Chapter Ten

“Darling, I’m home. Did you miss me?”

“With every breath I took, sir,” the prim and proper butler-type intoned.

Christ Jesus, it’s like I’m in some Masterpiece Theater program. Trey was too under-slept and overwrought to find much humor in anything, however. And whereas the old castle nestled in the faraway hills of Scotland would normally have intrigued him, at the moment it just represented one more thing to hold them up. He wanted to get going, find Demi, kill as many fuckers as he could and go home.

“This is amazing.” Paz uttered the remark as he spun around the foyer, taking in everything around him. “That’s an actual suit of armor.” He pointed to one corner.

Yup, lots of nifty keen things. But there was only one Trey was interested in seeing. “Where’s your armament room, MacLerie?”

Before the guy could answer, a pretty blonde-haired girl skipped in and over to Willem. “You’re back!” She launched herself into his arms and he brought her up for a hug.

Alex, Val and Emil went suddenly still, shooting looks at one another. Whatever was going on, their surprise was both obvious and intriguing. Or it would have been if Trey’s mind wasn’t totally focused on rescuing Demi.

Willem, the most sedate of any of the aliens Trey had ever met, set the girl on her feet before saying, “This is Annika. She’s my adopted daughter.”

“Indeed,” Alex responded. “We are pleased to meet you, I’m sure. I am Alex,” he added as he perused her with a narrow-eyed gaze.

The girl’s face lit up. “Oh, captain. It’s an honor, sir.” Then she opened her mouth wide and let out a multi-toned screech that made Trey’s ears practically bleed.

Every human winced, in fact, and started to put up their hands before the sound ceased. Then there was silence until Annika looked back at Willem.

“Did I say that correctly?”

Willem didn’t appear too happy with the matter, but he gave her a curt nod and a brief smile. “Yes, that was very well done.”

Trey was about to ask by what standards, before he flashed on the obvious. That is their language, the aliens’ native tongue. Like cats fighting, someone had once remarked, and that wasn’t off base. How had that horrible sound come out of a human child? Not even Demi spoke it, at least not to Trey’s knowledge. Then again, what did he really know about the boy, other than he was a pain in Trey’s rear that had ended up lodged under his skin.

“Willem, I think you and I need to have a little chat,” Alex said.

“Agreed, sir, although later, please—when there’s more time and less anxiety over Harry and Demi.”

“Hmm,” Alex seemed to agree.

“I’m very sorry, captain, if I’ve caused you any alarm.” The girl walked all the way up to Alex. “I assure you your secrets are safe with me. My papa loved Willem and so do I. Before he died, Papa made me promise to take good care of Willem. And that’s what I do,” she added with a firm nod.

“Of that, I have no doubt,” Alex answered with equal solemnity and not a trace of irony or indulgence. “We do have serious business to attend to now, however. I’m sure you’ll understand when I ask that you not distract him and stay safely with Malcolm’s staff.”

“Yes, sir.” With that, she gave Willem another hug.

Before she left, however, Lucien stepped out from the back of the crowd. The guy had been eerily quiet the whole trip. “Annika, I am Lucien. Would you please take me to the kitchen? I should like to make myself useful.”

Holding out her hand, she said, “Of course, Mr. Lucien. I should be happy to.” Lucien accepted the help and allowed her to lead him back the way she’d come.

“What an odd child,” Paz whispered.

“Yeah,” Trey agreed, which was saying something, because his bar for weird was really high these days.

But at least they wasted no more time. With little fanfare, they split up. Brenin led the boys in one direction while the men and Logan followed Malcolm down a hallway. He took them to a room in what centuries ago must have been part of a dungeon. It was about a half a football field in length and loaded with so much weaponry of such varying types that Trey was momentarily stunned.

“Fucking A,” Logan spoke for the first time in hours. “Now, this is what I’m talking about. Anything off limits?” she called out to Malcolm.

“Well, now, I don’t think you’ll be needing the bazooka or the flamethrower, but help yourself, lassie.”

