Val winced. “That is not an image I want in my head, thanks very much.” He sighed, a very un-Val-like sound that concerned Mackie. Val had more self-confidence than any creature on Earth. “If this were an ordinary hive, I wouldn’t exactly be lined up. I spent one time, when I’d matured, with the lesser queen who directly ruled my family—like Demi’s night with Duncan. It would be up to each queen, of course, whether she’d do a repeat with a particular drone or not, but all males would have at least that one experience. It’s one of the ways we keep hive cohesion.
“Jesus, though, I can’t begin to imagine that each of us will…” He swore. “With Annika?” He shook his head. “I guess I’ve spent too long living with humans. I can’t think of her as anything other than a little girl. A niece, for lack of a better word,” Val said. “No, I think those of us who landed here will have to forego that and leave it up to some of the hybrids to, as you say, ‘service’ her when she and they are grown.”
Mackie put his hand on his husband’s thigh, loving how the steel quality of his muscles reminded him of Val’s power. “I’m glad to hear that, because if you sleep with her—or anyone—I will cut off your balls.” He smiled sweetly into Val’s startled face.
His husband did what Mackie had hoped and chuckled. “Okay, baby, I consider myself warned, and frankly, I’m happy to have our marriage vows as a good excuse.” Leaning over, he kissed Mackie sweetly, carefully, pulling away far too soon. “I meant what I said at our wedding, ‘forsaking all others’. I’m your husband, Mackie. I’ll always be yours and take care of you.”
Mackie loved the certainty in Val’s tone. When he reached over to return the kiss, however, Val didn’t permit more than a brief peck. As Mackie considered how he might increase the passion level, Val spoke again. Apparently he was in an unusually talkative mood. Listening was an important role for a spouse, so Mackie reined in his desires and paid attention.
“Servicing a queen hasn’t been on my radar, but I am starting to wonder what the hell I’m going to be good for. With the others joining us and more on the way, we have plenty of muscle to run the club. I’m superfluous in the bouncer role these days.”
Mackie squeezed the fingers on the hand resting on his man’s thigh. “That’s nonsense. The club would fall apart without you.”
“Maybe.” He looked thoughtful. “I used to know my place better when there were endless human wars to join. I’m not sure this civilian life suits me. Bran isn’t making himself a very appealing target. Maybe he’s really into politics these days and not world domination.”
“What’s the chance of that, given who raised him?” Mackie asked, stating the obvious.
“Fair point. I can look forward to turning him into dust in the near future. It’s what I’m good at, after all.”
Mackie worried his lower lip. He didn’t like the way Val was second-guessing his worth. In the past when the guy had gone all moody, it had been simply a matter of scheduling a little play time. Nothing lifted both their spirits more than a good scene. Except that was off the table for the duration of this pregnancy. How was Val going to cope without the outlet?
Staying cooped up in their room wasn’t going to help. Mackie had only come up when his nausea had returned. “Let’s go downstairs.”
“Are you sure you’re feeling up to it?” When he nodded, Val scooped him into his arms without another word.
“I keep telling you that I don’t need to be carried,” Mackie admonished, although he was always thrilled to be in his husband’s arms.
“And I keep telling you that you don’t get a choice in this.”
“Fine, but when we get to the living room, I’m going to want to watch crappy TV, so you’d better make yourself scarce.” Val’s expression turned stony. “I’m serious. There’s no need for you to make yourself crazy waiting for me to get back on the vomitron.”
“I happen to like crappy TV, as you put it. And I love you, so this is really a waste of your breath.”
“Fine.” Mackie shut his mouth, knowing that arguing with Val was pointless.
Mackie needed to be more subtle in his efforts. Maybe Annika was already there. She usually was, playing with her adorable dog. He’d invite her to join them and let her pick what they watched. He was betting on Frozen. The little Queen really loved Elsa and could watch that movie ten times in a row without getting tired of it. He supposed the girl could really empathize with the isolated ice queen.
