“It will be all right,” his father murmured.
“I know,” he whispered back.
Dracul grunted. “I’ll leave you to it. You will inform me the moment my son makes his entrance.” With that final order, he sailed out of the room, dragging the striped boy with him. The kid smirked at Demi, as if he somehow had won a prize that Demi would have never wanted in a million years. When they passed a silent Petru, however, the boy avoided looking at him. Something passed across Petru’s face that Demi found intriguing, yet unreadable. Then he remembered that he didn’t care what was going on in this castle of horrors.
“Stoke up the fire,” Papa snapped at Kronid, with a wave at the fireplace. “Bring blankets, towels, food, a basin and plenty of water. I’ll also need whatever Drogo used for a medical bag and any supplies I find missing.”
When neither Kronid nor Petru moved to comply, Papa bared his fangs and roared. The sound was terrifying. It compelled the others to action, however, and once more Demi felt a sense of pride.
Now all he needed was hope. His father could keep him safe until the baby was born. After that, Demi had no illusions about his own fate. Worse, he worried that his father would be killed notwithstanding his being the only doctor left for their race. There was really only one chance that they’d be rescued.
Trey, please come for me.
* * * *
“Still awake, are you?”
Turning onto his side, Brenin watched Malcolm walk back from the cockpit. The man sat on the seat opposite from where Brenin lay and stretched his long, bare legs out in a relaxed pose.
“I can’t sleep for some reason,” he confessed. “I’ve never flown before, so that’s why probably. It’s kind of exciting and boring at the same time.”
Malcolm chuckled. “Aye, that’s as good a way of describing it as any, I suppose. Plus, it’s not very late by our internal clock. But it will be even earlier when we land in Boston, which will be in about an hour. By the time we pass through customs, arrive at the club and debrief, you’ll be exhausted, I expect. Sleep will come easily and you’ll adjust to the new time zone right quick.”
Brenin didn’t say anything to challenge that assumption. Sitting up, he stretched his own legs beside Malcolm’s. “I’m nervous about meeting your friends,” he confessed without looking at him. “I’m used to you, and Willem’s not so bad, especially with Annika around. But I’m not sure how I’m going to react to the others. I keep telling myself not to be such a baby about it.”
Malcolm was a blur of movement that ended with his sitting next to Brenin. “You have every right to be leery after all you’ve been through.” He began to reach for Brenin’s hand but pulled back.
Their thighs touched, though, and when Malcolm moved his away, Brenin moved his closer. “I’m not afraid of you. Your being near or touching me, even, doesn’t bother me.” He glanced up at him from under his lashes. “I like it, actually, although I don’t understand why.”
“Well, now, you humans are awfully resilient, I’ve found.” Malcolm reached out again and this time, he tucked strands of hair behind Brenin’s ear. “It’s one of the things I admire about your species.”
“I can’t imagine there’s anything about us that would impress beings such as yourselves. I mean, you’ve learned how to use wormholes and travel halfway across the universe. We’re barely out of diapers in comparison.”
“Technologically speaking, maybe, but you’ve a flexibility of mind and an ability to adapt that my people could never possess. We’re rigid in our ways and haven’t changed in millennia. The hive structure is the same as it was back when we walked on four legs instead of two.”
Brenin peeked up at him and, at the same time, slid his hand over to rest against Malcolm’s thigh. “Is that how you evolved, then? I keep picturing you buzzing about like bees.”
Malcolm laughed, his handsome face splitting into a broad smile. “Och, no. Our social structure is much like your insects, but we’re mammals, all the same. Mostly. We certainly never flew about, although it would have been fun if we had.”
“Speaking of which,” Brenin ventured, “is it okay for you to be back here and not in the cockpit.”
“Not to worry, laddie. Willem took to the skies as if he has wings. I’m mostly a nuisance to him up there. Besides, I like the company better back here.”