“You don’t know me very well,” she muttered as she made a beeline for those very things. Trey couldn’t be sure, but he thought she caressed them before moving on to her specialty…explosives.

Trey went for his own comfort zone, preferring an easy-to-carry nine-millimeter to something more cumbersome like a rifle. There was a shocking array of choices. He picked up a few and tried them for grip and balance before going with the Glock. It was what he was used to in his service revolver, after all, and in the heat of the battle to come, he wanted to be wholly comfortable with his weapon.

In addition to back-up clips, he would require a vest, zip ties in case civilians needed to be kept under control, flash grenades maybe and a knife or two. Glancing around, he could see that none of that was going to be a problem.

Paz came up. “I don’t know how to choose.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I might have oversold my ROTC training. I’ve never actually fired a pistol, only a rifle.”

Trey rolled his eyes. “Great. I guess you need a crash course in shooting.”

Paz winced. “Sorry.”

“Hey, MacLerie, you got a firing range?”

“Next room over,” the man replied as he and Alex perused what looked like large swords.

Grabbing his piece and an extra clip, Trey beckoned to the doctor. “Come on.”

“All right,” Paz replied, although his focus was on the alien-turned-Scotsman. “He’s not honestly going to fight using a claymore, is he?”

“Fuck if I know.” But, yeah, he did kind of and he’d given up trying to figure these aliens out. Anything that worked was fine with him, too, no matter how bizarre.

Hang in there, Demi. We’re coming.

 

* * * *

 

“They can’t be very happy,” Jase remarked, “swimming around in circles all day.”

Brenin put his chin on his hand as he stared down at the salmon. “Cook said that Malcolm’s fishery is smaller than most, so they’re not as crowded. I guess fancy restaurants in lowland cities pay a lot more for them because they’re such high quality.” He worried the faint scar at his wrist as he spoke.

Jase grabbed his hand. “He fed off you?”

“Yes.” Brenin pulled away. “At my insistence.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.” He went back to leaning on the fishery fence. “We were fooling about, you know. Anyway, he nicked my lip with his fang then went into this seizure, like. I offered my vein and he refused. So, I found scissors in the loo, cut myself and made him drink.”

“Being fed from must have been harder for you than the sex was,” Jase remarked quietly. “I can’t say for sure because all of my rapists were human.”

Horrified, Brenin straightened. “There was more than one?” When Jase nodded, Brenin couldn’t keep from asking, “How did you ever recover from it?”

“I haven’t, not completely. I probably never will in the sense that it’s a part of me. I can’t change the past or forget it. I don’t want to, but I also won’t allow it to dictate how I handle my present or my future.”

“You love Emil.” It wasn’t a question, although he was keen to hear the why of it.

“I do. I shouldn’t if I think about it. After what men did to me, I should have trouble bonding with anyone, let alone an alien, of all people. Then again, maybe that’s what makes it easier. Emil is unlike anyone else in my experience. When he touches me, I don’t remember the others.

“His skin is cool for one thing. His eyes change color and, when he sinks his fangs into me, all it does is make me come harder. Sorry,” he added with a quick glance. “Does hearing that upset you?”

Brenin shook his head. “No. It makes sense, too. I can’t claim that he’s different. Malcolm feels and looks just like the monster—and yet, he isn’t. I know that bone deep. I guess I don’t trust myself. Maybe I’ve just pushed everything so far down that it’s waiting to pop out when I least expect it.

“I did, actually, start to panic last night. When Malcolm covered me with his body and kissed me, it was lovely at first—the kiss, that is. I’ve never experienced the like before. Then, I was all of a sudden swamped with memories of being pinned down. I started to struggle.”

“What did Malcolm do?”

“Got up, mun. Like the Flash, he was. And he let me sit on him, control what happened. That works for me and he doesn’t seem to mind.”

“That’s why you’re okay with him. He isn’t a monster and you know it. Give yourself time, Brenin, and also give yourself trust. You know what you’re doing.”

