Final Dance: Part One (Alien Blood Wars Book 8) Read online

  Annika clapped her hands as Idris tossed the ball way over her head. “That’s very good, Idris. You are getting strong.” The dog scampered after it and sank its teeth into the cloth.

  The kid giggled, with drool running out of the corner of his mouth, and clapped his hands in response. “Strong!”

  “That’s right. Matti. Get the ball away from Babette before she tears it. Be firm with her now.” Annika folded her hands in her lap. Her legs were tucked to one side, stretching the soft green fabric of her long skirt. She was always dressed like one of those princess characters in the movies she adored. The look suited her. Sometimes her beauty made it hard for Merlin to breathe.

  Matti popped to his feet and hurried to do her bidding. Of course he did. He and Yaro seemed as devoted to her as Merlin was. It should have made him mad, he thought, that her attention was taken from him to shine upon others. It didn’t. Somehow, it felt right that there were a few of them orbiting her every day. Besides, when she snuck into the basement to see Petru, she always brought him and neither of the others. It made him proud that she trusted him with the secret that she was keeping, even from her father.

  Matti hurried back with the ball—which, Merlin had to admit, Idris had managed to fling pretty far. Before they resumed their game, however, a soft knocking on the door interrupted them.

  “Enter,” Annika called out.

  The door opened to reveal the pathetically weak human who’d brought Merlin into this world. It was hard not to sneer at the stupid thing that shuffled in with his eyes cast downward and hair obscuring his face. Alun carried a tray filled with cups and a plate piled with cookies. The scent of chocolate and sugar preceded him and made Merlin’s mouth water. He might be worthless in all other ways, but this human was good in the kitchen.

  Annika smiled brightly. “Oh, how thoughtful, Mr. Alun. I’m sure we could all do with some hot cocoa and sweets. You are very kind.”

  “It is my pleasure.”

  The soft, timid voice made Merlin grit his teeth. How was he supposed to respect someone such as that? His sire had always showed his human slut contempt, and Merlin saw no reason to question that. Except…

  “We are all very grateful,” Annika said as the guy set his tray on a side table.

  Matti and Yaro immediately voiced their appreciation. After a moment’s hesitation, Merlin joined in. “Yes, thank you…Father,” he added without having to be prompted by the Queen. She’d been quite firm on that point already. He must treat this human with respect, even if he couldn’t find any love in his heart for the man.

  Love. That wasn’t an emotion he was sure he could feel. There had been none back in Dracul’s castle. The males had treated their human slaves and sons as useful tools of different sorts. There had been no tenderness, nor could he remember wanting any. Maybe he had once as a baby. If so, the memory was lost to him, beaten out of him. No show of kindness or weakness had been tolerated. Merlin still wasn’t sure he faulted his sire for that upbringing, although everyone here, even the badass Val, was open about their softer emotions. But they were scary-strong at the same time. Maybe it was okay to feel love, and if so, he thought perhaps he loved Annika. He knew no other word to describe the terrible, yet wonderful, effect she had on him.

  Merlin and the older boys waited until Annika had risen, taking Idris by the hand, before doing the same. Alun served her the first steaming cup, along with a sugar cookie coated in icing and a napkin. She let go of Idris to take the offering with a gracious smile and went to sit on the nearby couch. Idris toddled after and climbed up beside her. She broke off half the cookie and handed it to him.

  Merlin let the others go next, hanging back to be the last, because interacting with his father made him uncomfortable. He didn’t want to experience his reaction in front of anyone. It was impossible to look the man in the eye, not that Alun’s gaze was anywhere other than downcast. Centuries of being slapped for doing differently wasn’t going to be changed in only a few months. It served Merlin’s interest well. He took his mug and two cookies and hurried over to a vacant chair.