Mackie liked the movie too, although not quite so much. He identified with Olaf, naturally. He could suffer through a marathon for the rest of the afternoon. And it would likely mean that Will would eventually join them, because he rarely strayed from his daughter’s side for long. Then Will might crack under the strain of the endless Let it Go loop and ask Val to play pool or something. They could amuse themselves while still keeping an eye on Mackie and Annika.
Yeah, that was a plan—so long as Mackie could convince his stomach to go along with it.
* * * *
Val escaped to the roof of the club, something he hadn’t done in a long time—not since he’d given in to his heart’s desire and bound himself and his life to his play partner and brat, Mackie. From the moment Alex had relocated them to Boston, this had been his sanctuary. He loved hanging out here in the relative cool of the night, especially. Earth was too hot, always had been for their kind. Putting up with the sun during the day was a chore. Yet, staying inside in modern air conditioning had its limits as well. He liked fresh air, not that there was much to be had in any modern city. Fucking industrial revolution. Up here, he could stand in the relative peace, smoke a cigarette, drink some whiskey even. It was a rare respite from his club duties and the never-ending war with Dracul.
Except that right now there was no solace to be found. Dealing with Mackie’s pregnancy without showing his husband his own abject terror was grinding on his nerves. Keeping his emotions in check wasn’t his forte. Neither was standing around with his thumb up his ass, but that’s what it felt like he was doing. He had only one way to ease Mackie’s suffering and that effort was only a temporary reprieve at best. Plus, Val was the cause of it all. Guilt ate at him. And no matter what Mackie said, the boy had to blame him, as well, not that he so much as looked askance at Val while cycling through the vomiting, endless fatigue and desperate feedings. Normally Mackie wore his feelings on his sleeve. Right now, Val couldn’t get a read on him at all, other than a fierce determination to see this pregnancy through, no matter what.
Val strode to the edge and stared out at the skyline. It was hardly the prettiest view of the old city, but it suited him well enough. Christ, he wanted to light up, but he wouldn’t do that to Mackie. Not only had Val vowed to give up ‘the disgusting habit’, as Mackie called it, but he wasn’t going to risk causing a lingering smell on himself that might make Mackie feel even more sick. It was a stupid indulgence anyway, one that he’d adopted long ago to fit in better with his human comrades during times of war. Because his kind was immune to such troubles as cancer, it hadn’t hurt him to continue, even as humans had wised up and quit. It hadn’t been important enough to keep the habit in the face of Mackie’s dislike, however. As he stood there craving a hit of nicotine, it surprised him that he had become somewhat addicted to the stuff.
He paced to work off his nervous energy. It wasn’t helping, though. He felt as if he were going to jump out of his skin. Being so irritable and restless was also not going to help Mackie. So, without much thought, Val ran to the side of the roof and vaulted over the next building—and he didn’t stop there. This was familiar. It had been a while, but exploring Boston by its roof tops had been an activity he’d enjoyed many times in the past.
Playing with Mackie had taken up all of his free time recently, making this kind of nighttime goofing off something he’d put aside. He’d almost forgotten the exhilaration of giving his strength and speed full throttle. It was late and dark and he was up high. He could speed and leap past the streets an
d neighborhoods with little worry that he would be seen.
There was no plan inside his head, no path he chose. He simply improvised in the route he took, leaping over HVAC units and across yawning alleyways. The times the space between buildings was almost too wide were the most fun. It tested his muscles and eyesight to span the chasm without falling, not that he’d be hurt if he did. Like a cat, he knew how to land on his feet. The air was blessedly cool for the end of summer. He took in great lungfuls and poured on the speed.
He stopped at some point to catch his breath and stand on the ledge of an unknown building. His journey had mostly taken him in circles and he hadn’t strayed too far from the club’s neighborhood. He was not so jammed inside his own head to take undue risks. The tonier the areas of Boston, the more likely for very tall buildings to be where people lived. It wouldn’t take much for someone to look out of their window, even in the middle of the night, and see some weird-ass guy prancing across roofs. Yeah, Alex would really hate it if Val made the morning news or if video of him hit the Internet.