“Hey!” Mackie called out as he and Quinn raced up from the dock. “You should see the trawler. It’s hideous and as old as dirt. No one will think anything’s happening when we pull up in it.”

He stopped and grinned at them both before glancing down at the fishery. “Ooh, salmon. My favorite fish. Think we’ll have time to eat before we go?”

Quinn laughed. “God, Mackie, we just ate a few hours ago.”

The other boy shrugged. “What can I say, I’ve gotten my appetite back because tonight we’re rescuing Demi.”

 

* * * *

 

“Is it time or not?” Dracul’s patience was at an end. Petru’s briefings were proving more and more useless, so he needed to see for himself what was happening.

Horatiu glared back at him with obvious disdain and arrogance. Dracul couldn’t wait to wipe that look off the man’s face for good. “You know it’s not that simple. The signs are there, but if I take the babe out too soon, he will die—the child, that is. I understand you care nothing about the father.”

On the bed, the slut in question writhed in obvious pain. Normally that would have been entertaining. With his son’s life on the line, he couldn’t afford to enjoy it. He clenched his fingers, making the next vessel for his seed mew in distress. That was a pretty sound, especially as the cunt seemed to like the pain. Go figure. Humans were ridiculous creatures under the best of circumstances.

“I understand well the dangers of the birth, otherwise I would have had Drogo cut the boy out of that useless lump days ago—before they both dared to defy me. Don’t think you can, as well. Safely deliver my son this night or yours will be choking on my cock for breakfast.”

His point made, he stormed out of the room and back to his own. Such was his anger that he didn’t make it there before he needed to find relief. The alcove at the bottom of the stairs did nicely. Slamming the striped-haired slut against the wall, he tore the robe from the boy’s body and resolved to keep the chit naked from that point on.

Dracul liberated his dick and rammed it into the always-welcoming hole. Far from trying to avoid him, the cunt pressed his ass backward and clenched—satisfying in many ways, lacking in others. The resistance was part of the pleasure, although, at that moment, he needed fast relief.

He pounded into the boy with a snap of his hips that made the slut groan and quiver. “That’s it, Master. Take out your frustrations on me. Forget about that room. I will give you so many sons that you’ll never miss any other.”

Dracul twisted the striped hair in his fist and pulled the head back. “I can never have enough.” Shoving his dick in as far as it would go, he bit the exposed neck with a force designed to hurt.

The boy shuddered and groaned, coming from the abuse alone. And so did Dracul. A perfect match at last.

 

* * * *

 

“Please be careful.”

Malcolm peered down into Brenin’s worried eyes. “Always, laddie. Always. And you stay here. I cannae concentrate on what I have to do if I’m worried about you.”

“We’ll stay right here on the boat, I promise you that. Nothing will get us to leave.” He glanced down and said, “I’m glad you’re wearing a kilt.”

“Cheeky boy.”

Malcolm nodded once, as certain as he could be that his boy would keep his promise. His boy. It was getting easier to think that. He closed his duffel and hefted it over one shoulder. The rest of the men—and Logan—were also ready, each carrying their own bag of tricks. Each was armed, too, except the doctor, who’d decided that guns weren’t for him after all. But he had a knife sheathed on his belt and Doc McPhee had fitted him with an array of medicines and instruments that he’d never have got through customs.

They were as ready as they ever were going to be. There was only one last thing to do, to his way of thinking. He pulled out a bottle of his own Scotch and, after popping it open, took a slug. The burn felt good and it was like it had been back in the old days before going into battle. He passed the bottle to Alex, who took his dram before giving it to Val. Willem came next, then Emil. But he passed over Logan by some unspoken agreement and gave it to Duncan instead. While the cop didn’t flinch, the doctor shook his head.

“All right, then,” Malcolm said, taking and recapping the bottle. “We’re off.”

