“Well, the witnesses I interviewed were more cooperative than usual because one of them recognized my name. Apparently, I have some street cred, thanks to you.”
Logan shrugged again. “You’re all right…for a cop. So what?”
“So, thanks. I appreciate your vouching for me. It helped me get a better picture of what happened, and without the witnesses’ cooperation, we wouldn’t be as far along with the investigation.”
“What exactly did they say?” Emil asked. His stomach was already aching from the mere hint that Dracul was back at it again.
“The fire appears to have been started by an explosion. One of the people in the warehouse said he thought he saw someone on the roof a few minutes before it happened. And the witnesses all seem to think the explosion came from above. Now, whether that means it occurred on a higher floor or on the roof is something investigators will figure out, once the building cools off sufficiently to go back in.”
Emil said what he supposed they were all thinking. “That’s it?” His tension eased down a notch.
“That’s it,” Duncan confirmed. “I warned you from the beginning that this was probably nothing.”
“So you did.” Emil decided he needed more coffee. He went to Alex’s kitchen area to pour a cup. It wasn’t as good as his, but good enough.
“It’s just… I don’t know. A three-story abandoned warehouse with multiple entry points? Why does someone bother to blow it up—and why from the top?”
“Insurance,” Val called out, still searching his phone for news.
Duncan slurped and nodded once more. “Sure. They’re looking into the owner and fraud is always a front-runner explanation. Plus, if you go high, it’s harder for anyone to see you from the street, not that it’s a well-traveled area of the city or anything.”
Emil returned to the living room and sat down on the steps leading from the front entryway. He took a few sips of his coffee while he considered the situation. “There’s no obvious reason to believe that Dracul is involved. Our species doesn’t hang out on rooftops, as a rule.”
“Right. Right.” Duncan speared a piece of melon, the only healthy thing he’d taken from the buffet. “I’m just being paranoid, right?” He heaved a sigh, chewed, swallowed. “So what if all of the fire escapes had been taken down? I mean…there’s other ways of going up three stories. Maybe the perp came in through a door and climbed up and out. For some reason, that doesn’t occur to me, no matter how hard I think about it.”
Alex hummed. “You’ve gained my attention more, Duncan. Is there any word on the type of explosive used?”
The cop shook his head. “They’ll be working on it for sure, though.”
“That information might prove very illuminating.”
The ache in Emil’s stomach flared. “You’re thinking of Marius.”
Alex pressed his mouth against Quinn’s head before replying. “He does have quite the penchant for making things go boom.”
“I thought he’d left the party, as it were,” Emil offered, hoping that there really was no connection between this terrible event and Dracul. “He was done with the fight, wasn’t he?”
“I never thought so,” Val replied. “He was licking his wounds, that’s all. I can’t believe he’d settle down for a quiet life among the humans.”
The bottom of Emil’s stomach dropped. “Neither can I, I’m afraid.” Marius had been another botanist on the ship, a job he’d been ill-suited for and probably pushed into by his family.
“What happened to him, exactly?” Mackie asked.
Val pulled him in for a sideways hug. “Nothing he didn’t deserve. One of his bombs exploded too soon and it blew his arm off.”
“Ha!” Mackie crowed. “Serves him right.”
“I always thought so,” Emil agreed. He hated being mean-spirited, but Dracul and his boys always brought out the worst in him. “I truly hope it’s not him, though. In his own way, he’s worse than Dracul.”
“Is that possible?” Quinn asked in a quiet voice. His bowl of cereal sat forgotten on his lap. Yeah, this was a topic that could put almost anyone off their feed.
Alex cuddled him even closer. “He has all of Dracul’s psychopathy without his self-control. It’s strange. Onboard the ship, he was always so quiet and awkward. I suspected his mother sent him on the voyage just to get him out of her social orbit. It took centuries after we crashed, but eventually he came out of his shell under Dracul’s careful tutelage. He’s unstable, I’d say.”
