“I suppose.”
“I see how you look at him. You love him, Dafydd, I know you do. And that’s a wonderful thing. It tells me that you are getting better. Please don’t give up on yourself. And please don’t trade the prison you were in at the castle in Wales with the one that addiction creates. What you’re doing here with these pills and the booze will hurt you in the long run, as surely as what that asshole alien did.”
There was the sound of glass clinking on the roof, and he sensed that the doctor had settled down in front of him. “I know that you want to be alone, but it’s not safe for me to leave you. I’m going to stay here so long as you do. I’m sorry if that bothers you.”
“No, it’s fine, I suppose.”
“No one else knows you’re up here, do they, or what you do when you come?”
Dafydd shook his head, a mistake given how his head swam. “You do, now. Are you going to tell the others?”
“I should, but there’s only one pill left, so I’m not as worried that you’ll hurt yourself after tonight. I’ll keep my mouth shut on one condition.”
Dafydd almost laughed. There was always a price to be paid, and for a brief second, he thought the man would ask for something sexual. He should have known him better than that now.
“I want you to go up to Maine with the others. You heard about the trip during dinner, right? You were paying attention?”
“I did, yes, but it’s nothing to me. The last thing I need is to go somewhere else. Any place where I’m not being beaten and raped is holiday enough for me.” He regretted the glib remark the moment he’d said it.
“I wish I could have killed him,” Ric said into the ensuing silence, “which is crazy, I know. What chance would I have against a human soldier, let alone an alien one? I’m just saying.”
“Why do you want me to go, anyway?”
“Because it will separate you from this roof and the habit you’ve fallen into, using medicine and liquor as crutches. You can get out into the sun and Idris can play on the beach. It will be good for you. Trust me, please. I…um, won’t come and bother you. I promise.”
This was an easy way out. All Dafydd had to do was agree. Harry could always get him more pills and there was undoubtedly brandy and other spirits aplenty on MacLerie’s fancy boat. Plus, the doctor wouldn’t be there to spy on him. Just say yes, mun, and be done with it.
“All right. I’ll go…except you should come, too, when you can. It will be good for you, too, won’t it?” Idiot!
“I will…and thank you.” The man’s joy was easy to hear in his voice. “It’s okay to rest now, Dafydd. You’re safe with me. I’ll make sure no harm comes to you, especially not from me.”
A voice inside him said not to trust the man. Pretty words meant nothing, rare as they were. Instead, he gave into the sleepiness brought on by his indulgences and found it was easy not to worry after all.
Chapter Six
“I think you’re absolutely crazy to do this, MacLerie.” Val gestured toward the controlled chaos of more than a dozen people making themselves and their belongings comfortable on Malcolm’s yacht.
“It’s going to be very cramped for sure, but we’ll manage. It’s a good thing the lads are small. They can easily fit into the bunks of what normally serves as the crew’s cabins or on the saloon’s couches, if need be. With Duncan showing up from time to time, we may play a few rounds of musical chairs.”
“Yeah, but none of we men will want to sleep apart from our boys, so I for one am going to be getting acquainted with the floor, I expect. This yacht may be huge by human standards but our kind fills up a lot of space.”
“Och, you’re a tough one. I’m not worried about your creature comforts. The lads are already having a fine time, and if that’s all that this trip accomplishes, it will be worth it. They deserve the fun.”
“You’re right about that. The human ability to enjoy themselves with such abandon is one of their more admirable qualities.” Val paused, his eagle eyes homing in on Mackie. “I like it when he enjoys himself. He hasn’t had enough of that in his short life.”
Malcolm clapped his friend on the shoulder. “You’re an old softy after all, aren’t you, Val?”
Val grimaced and shook off Malcolm’s hold. “Only with Mackie. With everyone else, I’m the angel of death…and don’t forget it.”
Malcolm barked out a laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Unfortunately, this trip wasn’t entirely for pleasure, and he couldn’t lose sight of that fact. “I don’t suppose we have any more word from Duncan about the source of those guns?”