  To his dismay, Alun didn’t leave. Instead, he removed the last mug from the tray and joined Annika and Idris on the couch. He sat on the other side of the toddler and, using one arm, moved him over to his lap with surprising ease. Then he helped Idris drink his cocoa by holding the mug to his small lips. Idris grabbed it with both hands, yet Alun’s grip never wavered. As he watched the scene, Merlin found himself wondering if that had ever been him. Had he sat on his father’s lap while being given food or drink? As he chewed on one cookie, he cast his mind back and found no memory of such.

  All he could remember were communal meals in which the men were served at tables while the hybrids fought over platters of lesser quality food in a corner. He’d never seen his father and the other humans eat, although he supposed they must have. The customs were different here, with everyone sitting together and eating the same thing. He wasn’t sure which he preferred, given how he expected to join the warriors at some point, gaining his own power. What future did he have now? He didn’t know. Worse, he wasn’t sure what he wanted.

  Annika smiled at him over the rim of her mug. The look cast a warmth in his chest that the hot drink couldn’t match. It reminded him that he didn’t have to worry about that. His Queen would show him the way.

  * * * *

  “This is moronic.”

  From where he sat on the hallway floor, Christos flicked his gaze to Willem. “How so?”

  “Seriously?” The man shifted the tray he held to one hand before gesturing around them with the other. “You’re hanging out in this wasteland of tasteful décor as if some ravening horde is going the breach the room unless you’re here to stop it.”

  “Given the type of men who belong to this club, that’s not an unrealistic concern.”

  Will shook his head. “As if Alex would allow that. Val has already hung signs that this floor is off limits to club members for the foreseeable future. Your boy is safe from unwanted attention.”

  “He’s not my boy.”

  Will snorted. “You are fooling no one.”

  Christos let his head fall against the wall. He really missed the quiet and comfort of his mountain home. “I simply state the truth. He is not mine. That is not to say I don’t want him to be,” he added before his shipmate could jump in, “at least for a little while.” The release of sex with someone other than his own hand would be welcomed. He wasn’t looking for a greater entanglement, and he was glad that the boy sleeping in the room behind him wasn’t interested in that, either.

  “You don’t have to play nursemaid to a human to find that kind of pleasure. There’s more than a few downstairs who’d be very willing.” He paused before adding, “Why did you bring him here?”

  That question had already been asked with the kind of fury wrapped in idle curiosity that only Alex could deliver with his clipped words and mild stare. Christos gave the same answer as before. “I have no idea. At the time, it seemed the right thing to do.”

  That was a lie of sorts. It had been imperative that Christos bring the boy somewhere within his control, where he’d have access to the fetching human with the outrageous mouth. The things he said made Christos want to laugh, which was a terrifying effect. He didn’t do humor—not since the crash. Nothing about his situation in the last thousand years had been remotely amusing. It was disconcerting, to say the least, to fight to keep his normally passive demeanor. This boy was dangerous. He should have left him somewhere far away. Instead, only one relatively thin wall stood between them.

  Willem snorted. “I’m hardly one to cast stones. I knew the moment I laid eyes on Damien that I wanted him. No amount of rational thinking dissuaded me.” He shrugged. “It has turned out great for us. You might have the same good fortune.”

  The observation disturbed him, so he chose to ignore it. Surging to his feet, he held out his hands. “Give me that. I assume it’s for the boy.”

&nb
sp; Will did as he’d been asked. “Yes, Damien is busy with feeding the members and asked me to bring it. Plus, the kid’s next dose of both medicines is here. Harry says it doesn’t matter whether he has a full stomach or takes the pill and the cough syrup then eats.”

  Christos frowned at what the tray contained. “This isn’t much food.”

  “It is for a human who weighs less than one of my legs.”

  Christos merely grunted, not convinced. Ah well, if the boy was still hungry after consuming this, he could get more. He immediately did a mental facepalm. This really was rather ridiculous, and yet there was no helping it. It was his decisions that had put the entire family in this position, therefore it was his responsibility to handle the details.

