“I can arrange for that paddling even now, boy. Show some respect for your elders.”
Mackie rolled his eyes. “Whatever you say, old man.” He shifted his attention to Alex. “Sorry, but I can tell you are all bothered by what Sergeant Duncan just said. I’d like to know why.”
“Me, too,” Quinn added, and that settled that. Alex denied the boy nothing.
“You’re right, dearest one. The presence of a scent unusual to humans may be relevant. We’re simply deciding on the best course of action. I apologize for our rude internal conversation.”
“Wait. Can you read each other’s minds?” This from the cop, who’d reclaimed his plate and munched on another bite of his sandwich.
Now, it was Val’s turn to roll his eyes. Many humans believed that vampires had telepathic abilities, when really it was a matter of humans being too easy to sway with force of will alone.
“No, Sergeant,” Alex answered. “We’re a crew, remember? We often communicated with expressions and gestures while onboard ship. Over the centuries, we’ve honed that skill to keep humans in the dark. Our native tongue is too jarring for humans to accept as natural to this world, so this is the only real privacy we have when among you.”
“I’ve texted Lucien,” Harry interjected. “He’s on his way.” Poor Harry. He was so protective of his husband and really hated bringing him into anything unpleasant.
Within a couple of minutes, the man appeared by way of the back stairs. He was, per usual, dressed casually in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. His black hair lay in a tight braid down his back. Lucien was the epitome of grace and didn’t need to wear expensive clothing to look elegant. Harry had lucked out with his boy, who would have been long-dead if not for consuming a steady diet of Harry’s blood.
He also had the distinction of having conceived and survived childbirth. It had been a close call, and thinking of it brought up a stabbing pain in Val. He’d barely been able to stay in the same house as his brethren during the ordeal. It had brought back the memories of… No, he couldn’t think of that now.
Lucien approached Harry. “What do you require?” He didn’t add the ‘sir’ but it was implied. The couple had their own kind of dominant and submissive relationship, except that Harry never laid a hand on Lucien’s head. He’d rescued the boy long ago from a San Francisco brothel where powerful men had used young boys for sexual pleasure before American law had forbidden it. Lucien had been sold into servitude by his family and forced into docility, although it seemed to be natural to him, as well. As near as Val could tell, Harry had never abused his power. It was all about consent and control, however. Anyone could see their mutual devotion.
Cupping his husband’s chin, Harry gazed into the man’s eyes. “I must ask of you something that would normally be unthinkable.” Leaning down, he spoke softly into his ear, explaining the situation and what was required. The humans couldn’t have heard it, and Val did his best to block it out. It was too intimate for eavesdropping.
Lucien bowed his head. “If you say this is necessary, then, of course, I will do as you ask.”
Harry placed a tender kiss on his head. “Emil, a napkin, if you please.” He took the proffered cloth and led Lucien over to Duncan. “I would ask that you stand, Sergeant.”
The cop got to his feet, uncertainty written on his face. “Sure. What do you need? Nice to see you again, Mr. Stelalux,” he added with a nod at Lucien.
“And you, as well, Sergeant.”
Harry lifted Lucien’s arm, careful to place the napkin under the forearm. He brought the wrist to his mouth. “Please take a sniff quickly, as I don’t intend to waste my husband’s precious blood any more than is necessary.”
“I’m not sure I understand,” the human said right before Harry struck.
Val had to avert his eyes. The sight of one of his kind taking blood from another was also too intimate. To watch, even in this circumstance, was a kind of voyeurism that he couldn’t stoop to. He assumed the others were doing the same, but what did the humans think of it? Quinn would understand. Mackie, as well, given that he’d let Val feast off him often enough. Logan had probably seen so much horror in her life that this little show would make no impression. Indeed, he looked in her direction because it was the safest one. Her expression was entirely neutral.
