“You said that wasn’t possible.” Brenin scuffed his toe on the stone floor and held his place. It was stupid to continue this little dance around the room—and mystifying.
“So I did—and it isn’t.” Pulling away again, Malcolm shook his head with a grimace. He also appeared relieved to see Brenin had remained where he was. “I’m sure they’ve written us off as dead and dust. They would have grieved then carried on with little thought to us again. That’s life in a hive.”
Brenin resisted the urge to approach him for a second or two before he started moving again. He came within a foot of the alien and made an aborted attempt at touching his arm. “I’m that sorry.”
Malcolm cocked his head. “Are you now? After all my kind has put you through, you can still sympathize with me?”
Brenin’s cheeks heated and he couldn’t keep his gaze steady. “Why not? It wasn’t you who hurt me and I know well what it’s like to have no home to return to.”
Malcolm reached out briefly before he snatched his hand back as if he, also, had had the urge to touch then thought better of it. “You have no place to go, then, even free from Dracul?”
Brenin shook his head. “I was living in a shelter with empty pockets. When Dracul’s dog, Petru, snatched me, I was out and about to try my luck at the one thing I thought I could do to make some fast money.”
“Och, laddie, no.”
Brenin looked up at him and blinked back tears. “Jobs are scarce and I’ve got no training.”
“There’s always jobs that don’t involve selling your body.”
“Easy for you to say, living in this fine castle.”
“Perhaps you’re right. Who am I to give advice? I’ve made a rare hash of things since I stepped foot on the starship. That’s for certain.”
“You saved my life, so I can’t agree with you there.”
“Och, well…” Malcolm took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You should leave.”
Brenin blinked at him again, suddenly fearful of what it would mean to be out on his own. “I don’t have anywhere to go! Can’t you give me a job, like? I’m sure I can learn about salmon or whiskey-making.”
Malcolm startled him by cupping his face in a move too fast to see. Brenin should have pulled away in fright, yet he stood there, staring up at the alien, feeling comforted. “I meant leave this room, laddie. Not the castle.”
“Oh!” Brenin stifled a laugh. “That wasn’t very wise of me.”
Malcolm ran his thumb along Brenin’s jaw. “You can stay as long as you like here. If you want a job, I’ll give you one…when you’re ready.”
Brenin smiled. “Thanks.”
“But you really must leave. The blood… Well, I don’t have to tell you what it does to me, do I?”
Brenin’s smile died and he flicked his gaze downward. Or, tried to.
“Don’t, please. I can’t control it and I don’t want to scare you.” Letting go, Malcolm turned his back on him. “Off to bed, laddie. I’ll see you in the morning.”
It was on the tip of Brenin’s tongue to protest before he remembered that Malcolm was right. He didn’t want to see how drinking the blood had aroused this man. Brenin wasn’t ready for anything even remotely like a sexual encounter for all that he was beginning to feel comfortable in Malcolm’s company.
He headed for the door. “Yes, you’re right. Good night, then.” He fled down the stairs faster than was wise. Before he reached the bottom, the shrill notes of the bagpipe met his ears. He couldn’t help but smile.
.
Chapter Five
Mackie shut off the music—again—so he could demonstrate the steps.
With a groan, Demi flopped down on a nearby chair. “Come on, you guys. This is getting boring.”
Mackie twirled around and leveled a killer stare at him. “I’m sorry, Demi, that we mere humans lack your alien grace and perfect timing. We need to practice.”
“It’s my fault,” Jase said with a grimace. “I’m not very good at dancing.”
“You’re doing fine, sweetie. Better than,” he added, shooting Demi a stern look. “We’ll have these routines down before the club reopens, no problem. There’s plenty of time. It will be a wonderful surprise for the members. And it has the added benefit of letting you dance without those men pawing over you and making Emil lose his shit.”
“That’s right,” Quinn added and gave Jase a pat on the back. “They can shower us with money on the dance floor and we can divvy it up.”