“No, but I’ve pored through the intel I collected on Dracul’s early gunrunning. I’d forgotten that I had pinpointed a possible cave system along the uninhabited shore north of the town. Dracul used to bring their boats in there undetected by the humans.” He ran his hand down his Mohawk. “Then again, that was pre-World War I. There’s nothing to say that spot isn’t overgrown with fancy houses now.”
“Well, it will give us something to do while the lads frolic on the beach. I expect they’ll enjoy that and I know we won’t join them in that particular pastime.”
Val sneered. “I hate Earth’s sun, especially during the summer. No hat or pair of sunglasses is sufficient to block the fucker from giving me a monstrous headache. It’s a good thing it will be going on evening when we arrive today.”
“I was lucky to find a slip opening up, but as it’s not available until later, I intend to take it easy on the helm. This may turn out to be a fun holiday after all, and nothing else.”
Val gave him the side-eye. “You really believe that?”
“In my gut? No. I’m expecting trouble, make no mistake. I’d like to think it’s simply a matter of adjusting to the new reality of Dracul being vanquished. My head tells me we’ve got nothing to fash about, but my intestines are giving me a right hard time.”
“It doesn’t sit well, does it? Kind of like eating spoiled food or something.”
Malcolm chuckled. “Not a bad analogy. And with Petru and Bran out there, a case of mild indigestion is certainly warranted, I’d say.”
Their mirth ended when Dafydd approached. It had surprised Malcolm that the Welshman had agreed to join them. He was pleased, because it would give Brenin more chances to speak with his friend, if he wanted. With all the activity since they’d arrived, he didn’t think that had happened yet.
“I’m sorry to disturb you, gentleman.” Dafydd’s meek demeanor was a sad reminder of his hellish life with Dracul. The way he placidly, yet with resolution, held on to his squirming hybrid son was impressive. The babe was almost as big as his father. Poor Dafydd was a man of the middle-ages, short and thin. He was beautiful, too, although Malcolm barely noticed. Nothing compared to his lovely Brenin in his mind.
“Not at all, laddie. How can I help?”
“Oh, I don’t need anything, thank you. Rather, I was going to say that Idris and I don’t need an entire stateroom to ourselves. We can make do in one of those little rooms with the bunk beds down near the engine room. Demi should have the one Lucien showed me instead, for when Sergeant Duncan joins him.”
“That’s kind of you to offer, Dafydd, but you and Idris need the space more, I’d say. I’ve no doubt Demi and Duncan would agree.” Won’t being cramped in a windowless place be upsetting to the former slave? He’s suffered too much confinement in his life as it is.
“Brenin, my love,” he called out before the Welshman could argue the point. “Won’t you come help Dafydd get settled?”
The idea worked. Brenin hurried over, looking more relaxed than he had in a while. Being with all of these happy boys and not stuck in Malcolm’s shadow twenty-four-seven was doing him a world of good.
He shot both Malcolm and Dafydd a smile. “Sure thing. Where are your bags?”
“Over there,” Dafydd replied with a jerk of his head. He was busy now containing the babe, who’d managed to all but turn himself upside down within his father’s embrac
e.
Out of the corner of his eye, Malcolm saw Val gesture briefly with a flick of his hand. Mackie came skipping up in the next instance.
“Hey, how about I deal with the Tasmanian Devil for you, Dafydd, while you settle in.”
Dafydd looked skeptical. “Really? He’s being chopsy this morning.”
Mackie bounced on the balls of his feet. “If that’s a Welsh way of saying he’s acting like a toddler, I agree. No worries,” he added, holding out his hands. “I’ve got mega babysitting chops. Come on, little man.”
Mackie plucked Idris out of Dafydd’s arms with ease and pretended he was an airplane as he whisked the kid away.
“Well, that settles that,” Malcolm said. Then, turning to Val, he mouthed, “Thanks.”
“Come on, Dafydd. Let’s get your stuff.” Brenin waved for his friend to follow.
“That was clever of you to put them together. It was almost not obvious.”
He smacked his friend on the arm. “Och, thanks for that.”
“Sorry, I have no filter, as you know. Maybe it was only clear to me what you were trying to do,” Val told him.
