I did this to him. Goddamn, he should have started using condoms. It was supposed to have taken years for Mackie’s transformation to finish, not mere months. Except Val knew better than to make assumptions. Everything about his life with Mackie had defied expectations. Maybe none of this had been predictable, but complacency was always a bad thing.
If he dies… No, Val couldn’t let himself think in those terms. Mackie was not Robbie, and this was the twenty-first century. Harry knew what he was doing, too. This time, it would be different. He had to believe that, otherwise he’d go mad. And with Dracul potentially still lurking out in the world, ready to pounce, Alex needed Val operating on all cylinders, not curled up in a terrified ball in the corner. He did, however, regret giving up smoking at Mackie’s request. If ever he needed a hit of nicotine, it was now.
Will had done a great job making the rounds at the club for him. That was, until Damien had come back from the family’s quarters. At that point, Will had done his usual puppy-eyed longing for a few seconds before excusing himself and heading in the exact opposite direction. Christ, what is the guy waiting for? Even Val, who barely knew the kid, could see that Damien was equally interested. And it wasn’t as if Annika needed her father’s constant attention and monitoring. She was practically growing right before their eyes. In the not too distant future, she’d be a fully mature, if inexperienced Queen.
Of course, maybe that was problem with Will making a play for Damien. The human spent so much time with them as it was that he wouldn’t miss how Annika was having the growing spurt to end all growing spurts when it finally happened. Val knew the guy was loyal to their family in general and Emil in particular, but could he be trusted with their secret? Val didn’t know. And it wasn’t really his problem anyway, except fuck, how long had it been since Will had been laid? Probably since his lover had died, and all that pent-up sexual frustration wasn’t good for their kind.
Val found Emil with Alex in Alex’s office. They were both watching something on the big flat screen on the wall.
“What’s doing?” he asked as he entered and joined them. “Oh fuck me,” he said when he saw the screen. “Is it election time again?”
“It is if you count an election that’s more than a year away,” Alex replied.
Emil tsked. “It gets longer and longer every cycle. It’s as if having found democracy, humans can’t resist exercising it endlessly.”
Val plopped onto the couch and made a rude noise. “Stupid humans. If they could only recognize the value of having queens.”
“They have from time to time,” Alex reminded him.
Val repeated the noise. “I mean intuitively recognize their natural leader—and for her to rule with selfless devotion to her people.”
“It’s not in their DNA,” Emil reminded him. “They’ve done very well to have evolved to this system.”
“And yet, they seem intent on fucking it up. Who is this asshat anyway?”
A bland man who was rather on the young side, with perfectly coiffed hair and an earnest look on his face, was droning on about forgotten morals or some such crap.
It was Alex who answered. “He’s one of the Massachusetts delegates to the House of Representatives. He’s just announced that he’s running for President.”
Val tipped his head back and folded his arms. “Well, I didn’t vote for him.”
“Ha ha, as if we can vote at all in this country. Quinn, on the other hand, is quite excited at the prospect of voting in the national elections for the first time. It’s adorable.”
“You think everything he does is adorable,” Val countered.
Alex shot him a sharp look. “As do you, when it comes to Mackie.”
“Huh! That’s not how I’d have described him this morning as he hugged the porcelain god.”
Emil landed a hand on his shoulder. “He’s going to be fine.”
“Indeed,” Alex intoned. “We shall make sure of it.”
Shit. He should have known he couldn’t hide his fear from his shipmates. They knew him too well. Val sighed and stared at his feet. “Yeah, I know. It’s just…”
“Robbie,” Emil said quietly.
Val nodded. “But more than that. What if that crap our kind manufactured and that human shithead doped Mackie with is still in his system? And what if it fucks with the whole pregnancy? Harry still can’t say if there was any lasting damage. And we’re got one eye out for you-know-who, and that keeps me up at night.”
“We understand your worries, Val,” Alex replied. “Rest assured we are here to help you both. We will all see Mackie through this event unscathed.”