Jase hunched his shoulders. “I don’t know. The kitchen will keep me pretty busy, you know, when it’s finished. Dancing isn’t necessary.”
Demi groaned again and slid down even more in the chair. “Oh my God, can we get on with it?”
He knew he was being a brat, yet couldn’t help himself. Ever since the latest round with Dracul and his part in it, he’d been a prisoner in the club. His fathers wouldn’t let him step foot outside, even chaperoned. He was going stir-crazy. And it wasn’t fair. Just because he’d taken the initiative and gone beyond the scope of his parents’ permission, he was being treated like a felon. He had saved lives and yet that didn’t matter because he was still only a child and shouldn’t have put his own life at risk.
It was enough to make him scream and tear out his hair, except he would never do that because it was so fabulous. It was the only part of him that felt right. Everything else infuriated him. His skin was too tight and even though he was knocking Mackie’s dance routine out of the park, he felt clumsy and out of sorts. His thirst for blood had increased a lot lately and the bags of blood his father gave him weren’t satisfying his hunger. He would typically ask his fathers if what he was feeling was normal for a human or his other half, but he wasn’t talking to them much. Every discussion seemed to devolve into an argument. Sure, that was mostly on him. Still, they had started it with this keeping him shut away shit.
He twisted to hang his head over the arm and stared upside-down at the boys on the floor. It was impossible to appreciate how these simple dance moves could be hard for them to learn instantly and execute flawlessly. It all came so easily to him. The stupid thing was that he wouldn’t be able to perform. He was only killing time doing it with them. Once the club reopened, he would be stuck upstairs in the family’s apartment, never joining in—always the outsider.
Suddenly, he couldn’t stand it anymore. With another twist, he was upright and on his feet. “This is boring. I’m going.” He stomped over to the elevator.
He could hear Jase saying he hoped it wasn’t his fault and Mackie reassuring the boy that Demi was being his usual difficult self. He almost returned to them. They were as close to friends as he’d ever gotten. His childhood had been pathetically lonely. There had been no other hybrids to hang with and, of course, he had to stay away from human children. He had always been too fast and strong and everything else, along with being unable for a long time to understand why he had to pretend to be something he wasn’t. Now that he did get it, it was still risky for him to hang with anyone other than those who knew his secret.
Not that he fit in with his family members’ lovers and husband… He was far older than them by human standards but also younger in some ways. It was hard to relate to them and the adults treated him like he was nothing other than a kid. One man in particular came to mind, not that he was going to let Trey Duncan occupy his thoughts. The man was frustrating, although Demi had gleaned some interest in his eyes. Or maybe Demi was fooling himself.
He stomped out of the elevator and into the family living room. His fathers stood squaring off, clearly in the middle of a tense discussion. That was his fault, too. Dad was mad at Papa for involving Demi in the scheme to bring down Marius and he wasn’t over it by a long shot. His normally submissive human father had been uncharacteristically confrontational with his husband. They’d been careful, as always, not to fight in front of him, yet he could tell there was friction between them.
Demi refused to feel guilty abo
ut it. He’d also become so annoyed at the both of them that he’d defaulted to calling them both ‘father’ and speaking to them as little as possible. Childish? Yes. He couldn’t help himself. His fathers stopped talking the moment they noticed him and stood in a deceptively unified front to stare at him. Ignoring them, he walked across the living room to head for his room.
“Demi!” His dad’s sharp tone had Demi’s feet stopping before his brain registered the command. Such was the nature of his upbringing. He turned and waited. “Why are you dressed that way?”
Demi glanced down at his yoga pants and crop top. “I was dancing. You know, with Quinn, Mackie and Jase. Why? Is that something else I can’t do? There aren’t any club members around to see. My virtue remains intact.” He folded his arms and glared.
Papa moved with a speed that even Demi couldn’t track. The smack on his ass was unexpected and stung like a bitch. He gasped and, dropping his arms, rubbed at the sore spot. Papa was back by Dad’s side before Demi could blink.
“Do not take that tone with your father. Apologize.”
