by H. M. Wolfe
Looking at Natalina, his beautiful, feisty daughter, the man smiled, realizing for the first time in years how much she looked like her mother: same hair, eyes, attitude, even the little crease in the middle of her forehead. Gavin, on the other hand, with his dirty blond hair and turquoise eyes, was a MacNamara from head to toe.
His grandfather, Dunstan’s dad, always commented that the boy looked more like Godfrey, the younger brother he detested, which hurt him. The man couldn’t understand where he went wrong, what his poor son did to be hated so much by his grandfather. He couldn’t forget the satisfied grin on his old man’s face when the bastard ordered him to go to New York and take over his uncle’s organization.
Taking one more look at his sleeping children, Dunstan sighed heavily. Maybe it was better this way, the man thought, maybe he could finally spread his wings and fly, be himself, keep his head high, and not bowed down into submission. But as he stepped outside the children’s room, Godfrey MacNamara’s nephew realized that guarded by the men who worked for his father, loyal only to him, he would never be free.
Unless... Dunstan was a man of his word, who believed in the power of negotiation. If he managed to make some powerful allies among the gangs and organizations that were ruling over the city, with his uncle’s blessing, of course, maybe he could free himself and the children from the claw holding them captive.
Building a new life was what the man and his kids needed, and the first step had been taken two days earlier when Dunstan went to a nearby school to enroll the twins there. That day, he saw her: fiery red hair tied in a loose ponytail, freckles, impossible beautiful green eyes, she opened her arms to a fragile, black-haired boy using a pair of crutches, escorted by another, a little more solidly built, redhead.
The woman was everything Dunstan wanted, the combination of feminine and maternal conquering his heart in the blink of an eye, exactly like Charis did, all those years earlier. However, the beautiful redhead hadn’t even noticed him, busy as she was checking on the little, black-haired boy, asking him questions in a worried voice and shaking her head from time to time.
Thinking about the endless possibilities the city offered to a man of action, Dunstan slid under the covers, ready to drift asleep. The next day was going to be long and complicated, he sighed softly, unaware that outside the guards smiled cynically at his innocence. Poor fool, they were whispering. He was just a pawn to be sacrificed in his father’s genial plan of taking over his brother Godfrey’s organization.
Indeed, the next morning, instead of taking him to his uncle’s residence, the driver took the route to The Base. Dunstan was a little confused at the sight of the apparently abandoned buildings, only to gasp in awe at the intense activity once they passed the massive gates. The old man had warned him not to expect a red-carpet welcoming ceremony, but he was pleasantly impressed by how respectful the guards were.
“Hello, sir. You look hungry.” Dunstan heard a little voice coming from somewhere near his feet. It belonged to a little girl, no more than eight or nine years of age. “The kitchen is that way. Gaspard will give you extra if you ask him nicely.”
“Thanks for the tip, little one.” He gently touched the girl’s head, then went in the direction she indicated, patiently waiting in line.
“Hey, big guy. Move your huge, fat ass to the end of the line, children first!” a young, skinny redhead yelled at him. “Come on, pronto!”
“Oh, really? I’m moving when he does.” Dunstan pointed to a tall, blond, long-haired man, who was just in front of the counter. “Children first, you say?” He cast a significant look in the direction of the huge tray filled with plates of sandwiches the guy was carrying.
“Boys and girls, a round of applause for the ugly ass here who volunteers!” the same redhead shouted. “Get in here, big ass. Put an apron around you and feed some hungry kids. Milk or sandwiches?”
“Milk, I guess, since the blondie took the sandwiches,” Dunstan answered, still not sure what the whole thing was about.
“Wise choice, meaty ass. Come here,” the redhead yelled again, making the other volunteers shake their heads, amused expressions on their faces. “Caleb, Avery and Erling, move your skinny asses into your room and take a shower, then change your clothes. One day, you’ll put your poor father and brother six feet under, and it will be the same with me, Grandfather and Luca.”
“Question,” Dunstan shouted, “what does a man have to do around here to be named nice ass, or sexy ass?”