Brenin dared to look at the man head on. He saw that Malcolm’s pupils had turned black. His heart stuttered a bit. “You want me, don’t you?” It was a stupid question because the answer was obvious and it opened up a dialogue he wasn’t sure he was ready to have.
“Aye,” Malcolm admitted in a low voice. “I’m sorry. I do. Not that you should fash yourself over it. I know how to keep myself under control. You’re safe with me.”
Brenin dipped his gaze to the man’s lap and tried to see what lay under the folds of the kilt. As usual, there was nothing visible and yet, there didn’t need to be. “I’m not worried.” He licked his lips. “I know you’re aroused and it’s fine. Really, it is.”
Malcolm stood abruptly. “No, it’s not.” He turned away. “With all you’ve been through, the last thing you need is my dick in your face.” His shoulders shook on a deep breath. “Sorry. That was crude of me, as well. I’m usually better at keeping my thoughts and needs to myself.”
Brenin stood, too. After a moment’s hesitation, he placed his hand on Malcolm’s back and ran his fingers down to his waist. The muscles rippled under his light touch in a way that made him feel almost powerful.
“If you’d asked me only two days ago what I wanted and needed after my time with the monster, I would have said to be alone. I figured my interest in men had been forever ruined.” He ran his fingers along the waistband of the kilt before slipping one of them beneath it. “Now, I think maybe what I need is a chance to experience something positive. I don’t want to be a broken thing for the rest of my life. If that happens then he’s won, hasn’t he?”
Malcolm twisted around, dislodging Brenin’s hand, before clasping it in his own. He stared into his eyes as he lifted Brenin’s fingers. “Don’t speak of yourself like that. Don’t think of yourself as ruined. You are by far the bravest and most desirable boy I’ve ever known.” He brushed his lips against the inside of Brenin’s wrist.
The cool, whispering feeling sent a shiver through him. His breath stuttered out and there was that odd, yet appealing, stirring of interest between his legs. “When you look at me like that, I do feel wanted.”
“Because you are, too much so.” Malcolm tried to release Brenin’s hand.
Brenin reversed the grip to keep the connection. “What if I want you? What if I need you to help me banish the pain and humiliation of being the monster’s slave?”
Malcom’s eyes got even darker, if that were possible. “Och now, laddie, you’ll be wanting someone better than me for that. Someone human, most like. I’m just a different monster.”
Using their clasped hands, Brenin pulled them closer together. Although Malcolm was bigger and stronger, he allowed Brenin that control. “You’re nothing of the kind! I know because I’ve been this close, closer, to one and I appreciate the difference.”
Malcolm closed his eyes and sighed. “Och, Brenin, my poor, wee lad. I will turn him into dust for what he did to you. I swear I will.”
Brenin could feel the warmth of his breath—the one part of the alien that wasn’t always cool—and smelled the not-quite spicy undertones of his alien nature. Those things should have sent him screaming away. Instead, he got even closer and came within a hair’s breadth of pressing his cheek against Malcolm’s big, hard chest.
“Good. I want you to do that. God knows I do. But I’m also asking you to help me heal in a different way. Will you please show me how good it can be between two men?”
With slow movements, Malcolm drew him into a loose embrace and now Brenin did lay his head against his breastbone. He could hear the powerful beat of the man’s heart. He’d known, of
course, that he possessed one. Still, it was reassuring to listen to it.
Malcolm ran his hand down the back of Brenin’s head. “If that’s what you want, I would be honored to help you.” He chuckled ruefully, the sound making his chest rumble. “Hell, laddie, it’s what I literally dream of.”
Brenin huffed. “Me too, actually. That’s how I know it’s the right thing for me to do.” He dared to slide a hand down to feel for himself how much Malcolm wanted him. The hard length was easy to find. It jerked at his touch.
“I am afraid of this,” he admitted, “and of the blood.”
“There dinnae have to be any of that.”
“Really?” He squeezed the cock as best he could through the cloth, simply because he figured he could. Malcolm’s responding grunt gave him a heady feeling of power. “You can fuck without biting?”
