“You’ve proven smarter than your brother,” Alex said. “Surrendering instead of fighting means you stand some chance of living.”
Bran’s face remained passive. He said nothing, merely stood there with his legs braced, staring at them all. With his sunglasses gone, he had that dead look that Damien had seen once. It sent a chill down his spine as it had the first time, despite the phalanx of equally scary fuckers on Damien’s side. Suddenly the idea of Annika getting anywhere near him seemed like a stupendously bad idea. Someone needed to get her the hell out of there. He took a half-step forward before he realized what he was doing.
Emil stopped him. “I promised Will I would keep you safe.”
“When?”
“When you weren’t listening. Plus, you also promised him moments ago.”
“I know, but I’m worried about Annika getting anywhere near that freak.”
“He won’t lay hands on her.” Emil’s tone brooked no disagreement. It was absolute, which served to alleviate Damien’s worry.
Alex moved to present a space for Annika to step forward. Will was right behind her. Damien could tell by the set of his shoulders how tense he was. Totally Defcon One stuff, and who could blame him. Queen or not, this was his little girl. Damien was a bit fuzzy on the how of it, but he knew she was a product of his relationship with his previous lover, Luuk. There were so many questions he needed to ask. Later.
Annika was fearless. With her back straight, she slowly approached the open cell. Each step was done with her usual, ethereal grace. How could Bran, the fucker, not drop to his knees and pledge his undying devotion to her? She must have been looking right at the prisoner, given the set of her head. If she was nervous, there was no indication of it. There was no visible tension anywhere in her body and her hands hung loosely by her sides.
Damien stood on his toes and leaned to the left to get a better view. Damn, his boyfriend was big, despite being the ‘runt’ of the alien litter. Boyfriend? Yeah, that fit, even if they had more than the usual amount of issues to deal with. He saw Bran showing some emotion finally, his eyes going wide. Then he pulled his leash to its limit with a single big step, coming up short from the confinement. He stared at Annika as she came almost within reach. Will’s hands on her shoulders stopped her.
No one said anything. It seemed as if they all barely breathed. Damien wasn’t sure exactly what they were waiting for, some acknowledgment by Bran that Annika was in charge. That’s all he knew. There’d been no time to ask for more specifics. He wondered how they could even trust that whatever Bran did was genuine, as opposed to a ruse. They must know what they’re doing.
It happened in the next instant. Bran slowly slid to his knees. “Is this what’s been missing my whole life?” His voice was softer than Damien would have thought. There was a lilt to it, much like Dafydd’s accent. He raised his hands in some kind of beseechment.
An almost imperceptible shift occurred in the room. Not quite relief, but there was a slight drop in the tension.
Annika took another step forward, Will sticking to her back. “You are welcome in the hive.” The girl’s voice was clear and calm. It even made Damien feel good.
A pounding caught everyone’s attention. “My Queen!” The guy in the first cell had his face pressed against the glass. It was almost comical. Damien couldn’t look at him, for fear he might burst out laughing. That was definitely not the thing to do at this pucker party.
And that’s when it happened. With everyone’s attention on that guy, Bran lunged, reaching his hands for Annika. There was more slack in his tether than had been apparent. Damien yelled out a warning and leaped forward. Will was already ahead of him. Grabbing Annika by the shoulders, Will tossed her to Damien. He caught the girl and staggered with her back into Emil’s waiting arms. He turned her away just as Will flew at Bran. Damien kept his head turned in Will’s direction, worried about him as much as he was about Annika. Will roared before sinking his fangs into Bran’s throat.
It was the spray of blood that forced Damien to close his eyes. He turned away and clasped Annika’s head, holding her tight against his chest, his hands over her ears so that she couldn’t hear as much of the horrible noises coming from behind him. There was nothing human about it, and he understood why Will hadn’t wanted him to come. And yet, he would not regret it, because in what must had been one of the worst moments of his life, Will had trusted Damien with the safety of his child.
