Star Dance

by Samantha Cayto

  Poor wee laddie, the last thing he needed was a reminder of his torture at Dracul’s hands. Another alien coveting him would be terrifying. Although, if he tried, Malcolm could imagine that the human hadn’t been afraid of him regardless. Hadn’t Brenin come closer a time or two instead of turning and running? Perhaps he thought he had to appease Malcolm. There was nowhere for the lad to go, after all. He was completely dependent on Malcolm, the same as he had been on Dracul.

  Thoughts of Brenin led to visions of him, which wasn’t helping matters at all. Malcolm grimaced and grunted as he worked his cock. He pumped the shaft with punishing strokes, while his hips snapped with fervor. He didn’t want to picture the human. He didn’t want to imagine that instead of his fingers, it was Brenin’s tight hole that he thrust into. The way the boy’s jeans had hugged his arse, it wasn’t hard to conjure up the delights waiting within. So small and high and tight… He could easily convince himself that he’d find a warm welcome there.

  Malcolm heaved and shuddered. He pictured the way Brenin had looked at him with his rosy lips parted in a slight smile, his brown eyes wide with wonder as he listened to Malcolm speak of galaxies. There had been compassion, as well, in his expression. The human should hate everything alien and yet he’d shown genuine concern over Malcolm’s sadness.

  What would he look like when in passion? Malcolm had had an almost overwhelming urge to find out. He’d wanted to sweep up the boy in his arms, strip him bare and bury himself inside him until those brown eyes closed and those lips parted on cries of pleasure. Against the wall, over a chair, in his bed… It didn’t matter where they would do it. All Malcolm wanted and needed was the boy to wrap his legs around Malcolm’s waist and allow him to ride them both to ecstasy.

  He gritted his teeth and groaned as his balls tightened and cum spurted out and over his fingers. The water washed away the evidence of his climax the moment it appeared. He curled his fingers against the tile wall and planted his feet more firmly to keep himself upright. With an ever-tighter grip, he milked his shaft until there was nothing left. There was a pain to it, like an overworked muscle, which he supposed it rather was. If he didn’t let up, the thing was going to fall off.

  That would be for the better. Now that he’d allowed his mind to picture what it could be like with Brenin, he wasn’t sure he could manage to lock those thoughts down again. He was afraid to see the boy for fear that something of what he was thinking and feeling would show through his gaze. God knew, he’d rather cut off his dick than scare the boy.

  The bathroom door opened and he abruptly let go of his aching dick and stood to face his visitor. He knew, naturally, who it was. Not only were the footfalls as familiar to him as his own, but only one person would dare to enter so. Shutting off the water, he shoved open the shower door and glared at his visitor.

  “This better be good, Darling.”

  His majordomo glanced down at Malcolm’s pesky and still semi-hard cock. “Indeed, sir, it is. I have no interest in voyeurism of any kind, yours in particular. You’ve had a difficult night, I imagine.”

  Malcolm frowned. “I’ll take that as a rhetorical question and a cheeky one at that.” Sudden alarm shot through him. “There’s naught wrong with the laddie, is there?”

  “Of course not, sir,” Darling replied with a sniff. “As if I would stand here bantering if Brenin were in distress. No, he’s happily eating his breakfast, as Cook went to the trouble of making laverbread.”

  Malcolm made a face. “Give me a proper haggis any day instead. I don’t understand the Welsh palate.”

  “Indeed, but she’s also starting in on some pannenkoeken, so I think you’ll be best-pleased.”

  That got his attention. “Och, Willem has arrived.” He shouldn’t have been surprised that the guy had made haste after Alex had recruited him. The pilot wasn’t one to dawdle once he’d made up his mind.

  “Yes, sir, and he’s brought a companion.”

  “Yeah?” Malcolm stepped out of the shower and grabbed a big towel. With Willem in residence, it would hopefully be easy to keep himself in check. On the other hand, now he couldn’t put off asking Brenin to leave for the States sooner rather than later. “He’s got another lover, does he?”

  Darling retreated toward the bathroom door. “Not exactly.”

