more defensive than he already did, the door to the office flew open. Quinn rushed in. “Alex!”
Dangerous Dance Page 2