“No chance in hell, mate,” Landon said, coming after another tray. “That title is reserved. If you happen to use it, Spitfire will bite your head off!”
“Spitfire, indeed.” Dunstan grinned. “I’ll be damned if I ever saw so much energy and a bigger mouth in someone so small, so skinny, so...”
All the children were fed by then, so they formed two long rows and headed in order and silence to a long, large building that occupied a whole side of the square. The realization suddenly hit Dunstan in full force: that was a shelter, a place where abused and neglected children were taken care of, their voice was listened to and life mattered.
Whoever did that, he thought, must have had a heart of gold and an enormous capacity of giving without expecting anything in return. Also, a constant flow of money for covering the expenses that, Dunstan was convinced, were huge. No standard charity organization could cover them integrally, no matter how important the sponsors were.
“So, mate, are you in search of a job? Sorry to disappoint you, but this is not the right place for someone who wants to shoot for the big bucks. Food and shelter are all we get for the work we do here, so take it or leave it,” the blond from earlier spoke, putting a gentle hand on Dunstan’s shoulder.
“Look, I’ll be honest with you.” The older man turned to face his conversation partner. “My name is Dunstan, and I came here to take over my uncle Godfrey’s organization, according to the unwritten laws of our clan. My men brought me here, but there must be a mistake because there’s no trace of him. However, I would like to know what this place is, who created it and how are the expenses covered.”
“Nice to meet you, Dunstan. I’m Landon Redford, a rescued child myself. There,” he pointed to a smaller, isolated building, “is where everything started. It was dank, dark, and we didn’t have a bed to sleep on, or a blanket to wrap around us, but we were happy because we had just escaped from living hell. Except poor Seymour with his burning scars, all of us kids were unscathed. However, someone paid a heavy price for that.”
“Hi, Landon.” A kid coming from the gates high-fived the blond. “Hello, new guy.” He waved to Dunstan, who was too shocked to react as the boy and his son Gavin were almost identical copies.
“Ave, Imperator.” The blond ruffled the boy’s dirty-blond hair. “How was school? Any new friends?”
“It was cool, hanging out with the blondies, as usual. The other kids are... I don’t know... weird, assholes?” The thirteen-year-old scratched at the back of his head. “There is one, though, we liked a lot, two actually. Natalina and Gavin. Nice names, nice kids. Gavin even got in a fight with some morons who pushed Colin into the lockers. He got a black eye, poor thing.”
“I hope you taught them a lesson,” Landon said, his eyes and voice turning cold. “Those who bully a smaller child who uses crutches to walk deserve no mercy or understanding.”
“Well, it was a collective thing, like Lochlin likes to say, but all of the morons paid for it. They even got suspended for three days straight.”
“What did you do?” Dunstan asked, his heart swelling with fatherly pride for how Gavin stepped in to defend the younger, disabled boy.
“We first had a Biology lab class, then lunch break, and so on. The sorry losers were so disoriented, they didn’t know what hit them when things started to happen, and they were blamed for everything.”
An amused grin started to spread on Landon’s face as the boy continued with the detail of his day at school. Indeed, he was something
, Dunstan thought, smiling internally, and in spite of the kid’s obvious inclination to shenanigans, he was also fond of studying, especially biology and sciences. Somehow, the man knew that the child would be a positive influence on Gavin and Natalina’s life.
“Here he goes.” Landon grinned widely as the kid left, heading to one of the buildings behind the two men. “The son and heir, fierce, protective and loyal, just like his father, and Spitfire’s best friend.”
“You seem to have a great admiration for this boy’s father. Is he special to you?” Dunstan asked.
“I owe everything to him. Thanks to that man, I’m here, today, talking to you, untouched, unharmed, because he endured the horrors of hell for us. Ardan kept us safe with the price of his body and sanity, letting himself be the guinea pig that human-faced monster experimented his sick fantasies on, so we could stay untouched. He was thirteen, the toughest, bravest man I’ve ever known.”