The goodbyes had been done in advance, so they left the boys and Lucien behind without further ado. Darling had arranged a large SUV for the trek up to the castle. It was a tight fit with the eight of them and all their gear. No one grumbled. They were all too focused on the mission. Malcolm was painfully aware that he could die that night. For the last thousand years, that possibility hadn’t worried him over much. Now, he had something to lose—Brenin. Or, more to the point, he worried what would happen to the boy if this battle ended badly. He couldn’t stand the idea of Brenin being alone in the world again or, worse, at Dracul’s mercy.

Well, he just couldn’t allow that to happen and that was that.

Willem was as good a driver as he was a pilot. He brought them within a kilometer of the castle in record time. They finished the journey on foot, with Malcolm leading the way. He knew the area as well as anyone could after a few days of surveillance. He’d figured out the range of Dracul’s security and had already established the perfect vantage points to screen the castle. Alone, he did so while the others waited in a huddled group in the forest.

His goal was easier this time. He only needed to find where Harry and the others were being kept, so the rescue party would know where to go as soon as he let them in. He found them on the first try, because an educated guess had him looking at the towers. The heat signatures told mostly a good story.

“They’re all together,” he said without preamble once he returned to the group. “Harry and his boy are in a tower room with Dafydd.”

“Are you sure?” the cop asked.

“Aye.” He tamped down his irritation at the interruption. He understood how important it was to Duncan to learn that Demi wasn’t with Dracul. “There is a guard, though.”

Duncan swore. “Dracul?”

“No. One of his men, no doubt.”

“How can you know?”

Once again, Malcolm made allowances. “Not only would Dracul never stoop to do such a job himself, I checked his room before coming back here. He’s there with another changed human. I’ll be careful, as careful as I can, to keep him out of the fray when I take on Dracul.”

That had been the deal that he’d struck with Alex. Although everyone had treated this as a joint mission in which whoever got the chance to take out Dracul would, there had also been an unspoken assumption that it would be Alex’s honor if possible. Malcolm had asked Alex to step aside as the senior man. The basis of his request had been that Dracul’s brutality of Brenin had become an issue of personal honor for Malcolm. For him, it was a matter of family and Alex had understood.

Alex clapped him on the shoulder. “Good work, Malcolm. Now, on to the cistern.”

This bit was trickier because they only had the most general sense of where the water that caught in the underground cavern might flow out again. They made some educated guesses based on what information Brenin had been able to give them. It took too long by Malcolm’s estimation. Finally, though, a trickle of water turned into a small stream that led into the side of the hill.

Val pushed to the head of the group. “I’ll check it out.” His knowledge of security transcended Malcolm’s own, so he was happy enough to sit this one out.

A while later, a wet Val returned. “It’s not monitored.”

“You’re sure of that?” Malcolm asked, amazed that access could be that easy.

Val gave him a pointed glare before saying, “Yes, but that’s not surprising, actually.” He frowned. “They don’t expect anyone can find it, let alone wiggle through because it’s too damn small for any of our kind to push through. I went in a way to make sure we had the right spot. The opening is large, then around the time it is completely underwater, it narrows to impossibly small.”

“Fuck!” Malcolm responded for all of them.

“Logan might manage it,” Val said.

They all looked at her. She stared at the ground, shaking her head. “I, um, don’t like small spaces. I can’t… Sorry.” She shook all over as she uttered the apology.

“It’s okay,” Emil said, putting his arm around her. “You don’t have to explain.”

“What about Paz, here?” Malcolm asked. The human was slender, like Logan, although a little taller.

He put up his hands. “You say it’s underwater? I can’t swim very well. A few feet I might manage, but anything more and I’m likely to drown before I could reach the cistern.”

They sat there silently, contemplating how their careful plans were falling to shite. There had to be another way.

“Maybe one of the—” Willem started to say.

Malcolm looked up sharply. “No.”

“You have a better idea? We need someone smaller and we have a boatload full of ‘smaller’ to call on.”

“They’re just boys. Would you send Annika?” Malcolm was being irrational, but he knew right down to his bones that if they went and asked, the one who would fit the bill would be his boy.

Willem glared. “She’s a child. We call them boys, but they’re adults.”