Demi sniffled back sudden and embarrassing tears. That was another thing he’d been doing too much of lately—crying. That part of him was very human. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t doing any harm. I’m just bored.”
His dad’s expression softened. “Of course you are. Being cooped up inside is trying for anyone—and for a teenage boy, even more so.” He huffed out a breath. “That is why I’ve asked Papa to take you shopping.”
Demi’s tears dried in a split-second. He smiled. “Really?”
“Yes, go change into something more appropriate.”
“Yes, sir.” The sting of his ass forgotten, Demi hurried to comply, ridiculously happy to be able to leave the club, even if it meant shopping with the father who absolutely loathed the activity and had no sense of style. Any amount of strain was worth the chance to get outdoors.
He changed quickly and conservatively into True Religion skinny black jeans and his Tom Ford cashmere-silk turtleneck that his fathers had given him as a Christmas present. He wanted to look fly for his outing without giving Dad fits. He knew when to pick his battles. He slipped his phone and wallet into his back pockets and returned to the living room.
“All set.”
His dad gave him the once-over and nodded. “Very nice, Demi. I like that look better than the slutty clothes you wear when you’re with the other boys.”
Demi bit his tongue. He didn’t like his friends being dissed like that, especially when he believed his fathers cared about the boys who had entered their familiar orbit. Not to mention the fact that while it wasn’t something anyone had ever told him directly, he knew how his parents had met. His human father had been forced to whore at a hideously young age. The guy should be more sympathetic to how hard it had been for those boys before their lives with the Stelalux clan. Perhaps he was, but his determination to raise Demi properly made him harsh about the others.
“Here.” His dad approached with a jacket outstretched. “Put this on. It’s very cold outside.”
“I know. That’s why I wore this shirt. I’ll be fine.” God, he was hot already and couldn’t wait to leave.
“It’s not sufficiently warm for this time of year.” Dad shook the jacket at him in mute command. Not wanting a fight that could lead to his outing being canceled, Demi allowed him to help him put on the coat. “There now… Have fun.” With a quick kiss on Demi’s cheek, his dad stepped aside.
“You’ll want to go to Copley, I suppose,” his papa said with a forced cheer.
“Yes, please.” It was his favorite place to shop indoors.
“Very well. I’ve ordered a Lyft to pick us up outside the front of the club. We’ll be back in time for dinner, my dear.” He kissed Dad on the cheek with a formal stiffness that was met in kind.
As bad as Demi felt about that, he couldn’t afford to dwell on things he couldn’t control. So, he followed his father down to the first floor. The boys were still rehearsing and for a second, he wished he could rejoin them. But the lure of spending money on new clothes and maybe grabbing some frozen yogurt was too great. He simply waved at them as he passed and headed out on his father’s heels. The Lyft came within minutes and while it was cold, Demi couldn’t help removing the jacket before getting into the car.
His father eyed him. “You’re feeling particularly hot these days?”
Demi folded the jacket carefully in his lap before buckling up. “Yes. Why? Is that bad?”
“No. It’s normal.”
Demi wanted to ask why. With the human in front able to hear every word, he didn’t dare, of course, and his father was too circumspect to answer anyway. He resolved to remember to bring it up later when they were home again. In the meantime…shopping.
He hopped out of the car with an almost giddy lightness. It had been weeks since he’d seen the light of day and nothing was going to mar his enjoyment. His father slid out after him, thanking the driver. Too antsy to wait for even a few seconds, Demi took out his phone to keep his hands busy. He returned his attention to the car at the sound of his father clearing his throat. He stood in front of Demi with a look on his face like a condemned man trying to act brave.
That expression morphed in the next second, going from indulgent father to fierce warrior. His pupils turned red, and despite the fact that they were on a public sidewalk, his fangs gleamed past slightly parted lips. At the same moment, something hard poked into Demi’s side and a man—no, an alien—sidled up next to Papa.
“Be good, little hybrid,” a nasty voice whispered into Demi’s ear, while the hard thing poked him again. “That’s a gun.”