  “Thank you for bringing it. Next time, text me and I will come to the kitchen. There is no reason for you to put yourself out.”

  Willem shrugged. “It wasn’t a bother, and I did it to help Damien, in any event. It’s not like there’s something more pressing to do, either. With all of us wandering around waiting for…you know what, I’m getting a little stir-crazy.”

  “As am I. Something must happen soon—or perhaps driving us insane from boredom has been the plan all along.”

  “It’s certainly torturous. Good luck in there,” Will added before leaving.

  Christos stood in front of the bedroom door for a few seconds, debating whether he should knock. On one hand, he didn’t want to wake the boy if he was still sleeping. On the other hand, he didn’t want to scare the shit out of him by walking in unannounced. In the end, he took the chance of the latter by entering without knocking and making as little noise as he could.

  He needn’t have bothered. Through the darkened room, he could see the human turning in his direction. “You’re awake.” A stupid observation, but stupidity was apparently his new watchword.

  “Mm-m.” Whatever the boy might have said was drowned by a fit of coughing.

  Christos hit the dimmer switch to bring the overhead light on to a soft glow. “I have your medicine.”

  It took effort to slow his movements when all he wanted to do was race to the boy’s side and pour relief down his throat. As it was, he made the tray’s contents rattle with his speed. He put everything on the nightstand and found himself holding the human’s shoulders as the deep, hacking cough shook his whole body. When it was finally over, he helped him sit against a mound of pillows. A heat unnaturally high, even for this species, radiated through his clothing.

  “Here.” He held the cough syrup already measured out in a cup to the boy’s lips and helped him drink it. Then he did the same with the glass of water.

  “Thanks.” The boy slumped against the pillows. “I was feeling better when I fell asleep earlier. Now, I’m crappy again.”

  “Your kind sicken easily and recover slowly.”

  The boy gave him the side-eye. “My kind?”

  Christos nearly kicked himself. His loose lips, as usual, required clean-up. Plus, living either alone or among those with full knowledge of his nature had made him sloppier and more complacent than he’d ever been. He mustn’t forget that this human was ignorant of his origins. “I meant no offense. It is merely that you live on the streets. That is hardly conducive to good health and a speedy recovery.”

  The boy grimaced. “Tell me about it. Is that my dinner?”

  Christos was happy to have a change of topic. “Yes.” He removed the metal lid to a bowl of creamy tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich. “That seems inadequate for the evening meal.”

  “Are you kidding? That’s like one of my favorite things.” The boy made an abortive move to grab the bowl, but his arm shook badly enough that he had to drop it. “Fuck, I’m so weak.”

  “No matter… I will feed you.”

  The idea struck him as absurd. He had no skill at serving anything to anyone unless delivering double pops to the head of an enemy counted as such. Somehow, he doubted it. Nevertheless, this was his mess to manage, as Alex had made clear. And truly he didn’t mind, so long as he didn’t dump the hot soup in the sick boy’s lap.

  Taking the bowl and spoon in hand, he considered how to achieve his mission. There really was no hope for it. The only way was to sit on the side of the bed. The human helped by scooting closer to the middle, and still, their hips and thighs collided when Christos parked his ass on the narrow strip of mattress afforded him. The boy didn’t seem to mind. He batted his eyelashes while quietly waiting for the feeding to begin.

  And wasn’t that the worst word to think? His gaze homed in on the quick pulse at the base of the human’s neck. This close, Christos could hear the rushing of the blood through the artery. He could smell it, too, which was just as well, given that the sickness invading this small body gave it a slightly bitter odor. It reminded him that regular human food was the only thing on the menu.

  He started to dip the spoon into the soup then remembered the napkin. Grabbing it from the tray, he flicked it open and laid it onto the boy’s chest. The first effort was the hardest, with a bit of a colliding and some spillage. But they found a rhythm and soon it got easier, if no less awkward. At least, that was how he felt. It was hard to say what the human thought of all this. He was hungry. That much was clear. He eagerly slurped every mouthful that was offered. Once about half the bowl was gone, Christos switched over to the sandwich. That took less effort and arguably the boy could do this part himself. Regardless, Christos didn’t make the suggestion and neither did his patient.