“Get them out of here.” Will. His voice was like a rusty nail going down a chalkboard. It wasn’t human, which was the point of all this, of course.
Damien tried to turn to him, again, but Emil held him close, much as Damien had with Annika. MacLerie also stepped in behind him, blocking Damien’s view. He tried to break free and go to his man. How horrible he must be feeling. The men sandwiching him were immovable forces, though. He grunted in frustration.
“No,” Annika said, clutching his arm. “He doesn’t want us to see him like that.” Her voice was surprisingly calm, considering a madman had just tried to— God, he didn’t know what. Nothing good, that was for sure. Something fatal, almost certainly. Jesus, how was she not shaking? He fucking was.
Damien kept trying to break free, even as he was being herded out of the room. “Like what? See him how?” he clarified because Jesus, he wanted to be there for Will.
She brought their little scrum to a halt with no effort at all and stared up at him with her bright blue eyes. “A monster.”
Damien shook his head. “He’s not.”
“Of course, he isn’t. But you’re going to have to convince him of it.”
With that, they continued on their way, out the door and up the stairs. Music from the club blared and it all seemed so unbelievably normal, given the bizarreness of what had occurred in the basement. He felt schizophrenic, the duality of the life he’d been living—was going to keep living so long as Will didn’t get stuck too far up in his ass about their relationship—sending him off-kilter. An entire alien drama had been playing out around him for at least the last year while he had led a pedestrian human existence. He’d had no clue. Billions of people hadn’t. He’d gone down the rabbit hole now and nothing was ever going to be the same again. He was almost dizzy from it all. And the enormity of everything that had happened for the last week or so hit him like a freight train, making him reel even more.
He needed to do something to banish the horror of it, to ground him again. He would see Annika safely to her home, because that had been Will’s unspoken request, even knowing that Damien made a poor guard, compared to the others. Then he was going to do the one thing he knew would soothe his soul and remind him of who and what he was, at least until he could be with Will again. Because his life was about to change forever—and with his full, if not pants-shitting, approval.
He was going to give up a lot, such his relative innocence about what was really going on in his world. One thing, however, would never change for him. He knew what he was destined to do, what he was good at and someone had once said that an army couldn’t march on an empty stomach. He was a crappy fighter but an excellent cook. This was how he could contribute. He had seduced Will with his food long before entering his bed or by playing spy. At least, he thought he had. There was no one he dared ask about what their kind needed after wreaking whatever terrible vengeance Will was on Bran. He knew his man, though, what he liked.
The only question in his mind was whether to bake a cake or a pie.
* * * *
Will stood under the showerhead with the water temperature just this side of boiling. It was uncomfortable, but he needed to wash every trace of blood and gore off him, which naturally was nothing more than ash dusting his skin. It had left him within a minute under the spray. The water swirling around the drain ran clear. In his mind, however, he saw the ‘before’ pieces of Bran flying out of his mouth and spraying around the room. It coated his throat—or at least it felt as if it did—despite numerous passes of drink
ing and gargling. His body was as clean as it was going to get.
He needed more, to cleanse himself of the lingering stench that was Bran and what he’d dared to do. It was all emotional and symbolic now. He knew that. This extended foray into Harry’s lab-based shower was helping him get his shit back together. He couldn’t go see Annika or Damien until he’d reined in the monster and returned to being merely her father, his lover and a man who had only wanted to see the stars up close.
There was a knock on the opaque door. “How are you doing in there, Willem?”
Emil. Will wrenched the tap off and shoved the door open. Emil jumped out of the way as Will leaned out, dripping on the tile floor. “What’s wrong? Where are Annika and Damien?” Whatever calm he’d managed to achieve was swept aside by instant and, yes, irrational fear.
