Star Dance

by Samantha Cayto

  “But that’s not how it works with us, like? I mean…everyone talked of Dafydd’s baby as being a boy without question.”

  “You humans are different for sure. A changed boy seems to keep his essential maleness with a bit of the female thrown in. So far as I know, he can only contribute his Y chromosomes and produce male children, not that science is, or has ever been, my area. Harry would be able to answer your questions better.”

  “Harry?”

  Malcolm paused in his efforts, debating how much he should share at the moment with Brenin. It didn’t seem like the right time to mention the war and about going to Boston. And what would he do if the human refused to go with him? He couldn’t hold him captive. That would be a repudiation of everything they’d fought for over the years.

  He settled on giving just the basics. “Aye, he’s one of my kind who has become a doctor, actually. He kens a lot about human physiology.”

  “Oh. Does he live around here, then?”

  “No. He’s in Boston with his husband and son. It’s a true marriage and all that,” he was quick to reassure him. “They’ve been together for a very long time, and a happier couple I’ve never met.”

  Brenin didn’t respond and gave nothing away about how he was taking that news. He was silent as Malcolm finished up with the rinse. Malcolm grabbed a towel off the nearby rack and started wicking the water from the hair.

  “So are you like us, then, warring all the time?” the boy asked out of nowhere.

  “Not anymore, no. Eventually the queens unified under the Great Queen and her global hive. The lesser ones have sub-hives and there are many families within each one headed by a daughter who might produce a child or two. It’s the queens, though, that perpetuate our species the most, and we haven’t had a need for changing males for a long time. Well before my own birth, that’s for certain.”

  “Are you invaders?”

  Malcolm stilled his movements. “No. We’re marooned and have been for a thousand years. Didnae that come up while you were with… Didnae you hear that before?” he amended, because he hated reminding the boy of what he so recently had escaped.

  Brenin grimaced and shook his head lightly. “No. I thought…” He sighed. “I didn’t think anything, actually. I only tried to survive. I assumed you intended to be here and it’s a matter of who of you will succeed in taking over this world.”

  Malcolm took the risk of cupping the human’s chin and gently turning his head so that he could look at him. Not that Brenin was helping… He kept his gaze downward. “Look at me, please, laddie.” He waited for the boy to raise his beautiful brown eyes. “No one is going to conquer this world. My friends and I won’t let him. We’re here by mistake and all most of us want to do is live out the rest of our lives in peace.”

  “Can’t you go home?”

  “No.” Admitting it pained Malcolm to the core. As much as he loved the Highlands, he would give anything to see his family, hive and world again.

  “Will no one come for you?”

  “They don’t even know where to look. We went off course and there’s no trail in space for them to follow. It was an error in judgment.” Mine. He didn’t say that, of course. There was no point other than to reassure Brenin that Earth wasn’t about to be invaded by more monsters.

  With a last squeeze of the hair, he reluctantly let go and stood. “There, better, eh?”

  Brenin dropped his gaze again. “Yes, thank you.”

  “Do you want to get out and go to bed?” The mention of it caused a vision to flash through his head that he ruthlessly suppressed.

  “Now, in a minute.”

  Malcolm grinned. “My internal Welsh translator tells me that means you need more time.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Och, call me Malcolm, laddie. Remember? You’re a guest in this house, after all.”

  The boy gnawed at his lower lip. “You were going to call me Brenin. Remember?”

  Malcolm almost laughed over his pleasure from the boy throwing his own words back at him. That was a good sign, surely. “Aye, I do. I’ll give you your privacy, but call if you need help getting out of the tub.”

  He didn’t wait for a response. Heading back into the bedroom, he started pacing. Too much nervous energy coursed through him for sitting again. There were few sounds coming from the bath. Having been washed clean, the human was likely simply lying there. The water was cooling, though. Soon it would be a detriment for the boy to remain, plus the meds might make him dangerously sleepy. He could slip under the water. He resolved to go check in a few minutes. Before he could, Brenin called out.

  “Um, Malcolm? I could use some help, like, if you could.”