Street sounds reached his ears and male voices laughing in particular caught his attention. It was the pitch of them…something edgy and nasty. He’d heard it before in the club when members had had too much to drink and were having it on with someone. Normally he wouldn’t care, unless it involved teasing one of the boys. That was his job, to keep them safe from the excesses of men who thought they could do whatever they wanted. This was what the current situation sounded like to him. A few men were having a great time at someone else’s expense.
Val’s hackles went up in an instant, especially when he heard a sort of whimpering underneath. Leaning down the side of the roof, he saw a group of what appeared to be young men surrounding a pile of something. No, someone. As a guy moved aside, Val could clearly see now that an old man, a street dweller, was huddled against a wall, cringing from the taunting.
Val didn’t hesitate. He vaulted over the edge and dropped the four stories into the alley. One or two of the young toughs heard him and spun around. Their eyes went wide.
“Where the fuck did you come from?” one of them asked.
Val didn’t bother to answer. He merely walked slowly, sauntered almost, toward them. He wanted them all to get a good look at him as he approached.
“What the fuck, dude?” another one sneered. “We found him first. Whatever he’s got on him is ours.”
Rolling a drunk? How charming. It was clear now from the way the boys were dressed that they were not much better off than the old man. But they were young and fit and if they needed booze or cigarettes or a few coins for the same, then they were capable of working. In fact…
Grabbing his junk with one hand, Val said, “If you boys need some extra cash, drop to your knees and suck me off. I’m good for a few rounds, so you each stand to make some money. I’d certainly pay you the same amount as this poor guy might have on him.”
Their reactions were text-book perfect. One rushed him with his hands balled into fists. Val backhanded him with little effort, sending him careening into the wall. One of his friends was right behind him, although a hair smarter. He’d pulled out a switchblade as he made his attack. The knife caught the light from the streetlamp. Val smiled and let the guy get very close before turning sideways, grabbing his wrist and twisting. His would-be assailant howled as his bones snapped. Val flung him into the third and fourth tough, like bringing down tenpins.
He actually laughed, which caught him by surprise. It had been a while since he’d felt that kind of joy, and only really when he was with Mackie. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed a good fight, where right and wrong were clearly delineated.
Alas, it ended far too soon. The boys picked themselves up and scrambled like cartoon villains in their haste to get away. He could practically see the smoke rising from their fast-moving feet. They disappeared around the corner. He followed them to make sure they were really leaving, watching until they were no longer visible from the mouth of the alley.
He turned to the old man and reached out to help him up. The guy recoiled at first, then took Val’s offered hands and stood. He peered at him through his rheumy eyes. “Which branch?”
“Sorry?”
“Of the military…did you serve in?” the man clarified. He didn’t wait for an answer before turning away and picking up his stuff. His attackers had upset his grocery cart and apparently had pawed through his meager belongings.
“Oh, none.” That was technically not true but, really, he couldn’t name the human armed forces that Alex had seconded him to.
The man eyed him suspiciously. “Bullshit. I know professional training when I see it. I’m thinking special forces for sure. Green Beret maybe—or SEAL.”
Val grinned. “Afraid not. Are you okay? Did those assholes hurt you?”
“Nah. Punks.” The man spat on the ground. “As if I have anything to steal.” He repacked his possessions with great care and grabbed hold of the cart handle. “You know, most people would at least break both their legs dropping four stories like that.”
Oh shit! With the immediate thrill over, Val hadn’t thought through what his antics might mean to whoever saw him. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, sir. I came out of…” Oops, there weren’t any doors in this particular alley, so he just shut his mouth and tried to look innocent.
The old man chuckled. “That’s okay. You keep your secrets, kid. I’m grateful for the help. I was a marine once, but that was a long time ago. I can’t take on four punks the way I used to.”