  Malcolm paused while rubbing the water off his chest. “Don’t be inscrutable, Darling. You know it stretches my infinite patience.”

  “I’m sorry, sir. You are going to have to see this for yourself.” With that, the man turned tail.

  Malcolm stood fuming as he dried off, not liking surprises and half-mad with thoughts of Brenin…again. They’d roared back in the moment he didn’t have anyone or anything else demanding his attention. Well, Willem’s surprise would have to do. He stomped into his bedroom, and after throwing on his kilt and a T-shirt, he made for the door, stopped, grabbed the tightest pair of boxer-briefs he could find and raced down to the breakfast room.

  He heard giggling before he reached his destination. The sound was so unexpected, he stumbled to a halt and listened. There it was again, a high-pitched expression of joy that couldn’t have come from Brenin. Mystified, he continued, catching the unmistakable tenor of Willem’s voice. He was commenting on Brenin’s astounding bravery at eating the laverbread. And there now was the boy chuckling. Hearing it lightened Malcolm’s heart as he strode into the room.

  He stumbled again at the sight that greeted him. Willem was indeed there, sitting opposite Brenin. But it was the source of the original laughter that caught Malcolm by surprise. He was absolutely gobsmacked to see a little girl with white-blonde hair pulled back in two braids next to Willem. She was smiling and laughing through her mouthful of pannenkoeken. She seemed entirely comfortable in the unfamiliar surroundings and she was clearly at complete ease with Willem. She was waving her forkful of food within a hand-span of his plate while she focused on Brenin.

  “What’s all this then?” Malcolm asked, finding his feet again and approaching the table.

  Willem pushed his chair back. “Malcolm!” He intercepted him and gave him a thumping big hug. “It’s been too long.”

  “Aye, it has. Good of you to lend a hand.”

  “The respite couldn’t last forever,” Willem said, pulling away. “If we can end the fucker for good, then it’s worth the try.”

  “Agreed.” He smiled at Brenin. “Gud morning to you.”

  Brenin’s gaze dropped and there seemed to be a faint pinkness to his cheeks. “Good morning.”

  He wanted to stand there and stare at the boy to glean something of what he was thinking. Had he been remembering their time together the previous night? And what if he had? There was no reason to believe he thought of it fondly.

  Malcolm focused on the girl instead. She was staring back at him with a frank expression and no shyness at all. “And who is this?”

  Willem returned to his seat and put his hand on the girl’s shoulder. “This is Annika. She’s my daughter.”

  Malcolm didn’t bother to hide his surprise. “Is she now?”

  “Yes. That is to say, she’s my late lover’s daughter.”

  “I see.” Malcom made his way over to his seat at the head of the table. “Welcome to my home, Annika.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Malcolm. I’m very pleased to be here. Willem was ever so worried about leaving me back in the Netherlands while he helps you deal with that awful Dracul. And I wanted to stay with him, naturally. You see, I never knew my mama, but Papa promised me before he died that Willem would always take very good care of me.” She gave him a gap-toothed grin before stuffing more of the Dutch pancake into her wee mouth.

  Malcom shot a look at Willem before saying, “Oh, aye? You speak excellent English.” As if she’d been to the manor born, not a trace of an accent. “You know about Dracul, do you?”

  Darling came in at that moment and placed a plate loaded with everything needed for a good Welsh breakfast, minus the laverbread, but also includin
g the pannenkoeken. Then he poured coffee into Malcolm’s cup from the pot on the sideboard before disappearing back into the kitchen. Annika’s sharp blue eyes tracked the majordomo’s movements. She didn’t respond to Malcolm’s remarks until the four of them were alone again.

  “Willem says we must be careful about what we say in front of others,” she intoned. “Does Mr. Darling know?”

  “He does, but you’re right to be circumspect.”

  Annika nodded while she cut a piece of sausage. “That’s good. Willem said I’m to stay here while you all go Boston, so I want to be sure about what I say around those who will be taking care of me.”

  Brenin spoke up. “What’s that then?”

  Shooting Willem a stern look, Malcolm turned his attention to the boy. “Aye, we need to take a wee trip across the pond.”