  Malcolm sped back in, slowing his movements at the last moment so as not to startle the human. “I’m here.”

  Seeing the boy half-risen from the water, he quickly grabbed a big, fluffy towel from a nearby wall bar. He unfolded it and held it out. It acted partially as a shield to give Brenin privacy and to keep Malcolm’s inappropriate dick in check. It wasn’t easy, but he managed to help the boy out while covering him at the same time. Brenin swayed when his two feet hit the bathroom floor. Malcolm was forced to wrap his arms around the boy’s shoulders and waist to steady him.

  “Easy. I’ve got you now, la— Brenin. Let’s get you tucked in for the night.” He forced himself to speak casually and not censor his words to accommodate his own weakness.

  Instead of stiffening with the touch as he had in the past, the human actually clung to him as they shuffled carefully out of the bathroom. Malcolm counted that no-small show of trust as a victory and was careful to keep his half-hard cock from touching any part of Brenin. Thank God for jeans. Even worn ones were better at hiding his erection than a kilt would have been.

  When he tried to help Brenin sit on the bed, the boy resisted. “I’m still wet, especially my hair.” He licked his lips. “I don’t want to ruin the sheets, like. Or the pillow.”

  “Don’t fash yourself about that. There’s probably enough bedding in this old place to populate an entire town’s worth of homes.”

  Brenin stifled a yawn and didn’t resist as Malcolm helped him to swing his legs up. Malcolm performed a magician-worthy feat of pulling the towel away while tugging the covers up sufficiently to hide the human’s most private parts. They were both better off for that effort at modesty. He did, however, wipe the boy’s lower legs and feet dry before covering him completely. The effort was intended to make Brenin more comfortable, the bedding be damned.

  “There now.” Malcolm stood back, his hands wringing the cloth he held. “Is there anything I can get you?”

  Brenin ran his tongue along his upper teeth. “I forgot to brush. I didn’t have much chance when I was— You know.” He started to pull the covers off.

  “Stay,” Malcolm ordered, afraid that the boy would simply tumble out of bed, all naked and pink from his bath. “I’ll get everything you need.”

  He hurried back into the bathroom, cursing the human race’s oversensitivity to odors these days. Fortunately, everything had been properly stocked, although he had to improvise when it came to finding something for the boy to spit into. A plastic tub filled with odds and ends under the sink served the need once emptied. He juggled it, a brush with paste and a cup of water into the bedroom. He felt awkward, thinking himself a poor nursemaid, yet unable to pass the task over to Darling.

  He left the bathroom light on, tipping the door so only a sliver of it would illuminate the bedroom. He found the boy lying where he’d left him and with his eyes closed. Brenin opened them, though, at Malcom’s approach and did a good job on his own sitting up to tend to his oral cleaning. Whatever minor grievance Malcolm had harbored over the whole thing melted away in the face of how much the human was truly enjoying the simple opportunity of brushing his teeth.

  When he’d spat out the last of his mouthful, the boy lay back and blinked sleepily up at him. “Thanks awfully. It’s grand being clean again.”<
br />
  “It’s not much, but I’m glad it helps.”

  He returned everything to the bathroom and took his time with it. He hoped Brenin would be fast asleep by the time he finished. No such luck. The boy was lying on his side, watching for Malcolm’s return. With the way his eyelids drooped, it was a miracle he was still awake.

  Malcolm stuck his hands in his front pockets. “All set, then? Do you need anything else?”

  Brenin shook his head and yawned. “I’m fine. Thanks, again. You’ve been terribly kind.”

  Malcolm would have waved the remark away, except he noticed something lurking behind the sentiment. There was a wariness, he thought, in the boy’s eyes. “You understand this room is for you and you alone. When I leave here, I won’t be coming back unless you ask me to. In fact, if you need anything during the night, all you have to do is pull that tasseled rope by the bed there and it rings down in Darling’s room. Don’t hesitate to use it.”

  Brenin blinked rapidly. “I won’t…need anything during the night, that is. If I do, I’d rather you come than your…um, what did you call him?”