“He’s out of his fucking mind,” Emil felt forced to remark. The coldness in the man’s expression the last time Emil had seen him still sent a shiver down his spine. He looked at Duncan. “When will we know more?”
“I can’t say. I promise to keep you in the loop, of course. I’m not going to be anything more than on the periphery, I’m afraid.”
“If it is Marius,” Val added, “it’s going to get worse very quickly. I expect the warehouse was a test case for him. He’ll escalate to bigger targets with more carnage. A warehouse fire that killed a couple of homeless people won’t gain the attention and create the kind of panic that Dracul is looking for.” He glanced over at Logan. “Sorry… That’s the hard truth.”
Emil turned in time to see the woman toss her head. “It’s nothing I don’t already know. Those people didn’t matter to whoever did it, alien or not.”
Standing, Emil faced her. “To Dracul, all your people and everyone in this room are nothing of consequence.”
She gave him a cynical grin. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Not in the least.” He spoke to the room at large. “I guess there’s nothing we can do except wait. I hate that.”
“As do we all,” Alex said. “We can only focus on what we can control, for now. Val, would you please pull any files you have on Marius’ previous activities? It has been a while since we’ve dealt with him. We might find something useful. And please keep in touch, Sergeant. Our doors are always open, and food is always in the offing.”
The cop grinned. “Thanks…and will do.”
“If we’re done, I’m going to go see how Damien is doing with the buffet.” That at least was something useful he could do. And there was the boy, Jase. It might not be any of his business, but if that boy needed protection, he was going to give it. He might be able to save at least one human, even as he worried that Dracul was about to unleash misery on the rest of the city.
* * * *
Jase ignored the stares as he walked over to the bar. There weren’t many members, given that it was the middle of the week and most people had jobs that made playing at a club until late at night difficult. Master didn’t seem to work, at least not that Jase had noticed in the few years that he’d been enslaved by the man. Oh, there were ‘business trips’ filled with meetings that somehow ended with Jase kneeling before some strange man, sucking his cock to help Master’s cause. But if there was a product being sold or a widget being manufactured, Jase had never seen it. Sometimes it felt as if he was Master’s business—and perhaps it was true.
The few club members lounging about didn’t bother to hide their interest. One even winked at him, as if Jase could somehow be lured away to another man’s side, as if he had that choice. It made no sense, although he understood why he caught their attention. Master had sent him down in search of food after a particularly hard ‘play’ session and he’d made him go wearing nothing more than his black leather jock strap with the built-in butt plug. His hole was stretched unpleasantly wide, especially after the pounding Master had given it. Every step was painful. His red ass and welted back were on full display, testament to how well he took his discipline—or, really, how brutal Master was in his punishment.
No wonder he caught the attention of everyone he passed. He kept his head down, however, careful not to give encouragement or offense. He headed for the bar where the tall, scary woman stood polishing the already spotless, shiny top. He swallowed back his anxiety, try
ing to remember that there’d been a time in his life when he’d been happy to talk to people.
He stopped inches from the bar’s edge and locked his fingers behind his back. “Excuse me, please, ma’am.”
The woman ceased her cleaning. “How can I help you?”
Her tone was gentle, unhurried and unconcerned. Jase’s tension dropped a notch. “My master was hoping I could order a bacon cheeseburger with lettuce, tomato and mayonnaise?”
This new club was unlike any place Master had ever taken him—not only luxurious but also open all the time and with food and alcohol always available. Master wasn’t interested in some crappy pre-made snack, however. He wanted a special meal. Jase stood waiting for an answer and hoping he wouldn’t have to return with something that would make Master mad. That was not going to result in a complaint to the club’s management about a lack of service. No, that disappointment would be taken out on his hide.
The bartender alleviated his worries with a quick answer. “Sure. I’ll place the order with the kitchen and it should be ready in fifteen minutes, given that Emil is still on duty. Would you like French fries with that?”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” Fuck, he’d forgotten that part and Master would have skinned him for it.