“Enough!” Alex’s quiet voice was no less commanding. “Malcolm, you, Willem and I will return and see if any of the boys have the skill to make the journey. Who knows? Perhaps Lucien can do it.”

“Aye, right.” He was certain that wouldn’t be the case. “Except, that water is like to be freezing this time of year. If a human is to go in, he’ll need a dry suit.”

“We passed a dive shop in the village,” Duncan offered. “Drop me off there and I’ll, um…liberate one.”

“Perfect. Let’s go. Night isn’t going to last forever.” With that friendly reminder, Alex took off.

The others and Malcolm followed, his stomach a churning pool of dread.

 

* * * *

 

Mackie and Lucien both became alert while the rest of them continued to mope and worry. “They’re coming back,” the red-haired boy said before racing up on the deck.

“It’s too soon,” Brenin warned, even as he followed. Concern morphed into relief when he saw Malcolm step out of the SUV. Whatever was going on, at least he was safe for now.

Alex ushered everyone back inside, although Malcolm managed to sneak in a quick kiss to Brenin’s upturned face before doing so. “How good a swimmer are you?” he asked.

“Very,” Brenin replied, confused over the question. “I was on the team back in school.”

“Bugger me. Of course you were,” Malcolm muttered, but he also offered a shaky smile as they joined the others.

“We need someone smaller than us to enter the cistern, as it turns out,” Alex was saying.

Ah, so that’s it. Poor Malcolm. He must be having all kinds of fits over the prospect of me getting into harm’s way. For himself, though, Brenin was glad of it. Hanging around while the men did the dirty work hadn’t sat well with him from the beginning. No matter how Malcolm might feel, Brenin was a man, as well. Young and naïve and still dealing with the trauma of his capture, but a grown-up nevertheless. He might not be a soldier, but he wanted to fight. He had a feeling it would go a long way toward his healing.

“That would be me,” he said before any of the others could speak up. “Unless one of you was in the running for the Olympics, I’m the one to go.” The others looked at him as if he had three heads, so that was that.

Alex gave him a brief nod and a smile. “Excellent. We would be in a bind if you couldn’t. Are you sure you’re willing to do it? It’s all right if you say no. That castle is a terrible place for you.”

“I want to do it,” he replied. He directed his next statement to Malcolm. “I need to do it, mind. You understand?”

“Aye, I do.” He tucked some of Brenin’s hair behind his ear. The man seemed to like doing that and Brenin liked it in return.

“What’s the plan, then?”

“We’ll tell you the way,” Alex said. “Duncan is getting you a dry suit, because the water will be frigid for a human. We’ll meet him outside.” He started to go. Quinn stopped him.

“Alex, wait. Brenin’s joining the fight and we’re not?”

Alex frowned at his lover. “We only need Brenin for the swimming part.”

“Which ends in the castle part,” Quinn retorted. “If Brenin’s joining the fight, then so are we.”

“What he said,” Mackie added with his usual snark, arms folded and a determined look.

“Emil will be pissed,” Jase observed. “But seems to me that we would be the perfect third group in this assault. I mean, everyone has kind of glossed over the humans, changed or not, that are captive in there. Someone’s got to deal with them. They can’t stay there once Logan’s explosives start going off. And who better to speak to them in a way that is sympathetic and in terms they can understand than us?” He waved his hand to encompass the humans in the cabin.

“It does rather fit into the revised plans, sir,” Malcolm said.

Alex sighed. “Emil and Val both will be apoplectic if I show up with you boys. I’m going to have a mutiny on my hands if I do. They won’t want to proceed if you’re going to be in danger.”

Lucien stepped up. “Please, Alex, what Jase says is true. These boys can be helpful in your fight. Don’t underestimate them because they are mere humans. And don’t let your love for Quinn cloud your judgment. You can’t wrap him up and keep him safe from everything. I thought I could do that with Demi and look how wrong I was. I’ll stay with the boat. Someone should.”

Alex nodded once. “You all make fair points and we’re wasting time.”