Emil put his hands palm up. “Whoa. Sorry, dude. I didn’t mean to frighten you. They’re both fine. Annika is out walking Babette with MacLerie, Brenin and Demi acting as chaperones slash guards. Not that there is any reason to suspect she’s at risk with Bran gone, but we figured you’d appreciate the extra security.”
“I do, thank you.” Putting his own kind aside, humans already posed a danger to his precious girl child.
Emil scratched his ear. “And Damien is baking in the family kitchen.”
Will’s lungs started working again. “Baking?” That was probably the least important fact that Emil had given him, yet it was the one that he latched on to. If Damien was making food, that either meant he was fine or so freaked out that he was desperate for a distraction. “What?” As if that mattered, but the word came out of his mouth anyway.
Emil shrugged. “I didn’t ask, but given the amount of flour flying around, it might be a wedding cake.”
Will snorted, which is probably what his friend intended. “Thanks for the update. Would you?” He gestured toward a rack of towels.”
Emil grabbed one and handed it over. “Here.” He stood watching Will dry off then said, “I think they’re both worried about you. At least, Damien is.”
“I’m fine,” Will said briskly.
“I didn’t say I was worried about you. It’s the boy you have to convince.”
“Yeah, I know.” He stopped and stared Emil in the eye. “On a scale of one to ten, how freaked out was he about what happened down here?”
Emil grimaced. “I’d be tempted to say it was an eleven, except that would be too much of a cliché.”
Will’s heart sank at the information. Shit, can I ever get Damien comfortable with me again? Everything had happened so fast, from learning about his true nature to seeing it in action. How much shock and awe could a human accept at this point?
“And before you start writing the obituary for your relationship, the freak-out was over concern for you, not about what you were doing.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Seriously. Will, Damien was fighting me and MacLerie to get back to you, not away.”
“That can’t be true.” He couldn’t believe it. There was only so much disappointment he could take in this unexpected life he was living.
Emil put up his hands again. “You don’t have to take my word for it. Ask Annika. She’s the one who convinced him that the best thing was for him to do what you’d trusted him to—getting her and himself out of there.”
Will opened his mouth to argue the point. Emil overrode him. “Better yet, ask Damien. You’ll see. That boy loves you, Will, and one thing I’ve learned loving and living with a human myself is that they are stronger than you think. They’re young and maybe appear frivolous and pleasure-seeking, but don’t underestimate them. When it matters most, they are loyal and formidable allies. Talk to him,” he emphasized before turning to leave.
“Oh, and I brought you clothes.” He pointed to a pile on the counter. “Harry burned your old ones.”
“And Bran?” Will couldn’t help but ask.
“Val used the industrial vacuum. He’s the Boston sewer system’s problem now.” Emil flashed a grin. “Take your time. Make sure that when you go to Damien, you’re in the proper frame of mind. Better yet, talk to him. Tell him how you feel. I find Jase really likes it when I do that. I bet Damien will appreciate you sharing your feelings with him, too.”
With that, he left. Will stood for long minutes, fighting the urge to get under the punishing spray again. Then he took Emil’s advice, dressed and went in search of the one thing, the one person, who could make him feel a whole lot better.
* * * *
In the end, Damien made both a pie and a cake. And he did it in the family kitchen, because when Will came looking for him—and he had to believe he would—Damien wanted a private space for them to speak freely about what had happened. He also worried that somehow he’d let slip something that he shouldn’t in front of the other club staff. Since learning the truth about the Stelalux family, he hadn’t been around anyone other than those in the know. He wasn’t sure he was ready to live this double life. Maybe the other boys could give him pointers. Quinn, Mackie and the rest of them seemed to move from one world to the next without effort. God, he’d been hanging with all of them in their personal living space, no less, for a while without realizing that something was up.
No, that wasn’t true. He’d known they were different. Their size alone had set them apart and their unusual eyes, even their sexuality. So many gay men in one family defied statistics. Their wealth and natural power had always made him worry, a little bit, that they were into illegal activities. He’d hated whenever those thoughts had entered his mind. It had seemed like a betrayal of everything good and kind that Emil, in particular, had done for him. His instincts had been right, although no amount of imagination would have led him to the truth.