  There were no words spoken while he carefully fed the boy, alternating between soup and sandwich, with the occasional sip of water whenever coughing started. The whole effort was practically clinical, and yet Christos was aware of every breath the boy took, the twitches of his fingers, the fluttering of his lashes. Where their bodies touched, it was as if fire pressed through the bedding to lick at him. His cock had long become painfully hard and his fangs itched to descend.

  This is bad. Very, very bad. You imbecile.

  The boy saved them both by slumping against the pillows with a sigh. “Thanks. I think I’ve had enough.”

  “You haven’t finished.” Like it was any of his business.

  The boy smiled in a way that didn’t reach is eyes. “Thanks, but I’m not feeling great and don’t think I can handle any more.”

  “Of course.” This was his opportunity to escape the sweet torture of being next to what he wanted but couldn’t have. Instead, he stayed sitting on the bed as if his ass had been glued there and he grabbed the antibiotic. He held it out, along with a glass of water. “Can you take this on your own?”

  “Sure.” Their fingers touched with the transfer of the pill. There was more fire with a spark chaser. Christos pulled his hand away at the same time as he passed over the glass of water for a repeat performance.

  Thankfully, the boy put the glass back on the nightstand himself when he was finished. Of course, that meant he had to lean over and he rubbed against Christos’ thigh. That additional contact gave his dick the false signal that things were getting more interesting. Naturally, they weren’t, and a smarter person would have stood to take the tray out of the room. And again, he proved he was a barking moron, as Malcolm would say, by staying right where he was.

  “Thank you…for everything,” his guest said in a low tone.

  “Gratitude is unnecessary,” he replied with more gruffness than he’d intended. He looked anywhere other than the boy. That way led to madness.

  “If you say so. There must be something you want, though, right?” The boy slid his hand over to Christos’ thigh. The touch was like a brand.

  “No!” He grabbed that hand with a firm grip and placed it back on the bed. The offer had the positive effect of getting him off that damn thing. He rocketed to his feet, struggling to get his breath under control. For some reason, he was puffing like a locomotive.

  “I’m, ah, sorry if I upset you.” The boy’s voice sounded small. Christos couldn’t help looking at him. Wid
e eyes stared back. “You want me. I can see that.”

  Ah yes. His dumb cock was on full display now. “It is of no importance. I am hardly going to impose myself on someone as ill as you are.”

  The boy lifted one shoulder. “I won’t be sick forever.”

  Christos ran the fingers of one hand through his hair, dislodging the tail he’d forgotten he wore. “Were you not listening to Damien this afternoon?”

  “He’s sweet and kind of naïve, despite having lived on the streets himself. I know how the real world works.”

  “That may be, but you don’t know how I work. Now, although there is nothing I want from you, is there anything else you need from me?”

  The human lowered his gaze, twisting his bedding in his hands. “I guess not, except…is there a remote for the TV?”

  Christos nearly leaped at the chance to do something that didn’t tempt him more than he already was. “Of course.” He retrieved it and practically tossed it onto the boy’s lap.

  “Thanks.” The human didn’t turn on the television right away, however. He kept staring downward. “There’s one more thing, if you don’t mind.”

  “Certainly.” He crossed his arms and waited.

  “Could you maybe stay with me? I’m sort of…I don’t know, scared I guess, to be alone. This is a strange place and it’s really quiet. I’m not used to…” That was when he raised his eyes to Christos. The look of vulnerability shining through was his undoing.

  “If that is what you wish.” He couldn’t believe he was saying it. He should take the tray and go back to his post in the hall. It was as if someone else had control of his tongue and the rest of his body. Instead of doing any of that, he moved to go sit on a chair in the corner.