With that, he grabbed Quinn’s hand and bolted out of the cabin. It took another second for everyone else to realize that they’d won the argument. Brenin and Malcolm let Mackie and Jase go first before following.

At the doorway, Brenin paused long enough to look over his shoulder at Lucien. “We’ll bring them back to you. I promise.”

Everyone piled into the SUV, a tight fit, but it allowed Brenin to sit close to Malcolm. Willem sat behind the wheel, eyes wide for a moment before he started the engine. He pulled away from the dock and stopped about a block away. The reason became apparent when Duncan sprinted across the road with a bag in his hand.

The copper squeezed into the SUV, paused, then, shaking his head, buckled up. “This isn’t going to go over well, but I can’t say I’m surprised.”

That was the last anyone said, other than Malcolm, who laid out the revised plan for Brenin to access the cistern. “Are you okay with it?” he asked Brenin.

“Sure. It will be dead easy.” His false bravado faltered in the next instant because he leaned against the man, drawing what strength he could for the ordeal to come.

“Keep going, Willem,” Alex said when the man started to pull over at the edge of the woods. “The boys can’t make the trek as fast as we can and we don’t want Brenin tired by the time he arrives.”

“It’s riskier,” the driver replied, even as he kept going.

“Not by much,” Malcolm said. “I’ve done a lot of surveillance, don’t forget. I saw no cameras by the road. I was only being extra-cautious before. Like Alex said, Brenin needs all his energy for the swim.” He squeezed Brenin’s hand.

Proverbial butterflies wreaked havoc with Brenin’s stomach for the rest of the journey. The closer he got to the castle, the more the memories of his ordeal threatened to overwhelm him. He used Malcolm’s touch as a way to ground himself and pictured how wonderful it would feel once the monster was dead. His direct contribution to that eventuality would go a long way toward putting it all behind him. His damsel in distress persona was about to become the instrument of revenge.

They finally exited the SUV and the physical act of walking helped with the jitters. The rest of their group was huddled in a small hollow and sheltered by large trees. The expressions on their faces when they saw the boys creeping up to join them were priceless. A mixture of surprise, anger and simply ‘holy fuck’, when it came to the doctor, served to distract Brenin even more.

Alex held out his hand before anyone could speak. “We don’t have time to discuss this turn of events in committee. I’ll give you the revised, revised plan once Brenin is off.”

That shut everyone up, although Emil gave Jase a brutally hard hug and Val swatted Mackie’s arse before doing the same.

Duncan opened the bag he carried. “Here’s the suit and I grabbed a diving knife, too.”

Malcolm took both from him. “Bless you, Sergeant.”

“I, ah…had to guess on the size and ended up taking one from the women’s rack. I also left some money on the counter because I’m a cop and these things are expensive.”

Malcolm was already helping Brenin strip down. “Looks a good fit and I’ll reimburse you the cost.”

“Nah, not necessary. My point was that I didn’t like the idea of a small business being cheated out of their stock.”

“Admirable.”

Malcolm’s attention really wasn’t on the conversation, Brenin realized. The man’s face was extra-grim and his hands appeared a little shaky. Brenin didn’t remark on it, though. He figured this was a weakness that the man rarely showed and it humbled Brenin to know it was on his account. It made him even more determined to succeed.

As he was outfitted for his journey, the others adjusted to the new plan. First Duncan, then Logan and finally the doctor stripped off the Kevlar vests each of them had been wearing and silently handed them over to the boys. Or, rather, they gave them to the boys’ significant others, who muscled them onto their boys, whether they wanted them to or not.

“There, now.” Malcolm patted Brenin’s shoulders, checking the dry suit’s fit. Then he took the knife from Duncan and tucked it into the pocket on the side. The last thing he added was a tiny homing beacon. He’d shown it to Brenin on the way over. Once Brenin had reached the cistern, he was to activate it, so that the others would know he’d made it and the next phase of the operation could begin.

“That should do it, laddie. Ready?” he asked, grabbing his torch.