Landon headed to the guards’ quarters, leaving Dunstan baffled at the things he’d revealed. So, the reality of his cousin was not the one in that report, the man thought, wondering what else it was hiding or telling differently.
****
Bidding goodbye and good evening to each other, the men headed to their cars, leaving behind the little, secluded property that served as the meeting place for the Supreme Council since the American branch of the Dragons’ House had been established more than three centuries earlier.
Ardan stopped at Daniel’s, where Lorcan, who had bunked up with the blondies, had already finished all his homework, and then at Sebastian’s to pick Alasdair, who was chilling with Peyton and Ezra. In fact, Peyton was the only one who was actually chilling with the other two fussing over them. The baby bump had become even more visible, so the twin bed the two lovers slept in at Leon’s had been recently replaced with a king-size bed.
With his man and child embarked in the car, Ardan took off to The Base, getting ready for an uneventful, quiet evening. As usual, Alasdair and Lorcan started talking about anything and everything, their voices a heavenly sound to the older man’s ears.
“So, how was school?” The redhead grinned in the mirror, knowing how much the kid liked to talk about it.
“The biology teacher brought our tests today. She said I did stellar again. Thank you, Spitfire,” Lorcan said in a grateful, happy voice. “I got teamed up with Ragnar to write an essay for History class about our favorite political or military figure, and we chose Tarann Stark I, who was at Washington’s side from the beginning of the Revolutionary War.”
“Great. I’ll ask Grandfather to lend you all the books and documents you may need for your research.” Alasdair smiled warmly. “I have no doubt that your essay will be the best out there.”
“Thanks again, Spitfire. You’re the best.” Lorcan enthusiastically wiggled the fist into the air. We’ll show it to the Crispin brothers; the sorry losers will bite the dust once again.”
“The name sounds familiar,” Ardan intervened. “Aren’t those the boys who used to bully Kieran and Colin? The ones you and Gavin put in their place?”
“Yes, those two.” Lorcan nodded. “Speaking of Gavin, did you know that his and Natalina’s dad is no other than Dunstan, who works with Seymour in the administrative department?”
“Oh, is he?” A weak smile played on Ardan’s lips as he spoke. “I like the guy a lot, especially since Landon thinks very highly of him too.”
“Well, Landon’s right because, if it wasn’t for Gavin’s dad, things could’ve turned very ugly today. Miss Ava’s ex attacked her in the parking lot, pushed Kieran and yelled at us, but he messed with the wrong guy. Dunstan, I mean.”
“That bastard should have been taught a lesson a long time ago,” Ardan hissed through gritted teeth, “and I’m glad someone did it in the end. I have to thank Dunstan personally when we get to The Base.”
As the car stopped in front of the dorm building, Landon came out to greet the three, like he usually did when that area fell under his supervision. He was a little agitated, not his composed, calm self, the two men noticed, exchanging a questioning and confused look. However, they both dismissed it with a shrug, thinking that, most likely, the chief guard was worried for the little incubus, who was getting close to giving birth.
“Hello and good evening.” Landon smiled tiredly. “Everything is alright here, no incidents. Dunstan is waiting for you outside your office.” He looked in Ardan’s direction. “He wants to talk to you in private.”
“Perfect,” the man nodded, “because I also wanted to talk to him, to express my gratitude for today. Go ahead, guys. It won’t take long. I’ll be there just in time to tuck this little fellow in.” He ruffled Lorcan’s hair.
“No, we’re coming with you,” Alasdair said firmly. “I also have to thank the guy for what he did. Kiddo is the most important person in my life after you.”
The two men, accompanied by the teen, headed to the office where Dunstan was calmly waiting. “Let’s go inside.” Ardan smiled, shaking the man’s hand. “I have no secrets from them.”
“Look,” Dunstan started, once everyone took a seat, “I give you my word I mean no harm. I only wanted to see what kind of man my cousin was, if he’s as depraved as the reports described him, if he wants to kill me for power, just like my own father does. Promise me you’ll take care of my children, and then I’m ready to face my punishment for keeping my identity hidden from you. I’m Dunstan MacNamara.”