“Thank you, sir. I’ll feel better when the others arrive.”
“It will only be three more—Christos, Antoniu and Claudiu. Tony and Claude are bringing their lovers and a hybrid each.”
Val raised his eyebrows. “They’ve been surprisingly busy.”
“Indeed.”
“And the others?” Even with many of Dracul’s men decimated, it didn’t pay for them to fight with less than a full complement.
Alex shook his head, a resigned look on his face. “A thousand years locked in a deadly fight has taken a toll. I can’t ask more of them than they are willing to give. It’s a miracle I’ve kept my authority this long. They want peace and quiet, and I can’t say I blame them.”
“I can.” Val was disgusted that they all weren’t coming when called. As far as he was concerned, they owed what lives they had on this miserable ball of dirt to Alex. Fighting for him one last time was a fair trade. He couldn’t say more, however, because the door opened and in came Damien, carrying a tray. “Hi, guys. I brought you lunch.”
Emil’s sous chef was getting to be as good as his boss. The meal he delivered smelled delicious, even before Val saw the pulled pork sandwiches.
“Thank you, Damien.” Alex flashed a smile. “Please put it on the coffee table. We’ll serve ourselves. This private service almost makes up for the tedious paperwork we need to catch up on.”
“Happy to do it, bossman.”
The man who would be President continued to blather on in the background. Val caught something about how the guy loved all his constituents and would serve them equally. But yes, in answer to someone’s question, he continued to hold the belief that the bible was the inerrant word of God, that marriage was the union of one man and one woman and that he hoped his LGBTQI brothers and sisters would see the light and come in from the destructive lifestyle that they’d chosen. Blah, blah, blah. Holy God indeed. Val hated the sanctimonious asshole.
Damien glanced at the screen. “Oh that guy. Man, what a cocksucker he is.”
“Yes,” Alex agreed. “He does seem to hold very disagreeable positions.”
Damien snorted. “Nah, I mean he’s a real cocksucker, in the literal sense of the word. When he’s not giving his stump speech next to his sweet, little wife, he likes to hang out in the skeeviest of gay bars and suck randos’ cocks. He’s on his knees so much that I’m surprised he doesn’t have holes in his pants.” He chuckled again. “Hypocrite.”
“I’ll say.” Emil shook his head. “I hope he’s caught out in his lies before his candidacy goes much further. You’ve had enough deceitful Presidents in this country.”
Val reached for a sandwich, only half-paying attention to what was going on. His mind kept wandering back to Mackie, worrying. He couldn’t help it. No matter what anyone said, he wasn’t going to rest easy until Mackie was safely delivered of their son—unless, of course, he carried a daughter. And wasn’t that an even scarier thought? The idea of raising even a worker daughter, let alone a queen, scared him shitless.
But then all thought of that possibility fled and he forgot the sandwich in his hand. Because as the cameras panned out to show the crowd of supporters and volunteers for the asshat’s campaign, a horribly familiar face came into focus. The guy was dressed in an expensive-looking suit, with carefully styled short hair and wrap-around sunglasses that hid his
eyes. Val knew him in an instant, regardless.
“Fuck!” He uttered the swear and rose out of his seat without caring that Damien was in the room. “Alex, it’s Bran.”
Alex and Emil both shot to their feet as well, their mouths moving with all kinds of profanity.
Damien looked back at the screen once more. “What? Is that someone you know?”
It was Alex who said it for all of them in his usual understated way. “Regrettably, yes.”
Chapter Three
“Here you go, Mackie, homemade chicken soup courtesy of Emil.” Damien placed the bed tray carefully across Mackie’s lap.
The guy was propped up against a mound of pillows in one corner of the large sectional sofa in the family’s living room. His boys—Quinn, Demi and Brenin—surrounded him, munching on more hearty food and watching crappy reality TV. They’d been at it since morning, when Val had carried his husband out of the bathroom and had placed him on the couch with tender care.