The guy next to Papa leaned in. “You understand, Horatiu, that the boy’s life will be forfeit before you can take a single step to save him.”
Papa’s eyes turned a deeper red, if that were possible. The way his chest heaved, it was obvious he struggled to contain himself. “What do you want, Petru?”
“You.”
Demi froze in fright and confusion. His mind couldn’t process how his lovely day had turned suddenly deadly. It had never occurred to him, either, that his alien father could be taken by surprise and outmaneuvered. He wouldn’t have been, if not for his useless hybrid kid giving Dracul’s goons leverage. There was nothing he could do to help except stand there and continue to be a liability.
Except…using his thumb, he opened his phone without looking at it. With his hand down by his side, it was obvious he carried it. They’d figure it out eventually, but in the meantime, he could do something useful. There was only one number in his favorites section. He pressed that app open, or hoped he did, then, using memory alone, pulled up the contact number. It surprised him how steady his hand was. He should have been shaking. His heartbeat was jackrabbit fast, yet the rest of him was weirdly calm.
Papa took a shuddering breath. “You have me. I will not make a fuss. Let the boy go.”
Petru chuckled and grinned. “Don’t be stupid. He’s our insurance.”
God. He’d heard of this guy, like, his entire life. He’d never imagined he’d be truly this creepy. Demi wanted to punch his face in. Knowing he stood no chance of succeeding, even without a gun against his side, he continued to do the one thing possible and hoped that he was texting Trey something halfway intelligible. If nothing else, the cop would realize something was wrong. It was a long-shot, but maybe he could at least alert the others and mount a rescue.
Yeah, right. As they stood there, a big SUV pulled up, driven by another one of their kind. Petru opened the door. He took Papa by the arm and shoved him in. The guy menacing Demi pushed him forward, as well, just as Demi hit send. His one glimmer of promise was hearing the tiny swoosh to tell him his message had been sent. He tried to stick the phone back into his pocket as he allowed himself to be muscled along. Petru saw him, however, and grabbed the phone from him.
“Uh-uh, bitch. There won’t be any need for that.” He tossed the thing on the ground before D
emi was rammed in beside Papa and squished between him and the goon with the gun.
His father wrapped him into his arms. “I’m sorry. I thought I could protect you.”
Demi had never heard such fear in his father’s tone before. “It’s okay.”
Petru turned from his seat up front as the SUV took off. “Touching. I’m sure I don’t have to explain the rules to either of you. Behave or I will let Kronid take him as his fuck toy.”
“As if he could handle me,” Demi sneered, fear making him idiotically suicidal, apparently.
“Demi!” His father held him tighter.
Petru laughed. “He’s got more fight in him than you ever had, Horatiu. Are you sure he’s yours or did our dear captain have at your slut? Or maybe it was Valeriu.” With another bark of laughter, he turned to stare out of the windshield.
The car sped on, weaving in and out of traffic and leading them Demi knew not where. Rather, he did. Eventually, they were going to Dracul. There was no other explanation. The why of it was the mystery, but even that would become clear in time. He shuddered at the thought and took comfort in his father’s embrace and the hope that Trey had gotten the message.
* * * *
Malcolm slapped his palm against the shower wall and leaned in. The steaming hot water beat down on his head while he worked his dick with a clenched fist and a whole lot of self-loathing. What is the matter with me? That was a useless question and one that he’d been asking himself for the entire night and well into morning. He’d lost count of the number of times he’d drained his balls since his encounter with Brenin in the observatory. Saying he’d emptied anything was inaccurate, as there continued to be an endless reservoir of cum and need.
He’d blamed the first urgent orgasm on the blood intake and the heady aroma of Brenin still permeating the room. The boy had barely shut the door before Malcolm had staggered to a chair and freed his hard cock from the confines of his smallclothes. Thank God he’d worn something and not let his nether bits hang free. With only the kilt on, his arousal would have been that much more noticeable. While he didn’t know for sure, he believed that Brenin had been aware of this situation anyway.
Star Dance Page 8