But Val couldn’t remain detached from what Harry did. What he could not see, he could smell. The luscious scent of fresh blood made his nostrils flare. His softening dick went rigid once more. He became aware of the steady beat of a heart. Not just anyone’s—Mackie’s. On a deep inhale, he swung his vision over to the boy and latched onto the tiny pulse at the base of the boy’s throat. No human would have been able to detect it. He could. The sight caused saliva to pool in his mouth and his fangs descended.
“Holy fuck!” That was the cop.
“Breathe in the scent. Quickly now.”
The strain in Harry’s voice pained Val. How was the man able to score his husband’s wrist and not drink deeply from it? The self-control required was impressive. Val doubted he possessed it himself. He flicked his tongue across his fangs and kept his sight peeled on Mackie’s jugular.
His interest must have been felt by the boy because he turned his own gaze away from what Harry was doing and focused on Val. His green eyes went wide before they narrowed to sultry. He lifted one small hand to press a finger right over the pulse point. The brat knew exactly what Val was thinking. It would serve him right if Val marched over, lifted him up, sank his fangs into that delicate flesh, and drank, and drank…
“Val!”
The sharp tone snapped him out of his reveries. He focused on Alex. “Sorry, boss.” He understood by the way the others were looking at him that he’d missed something.
Alex raised his eyebrows. “Sergeant Duncan was confirming how Lucien’s blood smells the way he would interpret the coroner’s description.”
“Oh.” He looked over at Duncan, who was sitting back and, by all appearances, wasn’t going to be touching any more of his lunch.
The man ran a hand down his face. “Yeah, I mean, I guess. I wish I’d smelled it for myself back in the morgue. All I can say for sure is that I’ve smelled blood plenty of times, and what I just got a whiff of is way different.” He shot Lucien a wan smile. “No offense.”
Lucien nodded graciously. “Of course not. I am different, after all.”
Having already lapped the wound closed, Harry kissed the inside of his husband’s wrist before letting it go. “Thank you, my dear. I’ll meet you upstairs in a little while.”
“I would prefer to stay, if you will permit it.”
Harry clearly didn’t like that idea. “This is terrible business. I would not have you be a party to any more of it than is necessary.”
“I am not so delicate, husband. Please.” That was the end of that discussion. Harry was too smitten to deny Lucien anything.
The love between the two men was another painful thing that Val couldn’t watch for long. He asked the obvious question for the humans’ benefit. “What does this tell us?”
“I’d like to know that myself,” Duncan added.
Alex answered them both. “It implies that the dead man had ingested our blood.”
“Is that all?” Duncan asked. “What does that mean for a human?”
“It lengthens their life, for one thing,” Alex replied.
Duncan scoffed. “Not in this case.”
“Clearly,” Alex conceded. “It doesn’t normally cause a human to go mad, as you can see from Lucien’s well-being.”
“So, what are the other things?”
Now everyone else in the room, save Logan, made themselves busy looking elsewhere. This was a bad time to share all the details of their lives on Earth with the cop. He had proven to be reliable in many respects, but there was no certainty that he’d keep their secret forever. The less he knew, the better.
Val stepped into the silence, for once taking the lead when Alex normally
would. His boss was sometimes too diplomatic and too trusting. “Nothing relevant, except it doesn’t normally change their eyes red, and that’s the important point here.”
“What would do that?”
“We don’t know,” Alex replied.
“And, that’s what’s got us worried,” Val added. He really wanted to say scared shitless because he, for one, was. In a thousand years, this was a new development, and when it came to Dracul, new was always bad.
Duncan sighed. “Maybe the tox screen will tell us something, although would it tell them that he had alien blood in him?” His eyes brightened. Clearly the prospect of the secret getting out in an evidenced-based way pleased him.
“It presents no differently than purely human blood does chemically, because once it leaves a living host, our species’ component dies and disintegrates.” This from Harry, who was forcing liquids on a patient Lucien as if he’d bled him heavily. “Unless it’s immediately suspended in a saline-based solution,” he added, treating his husband to a love-infused smile.