There was so much he still didn’t know. As soon as Will arrived, he was going to sit him down, give him a big slice of pie, a bigger piece of cake and pick his alien brain. If they were going to make this thing between them work, Damien needed to know the score. What was expected of him? Should he kneel before Annika, kiss Alex’s ring? Did Alex even wear a ring? He hadn’t noticed. He thought he could do both those things, although they would rub his democratic soul wrong. Did he have to promise to obey Will, like Mackie had Val? He snorted. Nope, that was definitely not going to happen. Sure, he loved alpha males as much as the next boy but…
The big one, though. The super-humongous one was the hardest. “Do I have to let him suck my blood?”
“No. That is a choice you make, and I will never pressure you to do so.”
Damien jumped. He hadn’t heard Will approach. The guy was two feet away from him, wearing a different T-shirt and jeans from earlier in the day. His hair was wet, a testament to how he must have showered somewhere before returning home. Damien’s mind shied away from imagining what he’d had to wash off.
Putting down the knife and plate in his hand, he asked, “Are you okay?”
“That is what I intended to ask.” He jammed his hands into his front pockets and rocked back on his heels. “Matters downstairs ended rather badly, as I had feared. I didn’t want you to witness what you did, but I am glad you were able to take Annika in hand. It eased my mind.”
Damien didn’t hesitate. He went to him and wrapped his arms around Will’s waist. “I didn’t see much of anything, although I can imagine what you had to do. I’m sorry. It must have been horrible, your fear for your daughter, then the need to, um, do what you did.”
Will embraced him in a bear hug that squeezed the breath out of him for a few seconds. “It was upsetting, the part about Annika. I feel stupid at allowing myself to be distracted.” He kissed the top of Damien’s head. “Thank you for being more vigilant.”
Damien smiled against Will’s hard chest. “I didn’t do anything. You guys are mega-fast and totally on-point always.” He was pleased at the compliment, nevertheless. He wanted to feel useful. He wanted to be useful.
“We managed to miss that Bran had retained some slack in his
chain. And he was quite convincing in his acceptance of our Queen.” Will’s chest shook on a deep breath. “Who knew he was such a good actor. He must have inherited that from Dafydd. Dracul was never that effective at hiding his true intentions.”
“You were ready anyway.”
“I’d hoped to be wrong, but I went into that room knowing that I would kill him. It was my right, too, when he went for my child. Not even Val would have insisted on taking that privilege away from me.”
“It was terrible, though, right?”
“Not for me. Not entirely,” he amended. He pulled away in order to look Damien in the eye. “This is part of my nature, to do what is necessary without much regret.” He sighed. “Although, truth be told, I am not a natural warrior. I prefer flying.”
Damien chuckled. “You’re wonderful at that. Will you take me in your helicopter again some time?”
“Certainly. And in my plane.”
“Do you have a rocket, too?” he teased.
“Not anymore.”
“Huh?”
“I was a pilot for our ship. Please don’t take the crash as any indication of my skills.”
Beneath the joke, Damien saw insecurity, so he put his plan into action.
Releasing his hold, he backed up. “Sit.” He pointed to one of the stools across the counter. “I’ve been baking.”
“So I see.” Will dutifully did as Damien asked. “Chocolate cream pie and”—he sniffed—“lemon cake. My favorites.”
Damien winked. “I know.” He placed the generous portions in front of his man and watched as he scarfed it all down. It was a good thing his alien man’s diet wasn’t restricted to only blood.
“What’s it like?” When Will paused in his eating and glanced up, he explained, “Having my blood sucked? Would it…hurt?”
Will put his fork on his plate and grabbed his hand. “First, you must believe me when I say that I will never put you under any pressure to do that.”
Smoke Dance Page 20