Not trusting his voice at the moment, Brenin merely nodded. He followed Malcolm up the slope to where a trickle of water turned into a shallow stream and into an overgrown hole in the side of mountain. Malcolm shoved aside the vegetation growing there and ushered Brenin into the dark. It didn’t stay that way for long, however. Malcolm quickly followed and turned on his torch to give them a beam of light to follow.

The dank space made Brenin’s nose twitch and the roots growing from all around them made walking hard. He focused on the illumination and hooked his fingers around Malcom’s waistband for stability. The space was so narrow that they had to walk single file. He would have much preferred to be safely tucked under his lover’s arm. This wasn’t a walk in the woods, however. It was a mission and he needed to keep his nerve and do what only he could for the greater good. If he succeeded, he would have helped eliminate a threat to the entire world.

As the water level rose, the tunnel narrowed. At a certain point, Malcolm squeezed Brenin in front of him. A turn in the bend revealed why.

“Here’s as far as I can go, laddie.” At this point, the water was up to Brenin’s thighs and he was glad for the dry suit. Malcolm’s kilt was sodden and wrapped around the man’s legs. He held out the torch. “You’re going to need this. It’s waterproof.”

Brenin took it. “Right.” The gloves Duncan had taken were flexible, so it was easy to get a good grip on the thing. He used it to highlight the slit in the tunnel he’d have to squeeze through. “It’s going to be a tight fit, mind, given how much you’ve fattened me up.”

He was trying to lighten the moment. Instead, he made his own eyes water with emotion and, next thing he knew, Malcolm was hugging him. “You have a care, now. Don’t take any unnecessary chances.”

“I won’t. I want to survive. I have something to live for now.” It was chancy for sure, but he needed to be brave in all things. “I love you, Malcolm.” He buried his face into the man’s chest and hugged him with all the strength he had.

“Och, laddie, you stole my line.”

Brenin lifted his head. “Really?”

Malcolm nodded. “Aye. I didnae want to distract you with something as heavy as my feelings right at the moment. Now that you’ve said it, though, I can admit my own.” He kissed him, then, the kind that stole Brenin’s breath at the very moment he needed all of it.

Brenin didn’t mind. He used the opportunity to borrow some of Malcolm’s courage by inhaling his scent. Then, sensing he would have to be the one to end things, he broke away. Without another word, he plunged forward.

The narrow opening was only the half of it. The tunnel didn’t widen appreciably after that for quite a distance. All the while, the water rose until only his head was above it, and he bounced along the floor on the balls of his feet. When he needed to go underwater, he took two deep breaths and let them out. On the third, he went under and clawed his way sideways along the tunnel.

The space mercifully opened sufficiently for him to swim horizontally instead. He could go faster that way, and there was no good estimate of how far it was to the cistern. His limit on holding his breath was seventy-five meters. Not bad for an amateur swimmer, but it also meant he had to estimate how far he’d gone so that he could turn around when and if necessary.

He wasted no time shooting through the tunnel. It was easy, this. He’d always liked the peace and liberating feeling that came from swimming, especially underwater where there was nothing to see or feel other than its cocooning embrace.

This was no sanitized pool, though. The tunnel was icky, in a horror movie kind of way. He half-expected eyes to stare back at him as he flashed the beam of light in front of him or hands to reach out from the slimy dirt walls. If he allowed himself to think about it too hard, he’d freak out. He couldn’t let that happen. Besides, the mud turned to metal quickly. The sight gave him heart. He’d obviously entered the part where the cistern had been created. He was almost at his destination.

A few meters more and his heart sank. The monster hadn’t been so stupid as to leave an entry to his fortress. A metal mesh grate barred his way. Swimming up to it, Brenin showed the light around the edges of the bar. It was a kind of door with hinges on one side and a padlock on the other. Brenin wrapped the fingers of his free hand around the grate and tugged. He pulled with all his might, trying various points—the lock and even the hinges. Nothing gave. The thing was slimy, and clearly old, yet it wasn’t compromised and held fast. Beyond the barrier, he could see the cistern. He was so close to his goal.