“You’re very welcome. You don’t ever have to be shy around me, honey,” she added.
He dared to glance up and saw that she was smiling at him. Her expression appeared genuine, so much so that he returned it before he could catch himself. He dropped his gaze a split second later, and his cheeks heated in embarrassment—and fear. That was his constant companion, regardless of where he was and with whom. Experience had taught him that you could never tell whether someone was actually nice or only biding their time before they showed their true colors.
The bartender moved away to punch something into a computer. Jase relaxed a fraction now that no one’s attention was centered on him, at least not that he could tell. Despite his pain, his stomach felt hollowed out. His last meal had been hours ago and not that much, either. He could only hope there would be enough of Master’s meal leftover that he could scarf the rest. If it was the big, scary chef making it, there was every chance of that. The man frightened him more than anyone ever had, except he also had this kind way about him that almost caused Jase to let down his guard. Almost.
“Hey!”
The sudden greeting made Jase jump. He whirled to his left to find the redheaded boy who was part of the staff leaning against the bar. He hadn’t heard the guy arrive and yet suddenly he was within a foot of Jase.
The boy grinned. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”
Not sure of how to respond, Jase fell back on silence. He curled his fingers tightly around one another while keeping his eyes on the floor.
“I’m Mackie Stelalux, by the way. I’ve seen you around the last few days but I haven’t had a chance to introduce myself.” His tone was light and breezy.
Jase wasn’t sure what to make of it. He did understand that the pregnant pause was his cue to say something. “I’m Jase, sir.”
Mackie laughed. “You don’t have to call me sir. I’m like the least ‘sir’ kind of guy around. In fact,” he added with a flick of his finger at the base of his throat, “I’m the one who calls someone else sir.”
Oh. Right. He hadn’t focused on how the boy was also a collared slave, although his collar was of beautiful quality. It didn’t look like it chafed or anything. Plus, a monogramed tag hung from the D ring. Mackie was a boy who was loved.
Jase still wasn’t sure what, if anything, he should say, so he stayed silent. That didn’t seem to bother Mackie at all. He started chatting away.
“Yeah, see? I’m married to the head of security, Val. He’s my husband,” he added for extra clarity, flashing a wedding set on his left ring finger. One of the matching bands was paved with diamonds, testament to how much his master valued him.
Marriage and a husband were something that Jase could only dream of. “You must be a very good boy.” It was all he could think of saying.
Mackie laughed again, a trilling kind of giggle that held real mirth. “Oh, no… I’m a very bad boy. Val has to constantly correct me.” His gaze roamed down Jase’s body. “Looks like you’ve been playing hard.”
Jase shivered at the reminder. It was cold in the large room, but really, it was the visceral memory of how much he’d endured in the last few hours that caused the reaction. “I’m not a very good slave,” he admitted. “I need a lot of correction, too.” His voice sounded pathetic and strained to his own ears.
Mackie inched closer and placed a hand on Jase’s arm. “Are you okay?” The touch was oddly cool, even though the tone of voice was warm.
Jase nodded his head jerkily. “I’m getting better at pleasing my master.” Or he was maturing sufficiently to accept Master’s discipline without collapsing or too much sniveling. He’d gotten stronger with age.
Mackie squeezed his fingers briefly before letting go. “You know, if you ever need to talk to someone… I live here with Val and I manage the go-go boys, so listening and helping with problems is kind of my job.”
Jase didn’t know how to react to the offer. He sensed it was a trap, a way for Master to see if he was bad when out of sight. Telling tales, complaining, seeking a sympathetic someone to help him escape… These were the worst things he could do. Nothing made Master angrier than knowing Jase wasn’t devoted to him. Jase had learned that lesson a few times in ways that had left him howling in agony and both wishing and fearing he would die from it. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, make that mistake again.
He said nothing, standing there silently and pretending that he hadn’t understood or didn’t care about the offer being made. Then it didn’t matter because both of their attentions were taken by the scary chef barging up. He held a plate piled with two cheeseburgers and a mound of fries. Jase took a half-step back before remembering that avoiding punishment was one of the worst offenses.