  “Majordomo.”

  “Right. Well, no offense to him. I’m sure he’s a fine man, and a human at that. But I’m not so good with strange men these days and you, at least, I know.” He dropped his gaze. “I mean, you’ve tended to me at my most vulnerable now, so…”

  Malcolm tried not to read anything of importance into that statement. It was only what the boy said, a matter of the devil he knew. And, for a certainty, Malcolm was no saint, not the way his dick kept punching against his fly, as if it didn’t have any more sense than God gave a goose—which, of course, it didn’t, dumb thing that it was.

  “I’m only down the hall, Brenin. If you need me, call my name. I’ll hear you. Count on it.”

  Brenin tucked his hand under his pillow. He looked impossibly young and terribly vulnerable. If Malcolm hadn’t been hellbent on killing Dracul before, in that instant he was.

  “Thanks. I won’t, but thanks all the same.” He paused and his gaze flicked away a second. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Of course. Ask me anything you like.”

  “Why aren’t you wearing your kilt?”

  Och, now that was the last thing he’d expected out of the boy, and how to explain without making him uncomfortable. “Jeans are the first thing to come along in centuries that are equally comfortable, thanks to Mr. Levi Strauss. They cover me up a bit more, and well, I didn’t want to be a distraction to the estimable Doc McPhee.”

  He hoped the lie would be taken as an attempt at humor, given that the real reason was to ease Brenin’s fear of him. The more he looked like any other human, the better. Flashing less skin made sense, too.

  Brenin raised his eyebrows at the explanation then giggled. The carefree and unguarded moment made him appear even younger and so adorable that Malcolm’s heart skipped a beat. “Oh, you’re taking the piss.”

  Malcolm grinned back. “Perhaps.”

  Brenin returned the smile for a few seconds before becoming somber again. “I was just curious is all.”

  “Be so as much as you like, Brenin. I’ll never lie to you and no question will ever offend me. Now, off you go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He made his feet move toward the door, keeping the bed and the boy within his sight until it was time to take hold of the knob and turn it. Then he turned off the overhead light and stepped out into the hall.

  “Malcolm!”

  He whirled around, ready to run back in.

  “Thank you for saving me,” Brenin called out from his bed.

  “You’re welcome. And you’re safe here. On my life, you are.”

  As he closed the door, he took a few deep breaths for courage and made himself keep going, when all he wanted to do was sit right there for the whole night. But, he’d promised the human that nothing and no one would hurt him here, and that included him, most of all.

  Chapter Four

  “Sir, you’ll kill him.”

  Dafydd’s vision tunneled as he gasped for breath. Instinct had him fighting to live, even while he welcomed the death Dracul was handing him with his crushing fingers. He managed a grimaced smile in defiance as he glared up at his torturer.

  “Sir!” Petru loomed behind Dracul then Drogo joined him. The two of them tugged at Dracul’s arms to stop him. “Think of your son, sir. If you kill the slut, you kill your seed.”

  Dracul bared his teeth and snarled. For a second, his hold tightened more before he unclenched his fingers and let go. Dafydd gasped for air, coughing and heaving breath into his burning lungs.

  Dracul huffed beside the bed as if it had been he who had been strangled. His red eyes bore into Dafydd with a hatred that he’d rarely shown, even in his most monstrous moments. No surprise there. Dafydd had deprived him of a toy and, worse, had bested Dracul at his own game—had transgressed against his very person.

  “You’re dead,” he spat out. “When my son is liberated from your body, you will die in agony. I promise you that.”

  Dafydd stared back in defiance. While he lacked the breath to respond, he did his best to convey his contempt with his eyes alone. He wasn’t afraid anymore. At this point, he welcomed death. Against all odds, Brenin had made it. He’d escaped the castle grounds and, based on what Petru had said, the boy still hadn’t been found. Dafydd could only hope he never would be. He welcomed Dracul’s fury, knowing that it had been Dafydd’s own efforts that had caused it. It was pathetic, to be sure, that such a thing brought him pleasure, but such was what his life had come to.