Damien could acknowledge to himself, if no one else, that he felt a sting of envy seeing how much this guy was loved. And, to his shame, that sting turned into a massively painful bite as he catered to these pampered boys who could afford to lie around when one of them was sick and laze the day away. Only Jase was working, as usual. That kid never quit.
He hated the sentiment and tried hard to both hide it and tamp it down. Every one of these boys, other than Demi, had lived as he himself once had—on the street, by his wits and sometimes using his body as currency. They were the extraordinarily lucky ones, having found love and protection. He had too, he had to acknowledge. Emil had given him a chance and the break of a lifetime by teaching him a valuable skill that he—bonus—absolutely loved. Yeah, he was one lucky son-of-a-bitch and he’d better remember that.
Mackie smiled. “Thanks, Damien. It smells delicious. I’m really fine, you know.” He pulled a face. “Val’s being super overprotective, as is his want.” He shrugged. “What’s a slave to do but obey?”
Damien didn’t get the BDSM thing. The club he worked in catered to that lifestyle for the ultra-rich, and at first, it had kind of wigged him out. Emil had made it clear that it was all about consent, so if any member made him uncomfortable, he should tell him right away. Damien didn’t doubt he was safe. The Stelalux men were walking wet dreams, if you spent your nights with visions of giants dancing in your head—which he did. That brought his mind back to thoughts of Will, something he’d managed to banish for oh, about five minutes.
He glanced around but Will was nowhere to be seen. He was probably with the other men down in the basement. That interview with Congressman I-love-you-but-you’re-defective on TV had caused quite a scene. He was used to the men being pretty chill and circumspect when he was around. The word ‘furtive’ came to mind, although he didn’t think they were doing anything illegal. They just closed ranks an awful lot. Yet, they’d let him see some genuine emotion this morning—and not in a good way. It had lasted only a few seconds before Alex had dismissed him with his usual calm and gentlemanly manner. Then Damien had spied them all trooping through the always-locked door that led to the bowels of the club’s building. The sight of it gave Damien’s imagination all kinds of fodder.
“Park your butt and join us, Damien,” Demi said around a mouthful of sandwich. “You are never going to believe what kind of dress this bride just picked out.” He made a gagging face.
“Thanks, but I have to get back to the kitchen. The Sunday brunch crowd is surprisingly large today and with Emil, um…otherwise occupied, I can’t leave poor Jase to deal with it on his own. The new help Emil hired are good and eager…but inexperienced. They need a lot of supervision.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot.”
Damien could swear tension entered the room, each boy going a little bit more on alert, as if they were worried about something bad happening. He couldn’t help poking at the situation. It seemed to him that the men confided in their boys.
“Yeah, everyone’s in the basement for some reason.” He chuckled. “Do they, like, have someone chained up down there?”
He’d meant it as an absurd suggestion, his overactive imagination stirring the pot. The tension rose, however, and every boy almost froze mid-bite, with a glass raised to his lips—or in Mackie’s case, a spoon. They looked everywhere except at him for a few long seconds.
Then Quinn said, “No, of course not!” He laughed, a forced sound. “That’s just silly. Harry has his lab there, and you know how our men like to hang with each other. It’s their version of watching reality TV. Right, guys?” Everyone nodded now and murmured in agreement. “We don’t take it personally when they want to get away from us.”
They still weren’t looking at Damien until Demi finally did. He gave him a tight smile. “Thanks for lunch, Damien. When there’s a lull in the food service, you and Jase should come and hang out.”
“Thanks, but I have to do dinner prep after that. I’ll tell Jase, though.”
Mackie frowned. “You work too hard, Damien. When was the last time you went home to get some sleep?”
He shrugged. “Work equals paycheck, you know? Money is what makes the world go ’round.” After a few years of having nothing, not even a home, he now had an apartment all to himself. It was small and in an old building in Chinatown, but it was his. He had enough clothing to go a week or more without doing laundry and he was never, ever hungry. Emil’s generosity with food meant his grocery bill was small. Alex’s employment benefits gave him health insurance, so he never had to worry about being sick and not getting the help he needed. Best of all, he had savings. His bank account had a nice, growing balance. Knowing that he had that to fall back on if something horrible happened allowed him to sleep at night.