“You did your bit getting the kid out of the way. I must confess I have my worries there. You should see the kind of trouble the hybrid we took in gives us. A mischievous little bugger, he is. I’m not sure how possible it is to undo the problems both nature and nurture heaped upon these creatures of Dracul.”
“Don’t say that in front of Lucien, in particular. He’ll have your balls for it. He’s the one that’s taken the brunt of Dafydd’s recovery and the care of the brat. What progress you see is his doing.
“I wish I shared his optimism, but I feel as you do,” Val went on. “I’m not sure there’s any real hope for Dafydd, either. Can a human recover from such a thing? It doesn’t seem like it from what I’ve observed of the guy. Not that I spend much time with him—or any time, really. I can’t imagine shooting his own son has made things easier on him, and frankly, I hate to say it, but if I wake up one day to find that he’s done himself and the baby in, I won’t be surprised.”
Malcolm recoiled at the idea. “You dinnae mean that, really?”
Val shrugged. “You know me, always looking for trouble. It’s not my call, luckily. And who knows? With Brenin to talk to and Paz popping in on occasion, the guy might prove me a nervous nelly.”
He slapped Malcolm on his back. “I’ve had as much of this hoopla as I can stand. I’m going to pore over my files on this Putnam’s Cove. Do you need any help getting underway?”
Malcolm shook his head. “I’ve got it covered. Thanks all the same.”
As he watched Val walk away, he couldn’t help thinking about what the guy had said about Dafydd. What if the boy couldn’t overcome his past? And if he couldn’t, did that say anything about Brenin and their future? He wanted to change him for very selfish reasons, so that they could live a long life together. Yet even though Brenin had agreed, he hadn’t managed more than a few sips of Malcolm’s blood so far. And if he ever did bear Malcolm a son, would there always be that worry that he might someday turn on the babe?
It was too much to ponder and caused a hurt deep inside that was pure torture. Besides, he had a job to do. The damn yacht had every modern convenience but it still couldn’t drive itself.
* * * *
“What do you think?” Brenin asked the question while Dafydd stood in the middle of the stateroom, taking it all in. He hoped his friend would enjoy his time onboard.
“It’s grand, isn’t it? More than Idris and I need, like I told your mun, not that he listened. They never do, these aliens.” He tossed first one bag, then the other, onto the bed. “I can’t believe I’ve accumulated enough stuff to warrant three suitcases.”
Brenin added the one that he carried to the pile and placed the folded-up portable crib on the floor. “It’s not only you, though, is it? A lot of this must be for Idris.”
“Yes, you’re right there.” Dafydd sat near the pillows and ran his hand along the comforter. “One thing being enslaved by the monster did was get me accustomed to the finer things in life. This boat is almost as big as the village I was born in.” He glanced at Brenin. “How was it you managed with just the two of you on the journey over?”
Brenin shrugged and leaned against the closed door. “Malcolm did most of the work, and you know how fast he can get around, like all of them.” He’d run himself ragged trying to keep up with the hybrid back home.
“I do, yes. I find I’m much quicker than a normal human, too, now that I’ve been given the freedom to go about on my own and test the limits of my good health.”
Brenin rubbed his thumb along the seam of his jeans. “Are you drinking blood?”
“No.” The reply was short and sharp. “I don’t want that anymore and stopping doesn’t seem to have done me any harm.”
“That’s good to hear.” It was one of Brenin’s fears. Now that he’d started to take Malcolm’s blood in small quantities, he worried about what would happen to him if he changed his mind. “I, ah, do feel something of it. Stronger, anyway.”
Dafydd’s gaze flew up. “You’re taking his blood, mun? Did he make you?”
Because he could hear the worry in his friend’s tone—and the fury—he pushed away from the door to go to him. “No, he didn’t. I swear. It was my choice.”
After shoving a bag aside, he settled next to Dafydd. “After it was all over, you know, the battle or whatever, I was so happy. I love Malcolm, and oh, Dafydd, he showed me how it can be between two men. How it should be. And it’s amazing.”