Duncan visibly deflated. “Oh. Well…maybe what’s left of the human blood will tell us something useful. The only other thing I can say about the poor bastard is that the coroner thought he was homeless. His physical condition indicated it.”
“How so?” Alex asked.
“Um…” Duncan shrugged again and picked up his plate. Apparently the man’s stomach was stronger that it had appeared, or maybe the topic had reminded him that he was lucky enough to have food available.
“He was dirty, right?” They all focused their attention on Logan. The woman rarely said one word, and that was mostly to Emil. Now she’d risen from her seat and come into the living room. “It was ingrained within the folds of his skin and under his nails because bathing means a quick splash in a public toilet before you’re rousted by cops or security.
“His feet were bad because he doesn’t have shoes that fit and he spends a lot of time walking around the city. If he lingers too long anywhere, the same cops and-or security move him along.” She folded her arms and asked Duncan, “Does that about cover it?”
“Yeah,” he answered around his mouthful of food. He didn’t seem any too happy about the situation, nor should he. The humans had never been good at taking care of their own people.
On Val’s home world, the concept of homeless didn’t exist. Everyone lived in a lesser hive that made up the greater hive of their species. No one ever lived alone. Humans had been mostly like that when they’d first arrived, living in multigenerational homes. It had changed in the last century and the idea of the elderly and the sick being left to fend for themselves was abhorrent to him. To all of them. The pain underscoring Logan’s recitation was clear to their ears. Duncan had heard it as well, and that empathy made him a cut above the average human in Val’s estimation.
Logan changed her focus to Alex. “I can ask around and see if anyone knew the dead guy.”
Alex inclined his head. “I appreciate the offer. Are you sure you wish to become involved? You know what this is likely to lead to.”
Logan bared her teeth. “A fight. I’m good at those. You aliens don’t scare me much, either. And you sure as fuck haven’t cornered the market on horror. We humans do fine with that on our own.”
“Very well. Thank you.”
“Hey!” Duncan spoke up. “Don’t I get a say in this? The streets are dangerous even without aliens mucking around. You’re safe here. Leave this investigation to me. I’ve got contacts out there.”
“You only think you do.” Logan sneered. “They won’t talk to you the way they will me. If the dead guy has a name, I’ll find it out. If he was up to weird shit, I can find that out, too. It’s a matter of time, that’s all. I don’t like being inside anyway. It makes me twitchy.”
Emil came up. “Let me go with you.”
Logan smiled. The woman actually raised her lips and exposed her teeth in something other than a snarl. She put her hand on Emil’s biceps. “Naw, thanks for the offer, but they’d only mark you as a narc. You’re too clean-cut.”
That was the first time anyone had used those words to describe Emil that Val knew of. The guy went all sheepish on her, as if he were embarrassed by the observation. Not for the first time, Val wondered what their relationship was. Emil had played with human males from time-to-time, yet mostly kept to himself. It was probably no more than an affection for a female in a hive-bonding kind of way. Females had been few and far between in their circle.
“I can take care of myself,” she added, stepping back and heading for the elevator.
“Don’t forget the phone I gave you,” Emil admonished to her back. She waved at his words and kept going.
“Well,” Alex said, “I suppose it’s as good a plan as any. There’s nothing we can do ourselves anyway.”
“Except wait,” Val reminded him. “If this is a Dracul move, it’s only the first volley. There will be more coming.”
It was the cop who expressed their collective sentiment. “Fan-fucking-tastic.”
Chapter Four
Because the club members were well-heeled men, they tended to behave themselves. Being the bouncer didn’t usually give Val much to do except wander around, making sure the boys weren’t being harassed. Being a warrior, he needed physical activity to release his energy and relieve the boredom. It had been different for most of his time on this miserable planet. There had been endless wars for him to wade in on. Any time the humans had produced a lull, Dracul had always been there to stir the pot. As grizzly as war was, it did keep one busy and tired.