“I can.”
“That’s a relief.” Letting go, he pulled out of the embrace. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a distraction, given all that you have to do. I’m only hoping you can find time for me. You know, later, when this is all over.”
Malcolm used one fingertip to lift Brenin’s face by his chin. “I will give you whatever time you ask for—and more besides.” With that, he placed a quick and gentle kiss on Brenin’s lips. Nevertheless, the touch tingled and it continued to do so even after Malcolm returned to the cockpit.
* * * *
“They’re settled in. It’s become quite the party.” Petru’s annoyance was hard to miss. The man was usually more circumspect around Dracul, but perhaps his demeanor had more to do with seeing his slut kneeling between Dracul’s legs than anything going on in the tower.
That thought pleased him. He never wanted any of his followers to get above themselves. Making use of Petru’s pretty boy was serving two purposes, it seemed.
Fisting the boy’s hair, he forced the slut’s head down so that he took all of the shaft. The tightness of the boy’s throat was delightful. He’d give Petru his due. He’d trained the human well. Dracul couldn’t remember the last time he’d been serviced quite so expertly and thoroughly. He moaned, merely to watch Petru work to keep his expression neutral.
“Don’t bother me with the boring details. So long as Kronid keeps my guests in hand and my son is safely delivered, that’s all I care about. As you well know,” he added with a warning glare. If Kronid fucked up, Petru understood that his head would also be on the chopping block.
“I understand my duty. Sir.”
Dracul rewarded that little show of insubordination by rocking his hips into the boy’s mouth and holding him there until he struggled for breath. He let him up right as his pretty face started to turn red. After a few sputters, the slut continued to lavish attention on Dracul’s dick with his skilled tongue without requiring any encouragement. Such a dutiful little whore.
“And what of that other irritation? Any sign of my escaped pet?”
“No, sir.” Petru’s gaze skittered away. “He must have disguised his scent somehow because we can’t track him. Perhaps he died in the woods.”
“I’m not interested in speculation. Find the boy so that I can kill him myself—or bring me his carcass.” Really, it was too much to bear that some stupid cunt had managed to slip his grip. Someone had to pay, other than Drogo, and Dafydd was already dead, as far as Dracul was concerned. His ire wasn’t quite satisfied, and if Petru didn’t do his job, he might very well end up paying the price for that fuck-up, too.
He grinned at the guy. “Now, unless there is there anything further of importance you wish to discuss, I’m rather busy enjoying myself, as you can see.”
Petru’s mouth tightened. “No, sir.” He spun around and left the room.
Chuckling, Dracul dragged the boy up by the hair. “That’s enough of that, boy. Come sit on my lap.”
The human grinned coyly, his lips shiny with spit. He required no coaxing to climb up and straddle Dracul’s thighs. He fluttered his lashes as he lowered himself with practiced ease. Dracul’s cock sank into the willing body smoothly. How delightful. The warm, welcoming tightness made for a wonderful change. Who knew that one could achieve almost as much pleasure in fucking a willing hole as from ramming into an unwilling one?
He fisted both sides of the boy’s head and tilted it to expose the jugular. “You like being impaled by my cock, don’t you?”
“Y-yes.” The boy undulated his hips, squeezing as he rode the dick. “You fill me so completely, Master.”
Oh, yes, Petru’s slut knew just how to please. “Pity you’re barren.” As far as Dracul knew, Petru had no sons, a thing he cared little about except he always wanted more soldiers for the cause.
“That’s not my fault.” The boy’s pouty lips turned down. “He makes me take birth control.”
Dracul forced him to stay still. He peered into those strange mismatched eyes. Again, to his knowledge, no changed human had ever developed such features, nor the black striped hair. “Seriously? Why would he do such a thing?”
“I don’t know, Master. I think he wanted me to stay slim and pretty for him.”