  “Why?”

  Without pausing to consider the wisdom of it, Malcolm placed his hand on top of Brenin’s. “It’s all right. Nothing to fash yourself over. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to. My captain, Alex, thinks it’s best if we go to them and see what we can plan based on your knowledge of Dracul’s castle.”

  The good news was that Brenin didn’t seem to mind the touch. He didn’t jerk away or even try to move his hand at all. He merely gazed at Malcolm intently. “You think I can help you?”

  “Aye. You lived there for a wee while and you managed to escape, so you can maybe tell us things that I couldn’t determine from my outside observation. It would help to learn about their routine or if they spoke of plans in front of you.”

  Brenin shifted his gaze to his plate. “I didn’t hear much. There wasn’t a lot of, you know, talk with me.” He glanced meaningfully in Annika’s direction.

  Malcolm squeezed his hand in an effort at comfort. Again, Brenin didn’t shy away from the contact. “Aye, I know. It’s okay no matter what you have to say. Anything might help, and if nothing else, it will give you a chance to see a wee bit of America. A short holiday, if you like.”

  Brenin hunched his shoulders and shot him a brief smile. “That would be grand, except I don’t have a passport.”

  “Och now, Darling can handle that problem easily enough. Don’t worry.”

  “Really? He’s handy, then, is he?”

  “He is that.” With a reassuring pat, Malcolm made himself let go and picked up his fork instead of clutching at the lovely warmth of Brenin’s hand. “Maybe you can describe the route you took to get to the bolthole?”

  Brenin also started in on his plate again. “I can do better than that. I can draw it.”

  * * * *

  Trey hated how happy he was to be wrapping up a simple murder in which one hopped-up junkie had killed another over a quarter gram of meth. It was a sad and messy affair, but at least it was utterly human with no otherworldly components to keep him up at night. And it meant he could go home at a reasonable hour, maybe get takeout from his favorite Chinese restaurant and watch the Celtics game on TV.

  “Almost done with your report?” Karl asked from his desk.

  “Yeah. Not much to say. Pretty straightforward, just the way I like it.”

  “For a change,” his partner added, clearly thinking the same as Trey had been.

  His phone made its whooping sound for an incoming text. With one eye on the screen, he picked up the phone and glanced at it. He did a double-take. It was from Demi, and seeing that, his heartbeat skipped. He frowned as he tried to understand the message.

  Fracuk haa ud

  Trey blinked and was already rising from his chair as his brain made sense of the letters. “Karl!”

  “What’s up?”

  Trey didn’t bother to answer. Grabbing his coat, he opened his favorites app and pressed Alex’s number. And what did it say about him that he had an alien on the same list as his parents? He raced for the stairs, not wanting to waste time with the elevator. Karl pounded behind him. His breathing became labored as he listened to the rings with mounting agitation.

  “Come on, come on, pick up.”

  “Trey, what’s wrong?” Karl asked.

  “Sergeant, how can I help you?” Alex’s calm, measured voice did nothing to alleviate Trey’s worry.

  “Where’s Demi?” he demanded as he hit the door leading to the garage.

  There was a pause. “I couldn’t say. Why?”

  “He just texted me. I think he’s in trouble. It was jumbled but I think he was saying ‘Dracul has us’. Who’s us? Is he out with one of the other boys?”

  “Not Quinn, he’s right here. And Harry wouldn’t let him go out without acting as his escort, regardless.”

  “Then the asshole has both of them. If we hurry, we can maybe find them. Save them.” He was close to babbling and he dropped his key fob when he tried to take it out of his pocket.

  “I’ve got it and I’ll drive,” Karl said, scooping up the fob and unlocking the car.

  Too grateful for the help, Trey didn’t hesitate to get in on the passenger’s side. He put the phone on speaker while he buckled up. “Alex, are you still there?”

  “Of course. I’m on my way to Harry’s suite and Quinn’s texting the others to see what they know.”

  Trey took a deep breath to rein in his mounting panic. “Find out where they were headed. Karl and I are leaving the station right now. We’re coming to the club, but if you can get another location, we’ll change course.”