“I have a military friend, an ex-marine,” Val said, thinking of Logan. And yes, somewhere along the way the woman had changed from one of Emil’s strays to a friend. She was certainly a comrade. “Her name’s Logan.”
The old man’s eyes narrowed then he grinned, displaying about five teeth in his whole mouth. “I might know her. I guess you’re all right. So long.” He pushed his cart toward the sidewalk.
“Be careful,” Val called out, knowing there was no way to do that when one lived on the streets.
Feeling surprisingly calm and centered for the first time in days, he ran and jumped up to a roof and began his journey back to Mackie.
Chapter Four
Will settled into one of the side chairs in the conference room. The space was much bigger than Alex’s office, and being in the family building, it was far from prying eyes and ears. It was relentlessly corporate, all leather and dark wood. A projection screen had descended from the ceiling at one end. The family members, minus the boys and Annika, had gathered around the rectangular table, as if a board meeting were about to start. There was even coffee and pastries, courtesy of Emil. The one anomaly was the veteran, Logan, the lone woman. She sat not in one of the comfy chairs that made your ass think it was on top of a cloud, but on the wide windowsill at the opposite end of the room. She had her knees tucked up under her chin and she watched everyone like a hawk.
Alex had asked her to come, so Will assumed she was expected to be of some help as they evaluated how to tackle the problem that was Bran. Will knew from experience that she was a fierce and trusted warrior. This situation seemed to call for more subtly than brute force. Again, what did he know? He remained committed to being the good soldier, following orders. He’d let someone else figure out the strategy.
“Val,” Alex said from where he sat near Logan at the head of the table, “please begin.”
A mosaic of pictures popped up on the screen. “Here’s what we have for images of Bran,” Val said. “They’re all tied to the asshat’s campaign. There are a few photoshopped pictures that Bran obviously used to lay a paper trail for himself. He’s created an interesting persona that uses enough truth about his life to make it all plausible. You have to dig really deep before you realize it’s an illusion.”
“How old is the oldest real image of him?” MacLerie asked.
“About a month after we struck the castle in Wales. He must have come over here directly and started h
atching his plan. And who knows what that was originally, but somehow—probably through Cadoc’s boy-whore enterprise—Bran latched on to Congressman Do-What-I-Say-Not-What-I-Do Asshat.”
“You think he’s using this politician’s gay activities to blackmail him into a job?” Harry asked. He was too mature to use Val’s nickname.
Val shrugged. “It’s our working theory.” He changed the onscreen image to show an aerial view of some large compound with a dominant multi-story building surrounded by a few smaller ones. “This is Hope Hills, a gay-conversion camp. I kid you not.”
From her perch, Logan made a rude noise. Val grinned. “Yeah, that.” He clicked onto the next slide, showing a website touting the benefits of attending the away-camp for young adults who wanted to rid themselves of their confused sexuality and find God’s grace again.
Will rolled his eyes and grabbed a donut covered in chocolate icing. “And why are we looking at this bullshit?” The light when on. “Oh, is the asshat involved with it?” He bit into half the pastry and had to hold back a moan. Emil had made a point of saying that Damien had made these. The boy was both sexy and talented. Will was so screwed.
Alex answered him. “Mr. and Mrs. Asshat are, actually. It’s their passion as well as their mission to help those poor lost souls who have been seduced by the ‘gay lifestyle’. Conversion therapy is illegal in Massachusetts for children, but this ‘camp’ is geared toward the newly emancipated.”
“Wow,” Will said around his mouthful. “This guy is balls-to-the-wall in his hypocrisy.”
“Yes,” Alex agreed. “You have to admire the level of his assholery, to some degree. And before you ask, the reason this camp is relevant is because it’s also tied to the campaign. They have a small office front on Boylston Street, but the real guts of the campaign are located here, apparently. It’s in Worcester County, his constituency, and the congressman and his wife have their primary residence right on the campus.”
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