“Ridiculous. There’s an endless supply of fuckable boys. Sons are paramount.” He’d suspected Petru was a fool, regardless of his loyalty, but this was beyond the pale. He tightened his grip enough to bring water to those weird eyes. “I bet you’d like my seed to take root, wouldn’t you, slut?”
The boy moaned and squeezed his hole some more. “Yes, Master. Please. I want to give you sons. I’ll give you as many as you want.”
Easing his grip, he bucked his hips to get the slut moving again. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”
His spirits buoyed for the first time in days, he celebrated with a fast and hard ride. At the moment of his climax, he sank his teeth into the boy’s neck and drank his fill.
Chapter Seven
Malcolm was aware he garnered quite a lot of attention as he strode through the airport. There was no help for it, not unless he wanted to change out of his kilt and into jeans. He didn’t—and not merely because of some stubborn adherence to a tradition that wasn’t really his. No, it was to keep Brenin looking at him the way he did whenever Malcolm bared his legs. The boy liked the wild and overtly masculine appearance and that was plenty good enough for Malcolm.
He still had trouble believing it was true—couldn’t really believe it, either—that he’d dared kiss the boy back on the plane or that Brenin had allowed it, not to mention that they’d essentially made a date to bed each other once the trouble with Dracul had been settled.
Dear God, did I really promise to help the boy get over his brutalization and discover what it was meant to be like between two men?
On a purely academic level, it made sense. If someone didn’t show him the difference, Brenin would forever equate sex with hideous violence and degradation. He would be damaged for the rest of his life. That would be a crying shame, for sure, yet was Malcolm the right person for this serious task?
Brenin thought so and that was all that really mattered at the end of the day.
Malcolm had to believe the boy knew his own mind on this, as well. The way in which Brenin kept close to him—back at the castle, on the plane and here in the airport—certainly persuaded him that the human did. Actions spoke louder than words, or so the saying went. And it certainly seemed like it at the moment. Brenin walked so close that they were practically holding hands. In fact, Malcolm made an effort to do just that. When he clasped Brenin’s hand, the boy upped the ante by entwining their fingers.
Och. Well, maybe he was simply nervous in the biggish crowd of strangers. By his own admission, the boy wasn’t used to traveling. Aye. That was it, only looking for reassurance in a strange land. No sense in reading more into it than that. Besides, after having passed through customs, thanks to Darling’s magnificently forged documents, it was time to go out and find Val. According to a text Malcolm had received in response to his when they had landed, the guy was circling the pick-up area.
A big, black SUV approached. Malcolm knew it must be their ride even before it pulled up to the curb beside them. The passenger-side window slid down as Malcolm and the others stepped toward it. Val leaned over, his face showing the same sternness it always had. Brenin pressed closer to Malcolm’s side at the sight.
“Aren’t your knees cold, Highlander?” Val drawled.
Malcolm shot his shipmate a wry grin. “Och, mun, I’m not as delicate as you.” He laid his adopted accent on thick as porridge.
Val sneered. “If the cops would allow me to, I’d sit here and wait for a strong wind to lift your skirt. It’s been a while since I had a peek.”
“I’ll be sure to mention your prurient interest to that new husband of yours.”
Val shook his head. “Forget it. No flash of your junk is worth a tongue-lashing from my boy. It would only lead to my punishing him, and… On second thought, do your worst.”
Malcolm laughed as he was intended to before heading to the back to store his bag and Brenin’s. He heard Val greet Willem but concentrated on making sure Brenin was okay.
“I know how fierce he looks, but he’s no one for you to fear. Val would lay his life on the line for you.”
Brenin handed his bag over. “I’m not afraid because I’m with you. I know you won’t let anyone hurt me.”
The lad’s trust in him was humbling. He took the risk of pulling him in for a quick kiss, amazed and pleased when Brenin permitted it. Then he brought him to the door for the second seat and handed him up.
“This is Brenin,” he said as he climbed in beside him.
“Pleased to meet you,” Val said through the rearview mirror. “We appreciate your help.”
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