A burn in Brenin’s lungs told him his time was running out. He had to get back to Malcolm so they could figure out a way for him to get past this roadblock. Reluctantly, he turned around in the tight space and took off back the way he’d come. A wave of dizziness washed over him and the urge to breathe became overwhelming. He’d come farther than he’d realized. Or no, he’d judged his capacity based on the boy he used to be—fit, well-fed, in perfect health. He wasn’t that boy anymore, hadn’t been for months now.

It was going to be a close call as to whether he could reach air before his lungs gave out. He would do it, though. He had to because Malcolm, who loved him, was waiting on the other side.

 

* * * *

 

It was taking too long. Malcolm braced himself against the dirt wall and tried to push away his worry. Not possible. The beacon in his hand remained silent. Brenin hadn’t reached the cistern. It had only been a few minutes since he’d let the boy go, the hardest thing he’d ever done. Not even watching the life leave Fergus’ eyes had taken such a toll on Malcolm’s emotions. He loved Brenin and, miraculously, the boy loved him back. Perhaps it was only circumstantial and, after this hard work was finished, Brenin would realize his love was only gratitude. If that were the case, it would kill Malcolm to let him go. He would do it, though, because Brenin alive was all that really mattered.

How long can a human go without breathing? A couple of minutes, maybe longer for a good underwater swimmer. But was Brenin even that, still? He’d been a prisoner for months. The boy wasn’t in good shape. Damn it to hell. Malcolm knew that and had still let him go? Yes, for the greater good, he had.

Fuck that.

He whipped off his sweater and kilt. Kicked off boots and socks, then, shoving the beacon into his smallclothes, he charged the narrow opening. It was merely dirt and roots and it was only his skin to lose. He pressed against the constriction, scraping every inch of himself. He could feel his flesh turning to dust. His nose broke against a jutting rock. The taste of his own blood fueled his efforts. All the while, he hoped to feel the beacon go off, and when it didn’t, he redoubled his efforts, grunting with the pain, yet determined to reach Brenin, no matter the cost.

The mountain was an unforgiving bitch. She pressed him, making it impossible for him to go far. The tunnel was filled with water at the point he started to flail against the impediment. Holding his breath was nothing. His lungs could hold a lot and naturally suppressed the carbon dioxide. But his fucking body was too damn big to squeeze through.

He peered into the murk. Brenin!

Like that, the boy appeared, a ghostly apparition that was obviously in distress. Malcolm shot his hand out as far as his arm could reach. Brenin managed to clasp it. Malcolm yanked him forward before releasing his hand to grab the back of his head. Pressing their lips together, Malcolm opened his mouth. He used his tongue to force Brenin to do the same, then breathed into him.

The boy, bless him, caught on quick and inhaled. As he gave his love the very breath in his lungs, Malcolm clawed his way back. Having done nearly as much damage to the tunnel walls as they had done to him, retreat was quicker. He had Brenin at a point where he could lift his head above the water in seconds—long, long ones that nearly stopped Malcolm’s heart from fear. He didn’t lose the sense of terror until Brenin gulped in a great breath on his own. Malcolm wasted no time on his relief. Instead, he muscled them both out. When they reached the entryway, he collapsed on the floor and pulled Brenin onto his lap.

They sat there shaking for long minutes, saying nothing and everything at the same time. It was Brenin, in the end, who showed the greater courage by pushing away from Malcolm’s embrace and explaining what had happened.

Malcolm listened then wrapped his kilt around the boy. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

He returned to the group, who sat silently where he’d left them. “Who has the bolt-cutters?”

Logan pulled the tool out and handed it to him. He nodded his thanks and turned to leave. He caught Alex’s gaze and wanted nothing more than to rail at the man for everything Brenin was going through. That would have been foolish, he knew. This wasn’t Alex’s fault, none of it. It was Malcolm’s because it all started a thousand Earth years ago when Malcolm hadn’t done the right thing and warned his captain that his chief navigator wasn’t up to the job.

Tonight he’d rectify that mistake.