“Kill you? Why I would do that to a man who protected my son and his friends, to his best friend’s father? Just because you obey some stupid rules established a few hundred years ago? I don’t kill my own flesh and blood, especially those who are as trustworthy and loyal as you are,” Ardan spoke passionately.
“I thought that since you are Uncle Godfrey’s firstborn, the idea of being ordered around by another wouldn’t sit well with you.”
“Listen, cousin. The days when you looked over your shoulder are over. You have nothing to fear from now on. Welcome home.” Ardan opened his arms, hugging Dunstan tight.
CHAPTER 23
Six months later, the snowfall on Christmas Eve had children of all ages having the time of their life. Some of them, under Ardan’s close supervision, were building a snowman, the biggest in the whole world as they were enthusiastically proclaiming. Giggling and shouting, they were making giant snowballs, rolling them to the ‘construction site,’ very proud of their work.
At some point, Alasdair, who was engaged in building a snow fortress with Lorcan and Gavin as trusted helpers, abandoned the mission, staring in awe at his man, the embodiment of happiness. He was laughing, a pleasant, masculine, sexy but also innocent sound, lifting the little ones in his strong arms, so they could put the snowman’s eyes, nose and hat in place.
One by one, tired but with eyes still shining from excitement, the little kids went inside by themselves or helped by their parents for a well-deserved nap. Ardan was heading to the house, too, when a snowball softly hit him in the back. Turning to where the projectile came from, he saw Lorcan running while a smirking Alasdair was covering his retreat.
“What are you doing, Spitfire? How do you dare cover that traitorous son of mine instead of delivering him to my hands?”
“Easy, big guy! Take a look at the small ass here. He looks like he could use a helping hand. So sorry, but I’ll pass this time.” The redhead smiled charmingly.
“Alasdair Stark! Get out of my way right now, and I’ll forget you rebelled against me. If not, I’ll unleash hell on your sweet ass. Do you expect to be forgiven if you persist in that?” Ardan tried to sound menacing, without success.
“Of course, I do.” The grin on Alasdair’s face grew wider. “You’ll forgive me because I’m charming like that.”
“And because he’s my friend, and I’m your only son, you have no choice.” Lorcan came from behind the redhead, hugging him.
“Traitors!” Ardan grumbled, but the light in his eyes told a completely
different story, one of love, trust and happiness.
Alone in the office, Ardan plopped down onto the chair again, sighing heavily, while a barely-there smile played on his lips. This Christmas, he thought, was going to be special for his sweet Spitfire, an unforgettable moment. He had already spoken about it with his father and Dunstan, securing their support in the delicate mission.
However, if he wanted to do things right, Ardan would also need two of Alasdair’s male relatives on his side to speak for him in front of the Spitfire’s grandfather and father. The man knew he could count on Thaddeus’s help but was still undecided about the second person, going back and forth between Liam and Daniel.
In the end, none of the two won as Ardan chose Sebastian as the other supporter of his request. Imagining the expression on Alasdair’s face, the man smiled brighter. For once in the four years since they’d been together, the Spitfire was going to be speechless, he smirked.
****
“Hey guys, did you hear the news?” Brianna Bloom, Alasdair's cousin, came running from the library, making the older kids turn to her. “Something special is going to happen!”
“Enlighten us, cousin,” Justin dragged the words. “I’m in dire need of a distraction right now. Something that could make me forget.”
“Ardan’s going to propose Alasdair in style, according to an old Celtic ritual. Great-Uncle Alastair will open the library’s door so those who want to, can assist with the whole thing.”
“And when is that?” Justin asked, the boredom in his voice vanished in a split second, his dark-blue eyes sparking with interest.
“Right now! We can still get a good observation spot if we hurry up a little.”
The view was indeed impressive: Ardan was in the middle of the library, dressed in black pants and a black shirt, kneeling, determination, strength and love mixed on his face. Standing behind the man were his father and Dunstan, but also two Bloom brothers, Sebastian and Thaddeus.