  He jiggled his leg and worked to get his breathing in check. As fast as the aliens were, it felt like Alex was meandering to his destination. Please let this be a sick joke. He wanted to learn that a bored and bratty Demi was doing this only to get attention and force Trey to come for a visit.

  “I’m here and putting you on speaker. Lucien, where is Demi?”

  “Shopping with Harry. Why?”

  The alien doctor’s human husband didn’t even try to hide his sudden worry. Trey could hear it in his voice. And the ‘why’ was the buzzword of the moment. Alex answered based on what Trey had told him.

  “They went to Copley Place less than an hour ago.”

  “Karl.”

  “On it.” The guy didn’t hesitate to put on lights and sirens and banged a Uee sharp enough that Trey had to hold on to the grab handle.

  More voices came over the connection, Quinn, Val, Mackie, Emil and Jase. Trey had no trouble distinguishing them and every single one was already at Defcon One level, testament that this wasn’t some joke. Trey’s stomach lurched and he had to swallow back the nausea climbing up his esophagus.

  Trey forced himself to stay calm. He was a fucking cop, for God’s sake. He knew how to keep it together. Raising his voice to cut through the chatter, he asked, “What entrance would they use?”

  “Stuart Street,” Lucien replied with enviable calm. “Demi loves Nieman-Marcus.” Now, the man’s voice shook.

  Trey looked at his partner. “Karl.”

  “I heard.” The man’s expression was stony. His wheel skills were also unparalleled, however, and within minutes, he pulled up to the curb in front of Demi’s favorite store.

  Trey didn’t wait for the car to come to a complete halt before he was out and scanning the area. The wind whipped open his coat. He barely remembered putting the thing on and ignored the bite of cold hitting him. Not many people were out and about. Those that were stopped and stared at him. He wanted to grab each and every one and ask if they’d seen a tall, dark-haired boy being… What? Forced into a vehicle of some sort, no doubt.

  He didn’t bother, though, because his attention was taken almost at once by a phone lying on the street against the curb. Two steps and he was picking it up. With an unsteady hand, he disconnected the call to the club and called Demi with his own phone. He watched with a sinking feeling in the pit of his roiling stomach as the other phone lit up.

  Sergeant Hottie

  Trey silenced both phones and closed his eyes. He took in deep, stinging breaths of cold air through his nose, trying to keep his shit together, when all h
e wanted to do was roar out his rage and frustration. That wasn’t going to help Demi, though, nor was there any point in denying further that the boy meant something to him. Despite all efforts to the contrary, Demi had gotten under his skin.

  Now the alien war had taken on a new meaning. It had become personal.

  Chapter Six

  Brenin tried not to be unnerved by Malcolm’s proximity. It was hard. The guy was a looming presence, even when he was on the other side of the room. With him standing right behind Brenin’s chair, he was impossible to ignore. Every fiber of Brenin’s body was homed in on the sound, the smell, the vibrancy of the alien. It didn’t make Brenin afraid and that was the part of all of this that was most disturbing. In the span of a few days, he’d not only become used to being around Malcolm, he’d started to welcome it.

  What’s wrong with me, for Christ’s sake?

  After everything he’d been through, he should loathe the very sight of anyone that reminded him of the monster. He should have run from this castle the moment his injuries had started to heal and his pain had abated. Doc McPhee had offered him a ride into the village, even as she’d reassured him that he was safe with Malcolm. He told himself it was a matter of money, in that he had none, and at least here he had plenty to eat, comfortable clothing and a room of his own. He wasn’t buying his own bullshit, however.

  The simple truth was that he felt safer with Malcolm than he had anywhere else. He felt a disconcerting tug toward him, as well. He’d spent the night dreaming of being in the tower room with the alien, and it hadn’t been a nightmare, either. No, his time there had ended differently in his visions. That burgeoning arousal underneath the man’s kilt had turned into an overpowering fuck on the floor as Brenin gazed up into the starry night sky. He’d awoken sweaty, tangled in his sheets and sporting his own hard-on.