Dafydd stared at the floor. “If you say so.”
“I do! I wish you could experience it for yourself.”
A visible shudder ran through Dafydd. “Not bloody likely. And anyway, if he makes you happy, why are you so sad?”
Brenin’s stomach dropped. “It’s that obvious?”
“It is, yes—to me at least. I don’t think the others have noticed. Why should they? They haven’t gone through what we did.”
“Jase did, though, didn’t he? And Mackie and Quinn had it rough for a while, I think.” They all seemed utterly happy now. What’s wrong with me that I’m not?
“They suffered only at the hands of humans, though, yeah? It’s not the same. At least it doesn’t seem like it would be to me.”
“Maybe.” He wasn’t sure that it was as simple as that. Human beings were despicable to their own. The one difference between his own experience and something like what Jase had gone through was the blood sucking. Perhaps that variation was all it took. Or possibly the other boy was coping with the same type of trauma better than he was.
“I thought I was okay,” he confessed. “I’d found a way to find pleasure with Malcolm without the shadow of Dracul hanging over us. Then it started creeping up on me.”
“What did, exactly?”
“Anxiety, I guess. And memories. I got jumpy and moody. If Malcolm touches me unexpectedly, I practically pop out of my skin. Sometimes for a brief second when I look at him, I see…you know who. It’s only a flash of confusion, but it’s enough to be upsetting. If it’s not me who initiates the contact, I can barely stand it sometimes. I see the hurt and worry in Malcolm’s eyes. It makes me feel terrible. I hate that he thinks I don’t want his touch.”
“But do you? Really now?”
“I said as much, didn’t I?” He glowered. “Sorry. I don’t mean to snap at you, of all people. You saved my life and have much more to be upset about than I do.”
“You don’t ever have to apologize to me, of all people. And I don’t think that’s how misery is measured, by who got it worse than another. It’s all personal, isn’t it? You were tortured by Dracul for months. I was for centuries. So what? After the first few weeks, it’s all the same. The shock wears off and the numbness sets in. Hope dies.”
“That’s not true, not for you. You never gave up. If you had, I wouldn’t be here.”
Dafydd gave him a wan smile
. “Ah, well, planning ways to thwart and escape the monster helped pass the time. Living for centuries can be boring, you know. You’re sure you want it?”
“I know I want Malcolm for as long as I can have him. I just don’t understand what my problem is. Doc MacPhee gives it a fancy name—post traumatic stress syndrome.”
“I’ve had that thrown at me and all, too. What does it matter what they call it? They can’t snap their fingers and make it go away, can they?”
“They would if they could. We’re lucky to be part of this family, Dafydd. They are as loyal and kind as Dracul was deceitful and wicked.”
“True enough.” His mouth formed a thin line and his brows furrowed. “There is something that Harry gives me that helps.”
Twisting around, Dafydd grabbed one of his bags and opened a side pocket. He pulled out a small, plastic bottle and shook it like a rattle.
“Pills, then?” Brenin asked with a frown. “Doc MacPhee offered me something that she said might help, but I didn’t like the idea of taking anything. Where does it end, that? You’re on them for life, maybe.”
Dafydd rolled the bottle between his fingers and thumb. “Don’t know, and I don’t much care. For now, this plus a bit of brandy gets me through.”
“I don’t think you’re supposed to mix that stuff.”
Dafydd laughed mirthlessly. “That’s what Ric said.”
“Dr. Paz? He knows?”
“Followed me, didn’t he? Nosey.”
“Concerned.”
“Whatever. Anyway, he promised not to tell if I agreed to come on this trip. He’s going to check up on me, even though he didn’t say as much. I should mind more than I do.”
“He cares for you. It could be that fresh start you’re looking for.” As he gave the advice, Brenin wondered how he dared, in the face of his own inability to settle in with the life Malcolm had served him on a platter.
“Who says I am?” With a sigh, he tossed the bottle onto the nightstand. “I’m just trying to get through each day and take care of Idris. It’s survival, the same way it was back in Wales, only with less fear and no pain.”
Healing Dance Page 8