There was no doubt about it. He was a lucky bastard. The only thing missing was a man who could rock his world in bed and love him, too. Except that wasn’t part of his immediate plans, and now he was back to thinking of Will. Jesus, that wasn’t going to earn him his wages.
“Have fun, guys. If you need anything, you know the kitchen’s extension.”
He left with the boys’ goodbyes ringing in his ears, which was nice, except he couldn’t shake the other thought that had been stuck in his head.
Just what the hell is going on in that basement?
* * * *
Val slammed Petru up against the wall, his hand around the guy’s throat. Will, Alex, Emil, Malcolm and even Harry stood outside the tiny cell. It wasn’t big enough for all of them to enter, and besides, they were rather superfluous. Really, they served as human exclamation points to Val’s admonition to Petru of ’Don’t fucking lie to me, asshole’.
To his credit, Dracul’s former lieutenant didn’t shit his pants, not that he was wearing any. The guy had the whole sangfroid routine down pat. He merely gazed at Val with a calm expression, his hands hanging by his sides, not making any effort to defend himself from the immovable force that pinned him to the wall.
“I can only repeat,” he said in that unctuous voice that had always driven Will crazy, like oil being poured into his ears, “that I have no idea what Dracul’s idiot pup is up to. If he’s ingratiated himself with some rising politician, it’s his own plan. Dracul had decided decades ago that whispering into world leader’s ears was a wasted strategy.
“He thought dictators and fascism were going out of style.” He huffed out a laugh. “More fool he. Humans are forever power-mad. They only pretend to evolve.”
Coming from someone who’d spent centuries trying to take over this planet, the observation was laughable. Not that anyone listening to him was…laughing, that is. Seeing Bran so openly participating in a presidential election gave them all a case of ‘holy fuck’. Mackie’s morning sickness had nothing on the way Will’s stomach churned with dread as to what the guy was planning. Obviously, he didn’t mind being found out, which was either a mark of extreme stupidity—and really, when dealing with Dracul’s sons, that couldn’t be ruled out—or a sig
n of confidence that he was untouchable by any of them.
Alex spoke. “You must know something about the little fuck that would prove useful. We know him only as a physical adversary.”
“Of course.” Petru gestured toward Val with a slight tip of his head in a silent request.
“Val,” Alex barked.
Ever-obedient to his captain, Val let go of Petru and took a half-step back, ready to re-engage in a moment of need. Will had to admire Petru’s balls. He didn’t appear the least bit intimidated. Will himself would never go against Alex’s right-hand man. Even with Mackie softening the edges, Val remained the most volatile of them all. Thank their previous Queen and her lucky stars that the man had chosen to be on the right side of things.
Petru cleared his throat almost delicately before speaking. “Both boys were constant sources of disappointment to Dracul, naturally. He tried to mold them into his own image, but half their genetics were of weak stock, so it didn’t quite take.”
Will pictured the wan Welshman Dafydd, who was becoming less like a ghost, thanks to the attention of his human lover. He figured anyone who’d survived centuries of Dracul’s torture could hardly be described as anything other than strong. He said nothing, however, knowing his place in the hive. His skills ran toward to the technical, like piloting and stealth. He could slip in and out of any location without detection, becoming one with the night, in particular. If need be, he could hold his own in a fight—and then some. Val was the front man this time and Emil was next on deck. Will hung silently back, listening to this totally useless information, being the punctation in the melodrama of Petru’s ramblings, as intended.
“Frankly, I always thought he underestimated Bran’s cunning,” Petru continued. “Cadoc was the flashier of the two, but Bran took in everything and squirreled it away for later use. I wouldn’t go so far as to say he was clever, but he’s certainly proved to be a survivor. I would have thought, though, that he’d slink away and live a quietly decadent life. I’m surprised he’s showing this much ambition.”
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