  Dracul turned to Drogo. “How did it happen?”

  “Sir?”

  “Don’t play dumb with me,” Dracul spat out the warning as he advanced on the doctor. “How was it that Dafydd could drug me? Where did he get the necessary medicine—and in such quantity?”

  Ah, finally.

  His haze of anger was lifting and he was working out how he’d been bested. Dafydd would have felt sorry for the doctor if the creature hadn’t been cut of the same monstrous cloth. He’d used Dafydd for his own sadistic needs and had exacted a heavy price for the help.

  Drogo backed up with his hands raised. “Sir, I don’t know. He must have procured local plants during his outings before he was confined by you, like his anti-contraception medicine.” The man’s nervous gaze flashed over to Dafydd. “Your slut has ever been treacherous.”

  Nice try.

  Dracul’s steps didn’t stop. “That is true, but I’m not a fool. There is no way he could have stored away and processed anything on this miserable mountainside, hidden it and poisoned my wine with it without my noticing.” He shook his head slowly. “No, he had help.

  “And who else would have such access and knowledge?” He sprang forward to close the gap between them. He grabbed Drogo by the neck and leaped across the room, sending them both crashing against the far wall.

  “What price did you extract for your betrayal?” Dracul lifted Drogo by his throat, making the man’s legs dangle and dance against the stone. “Did the slut suck your cock or did you dare put that pathetic thing into another of the holes that I alone control?”

  Dracul shook the doctor and banged him against the wall in emphasis. Drogo clawed at the hand that was crushing his windpipe. The speed with which Dracul choked the life out of the other creature made Dafydd appreciate how much the monster had been reining in his strength moments ago. Then, in a blur, Dracul replaced his hand with his teeth and ripped Drogo’s throat out. By the time he let go, ashes scattered around him and piled up on the floor.

  There was silence in the room, the only sound being the harsh breaths of both Dafydd and Dracul. Petru made no noise at all, merely stood calmly waiting for his orders, as per usual. He really was the perfect dog to lick Dracul’s hand.

  “Get that piece of trash out of my bed and my sight. Take him to the tower room in the west wing. Chain him to the bed there. I’ll have no more trouble from h
im.”

  “Yes, sir.” Petru didn’t move, however. He opened his mouth.

  Dracul, who wasn’t even looking at him, somehow sensed his lieutenant had more to say. “What?”

  “It’s just that with Drogo…gone, there is no one to deliver your son safely.” Petru took a hesitant step toward his master. “I mean, from what I’ve seen of birth, the babe is at risk as much as the slut bearing him.”

  Dracul whirled around, his face contorted once more with rage. To his credit, in a way, Petru didn’t cringe or even go into a defensive stance, not that he’d done anything wrong. No, that was Dracul. Dafydd laughed inside at the notion that the monster had allowed his impulses to hinder his own plans. The little creature moving inside Dafydd would likely not survive being ripped from his womb.

  “We’ll get another doctor,” Dracul said, as if the answer were too obvious to be discussing.

  “A human can’t be trusted, and there is only one other of our kind qualified.”

  “Don’t waste my time stating the obvious, Petru. Go get him.”

  “Horatiu won’t help you, sir,” Petru replied, again showing a surprising amount of courage. “He would rather die, I’m sure.”

  Dracul grimaced and practically stamped his feet in frustration. “Then make sure you bring leverage along with him. He has a slut and a brat of his own. Either will do. For fuck’s sake, do I have to think of everything?” he added, throwing up his hands.

  Petru inclined his head. “Of course, sir. A good idea.”

  “Of course it’s a good idea!” Dracul stomped his way over to his favorite chair, grabbing the bottle of wine as he sat. He started to take a swig from the bottle before frowning at it and throwing it into the fireplace.

  He sat fuming for a few seconds. “Clean up that mess,” he said, jerking his thumb at the pile that was once Drogo. “Get my slut out of here then send yours to me, along with a new bottle of wine.”

  Petru had turned and was in the process of tugging Dafydd to a sitting position. He froze and looked over his shoulder. “Andri?”