Now he had to rely on the club’s workout room. The moment humans had any free time, they started finding ways to spend their own nervous energy and keep off the fat that plagued them. Val found the idea of using fancy machines ridiculous and avoided them when he could. The punching bag, however, was another story. Hitting something inert satisfied his restlessness without hurting anyone. Nothing for him to feel guilty about, and it kept him from being overly aggressive with the club members.
Especially the ones who hovered around Mackie.
Yeah, if he were honest with himself, it was the redheaded brat who drove him to punch the shit out of the boxing bag. Screw Dracul and his world domination crap. Val had, and could a thousand more years, faced down the traitorous male. But a diminutive boy with a fuck-you attitude gave him fits and had since the first time he’d laid eyes on him. He could still picture the skinny boy shivering in the middle of a brutally cold night, offering to do anything for a chance to get out of the frigid air.
Having lived among humans for so long, Val had developed an ability to see their emotions in their eyes. Mackie had been scared shitless of Val, yet had been more scared of freezing to death. There had also been something more there—desire. Despite the cold and the fear, the boy had wanted Val. So, Val had taken him—not to his bed, not that night or for many more after that. Instead, he’d brought him to Emil for food then to Alex for a job.
If he’d been smart, he would have left it at that. He hadn’t been. He’d dismissed the warning bells in his head and had invited the boy not only to bed, but also to the play rooms that Val had developed a taste for. Amazingly, Mackie had taken to the BDSM play with ease. The boy was naturally sensuous and submissive, which made him dangerous—for Val, anyway.
The workout room was empty, thank Christ. He wasn’t in the mood for chatting or sharing. He stripped to the waist and headed right for the punching bag hanging in the corner. There were gloves, although no one ever used them. The boys didn’t like boxing and Val certainly didn’t need them. Balling his hands into fists, he started in with a few warm-up jabs. Seconds later, he was beating the crap out of the thing.
He pummeled away, giving free rein to his natural speed and force. He knew the bag could take it as he’d set the thing up himself. With no one else currently in the club, other than those in the know about his true nature, he had no fear of discovery. He needed the outlet, to attack the
bag as a substitute. Not of a person… He didn’t picture Dracul’s smug face or any other. No, his target became his perception of himself, all his emotions contained in one big, stuffed piece of leather.
The vicious blows he landed were against his damn feelings of longing for his home world and the hive. He punched out with his fists at the constraints of being trapped on a planet where he was forced to hide in the shadows. The hot, bright sun, the uncomfortable heat… The constant squabbles that humans had, giving Dracul easy ground to sow his deadly meddling. He hated it all and wanted to beat it to bloody remnants.
Val held nothing back, his arms and fists a blur to his own eyes. The bag shimmied with equal speed. The metal chain holding it up creaked ominously. His breath puffed out like the driving rhythm of a ship’s engines. His grunts turned to growls, his growls to a roar. He jabbed left, then right—short, vicious blows driven purely by power and no finesse. He attacked the bag without mercy, driving it up and out. There was no stopping the need to vanquish his emotions.
Pain. Loss.
His last punch sent the bag flying from its tether. It hit the opposite wall with a crash that he couldn’t even hear over the deafening sounds of his own demon thoughts and his harsh breaths. He stood staring, yet not seeing, trying to calm himself, then wondering what difference did it make anyway?
“Holy shit!”
Val whirled at the exclamation and had trouble processing who he was looking at through the lingering haze of his rage. He saw red, literally, and creamy pale skin surrounding wide, green eyes. Mackie. Of course, it would be the one person he didn’t want to be there. The boy was staring at him, his eyebrows raised and his lips parted. He was dressed like a reject from that stupid aerobics craze in the eighties. His hair was pulled back with a headband that matched his hair color, and he wore blue yoga pants with a skin-tight white tank top. The new belly ring he’d gotten added a tiny bump in the middle of an otherwise flat, taut stomach. The human looked adorable, as always. Lickable. Fuckable.
Dangerous Dance Page 6