The chef’s angry gaze swept Jase from head to toe. The expression on the man’s face turned extra grim. “I figured the special order was for the asshole, so I doubled it to make sure there was enough for you, too.”
Jase was too stunned by the declaration to say anything, even if he’d been expected to. Mackie made a small noise in the back of his throat and looked away. The chef slammed the plate on the bar counter and, with a huff, strode off.
Jase swallowed past the lump of fear clogging his throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make him mad.”
Mackie patted his arm before picking up the plate and holding it out. “Oh, sweetie, you didn’t. Emil—and believe me when I say I love him like an uncle—is on a mission to fatten up the world. He takes it as a personal affront if everyone isn’t stuffing their face twenty-four-seven. Here… Take this to your master before it gets cold.”
“Oh, right. Thank you.” He grabbed the plate and appreciated the warmth that seeped into his hands. He turned, still rattled, yet mindful that only one man in the world could truly hurt him.
“You’re welcome, and please remember I’m here if you need me.”
Jase nodded in appreciation. Surely there was no way that small gesture could be interpreted as disrespectful or traitorous to Master. Then again, he should have learned by now that Master was far cleverer than Jase would ever be. He knew everything and was good at laying traps that led to Jase being hurt more and more. The presence of an extra burger, even though all meals were included in the club fee, could set Master off. He would likely think Jase had wrangled it out of the kitchen.
He thought briefly of stuffing it down before he returned to the playroom. But no, Master would smell it on his breath and the punishment for eating without permission was brutal. Jase was trapped. No matter what he did, it was going to be the wrong thing. He should know that by now. He should be resigned to his fate. Nothing and no one was coming to rescue him. His only option was none at all. He simply had to endure until Master killed
him.
Death was his one way out.
Chapter Four
Dracul’s Castle, Wales
“Excellent! I knew Marius wouldn’t disappoint.” Dracul kept his gaze glued to the flat-screen across the room.
Dafydd looked away. There was only so much carnage and the misery that came with it he could tolerate. The suffering of people in a city across the ocean barely registered, in any event, compared to his own existential and personal issues. He rubbed at a stitch in his side caused by his rapidly swelling belly. The daily vomiting had ceased, but the discomfort of his body accommodating something it wasn’t designed for had ratcheted up. This time around, he knew what to expect, which made it worse somehow. He couldn’t pretend that anything other than a pregnancy was happening.
His skin rippled as the alien being inside him writhed in its fluid-filled sack. He tried to summon, as he had before, some paternal affection for what would be his son. He couldn’t. It was only the one, thank God, not the twins he’d carried the first time. Enough of Dracul’s genes polluted Earth as it was. Dafydd had loved his boys at first. It was only human to do so, after all. Eventually, the fact that they were wholly Dracul’s offspring had killed his feelings for them. Not that he’d seen either of his sons for months… They still hid from their vicious father’s ire somewhere deep in the bowels of the old castle—out of sight and out of mind, most likely. Dracul had turned his focus to an almost-son, someone as psychotic as he. Marius’ dead eyes always sent a shiver through Dafydd that rivaled the kind elicited by Dracul’s attention.
“Ha!” Dracul crowed. “Look at them scurrying about like the vermin they are. A little explosion, a few dead bodies, and they act like their world is coming to an end. Invading this miserable planet in force would have been an easy conquest.”
The madman could barely contain his glee, jerking about on his stomach like a landed fish while poor Brenin did his best to provide a massage. The boy hadn’t quite become accepting of his situation. He’d ceased fighting off the rapes and had gained proficiency at pleasing Dracul’s sadistic needs. He had adapted more easily in that regard than Dafydd had. But this evidence of Dracul’s murderous bent was proving too difficult for the poor boy to accept. He kept his gaze averted to the dreadful news flashing in front of him.
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