Chapter One

 

 

 

Boston, 2017

 

Normally the throbbing beat of dance music didn’t faze Val. The rhythm reverberating in his chest reminded him of the ship’s engines pulsing. It had been a thousand Earth years since he’d last felt them, yet he hadn’t forgotten. He never forgot anything, and that unusual skill, for humans and his species alike, made his life a misery sometimes.

From the second-floor railing, he surveyed the club like a bird of prey, always on the lookout for trouble. That was the job of a bouncer. Humans had little self-control. Even the men of this upscale private club could get out of hand. That was especially true on a Saturday night when they allowed themselves to cut loose from their weekly jobs. And the pretty boys dancing for them only inspired them to more stupidity, not less.

One in particular was causing quite a stir and the sight of it raised Val’s blood pressure in a way that the blaring music never did.

“Mackie’s in fine form tonight.”

Val almost bared his fangs at the casual remark. Given that it had been delivered by his superior, he kept his impulse in check. Besides, he had a lot emotionally invested in being unconcerned with the redheaded boy’s life.

He clamped his fingers harder around the railing. “His arm healed well.”

Alex leaned against the barrier next to him. “Yes, although that’s not what I meant. The members are delighted to see him back in action. He’ll make a killing, even if he only dances on the stage.”

The man’s gaze bore into him, although Val refused to take his eyes off the patrons. “He’s a smart boy. He’ll bring some up here and make even more.” The words were uttered with indifference, although maintaining the ‘I don’t give a fuck’ tone nearly caused his throat to constrict.

Alex left him alone for about two seconds. “We could still see him settled somewhere else. I’m sure any one of our remaining cadre would be willing and able to keep him safe. That’s assuming Dracul has him in his crosshairs at all.”

“No.”

Val had had this conversation before with Alex. Since the renewal of their endless internecine war a few months earlier, they’d been operating under the assumption that Quinn and Mackie were both at risk. Alex kept his lover safe, of course, and Mackie had been convalescing at the club. The brat had been willing to be kept pampered and happy to return to his old job on the pole. He’d probably been shaken enough by his near-death experience at Adrian’s hands to go along with any plan to protect him from further harm.

It was Val who was the problem. He couldn’t stand the idea of his former lover being sent away. No one could be trusted with the boy’s safety other than him. His feelings on the matter were irrational, he knew. Those of his crew who remained loyal to Alex were all well-trained warriors who had survived human aggression, as well as Dracul’s frequent assaults. Yet, any time Val pictured Mackie being kept by another, his head threatened to explode.

“He’s my responsibility.” His gaze homed in on a club member whose hand lingered a little too long on Mackie’s perfect ass. “I will keep him safe, no one else.”

“Val…” Alex’s tone was one of infinite patience. He only used it when one of his men was driving him crazy. “You can’t keep the boy under your watchful eye forever, not as things stand between you.”

Val glanced sideways. “Things stand exactly where I want them. Mackie, too. He’s made it quite clear he wants nothing more to do with me.”

“His feelings are hurt. You know how these humans are. You sent him away with blistering words that his wounded pride won’t allow him to forgive.”

“They were necessary.”

It had been one of the hardest things he’d ever done—tossing Mackie out on his ear to keep him from Dracul’s clutches and it hadn’t even worked. Harder still had been seeing Mackie battered and bruised in Adrian’s hands. He would have torn the fucker to pieces, except that honor had been Alex’s. Val still blamed himself for not breaking it off with the boy earlier.

The club member’s hand hadn’t left Mackie’s ass. Every time the boy moved, the man stayed with him. Val’s eyes narrowed and his fingers tightened sufficiently to hurt his knuckles. If he wasn’t careful, he might splinter Alex’s beautiful balustrade.

Alex’s voice claimed his attention once more. “At the time, yes, your scheme seemed the correct course. Now, wouldn’t it be more prudent—”

Val cut him off as he pushed back. “Excuse me, sir. I’m needed on the floor.”

He wanted to vault over the railing. It was the quickest route down and an easy drop for him. It would scare the shit out of the humans, however, so he was forced to use the stairs instead—and at a pace that made his teeth clench. Damn, these upright apes and their slow, puny bodies. Mimicking their weakness infuriated him. Always had.

Still, he fairly flew down the stairs to the first floor and strode over to the small stage where Mackie was thrilling his admirers with his graceful dancing—provocative, as well, his lithe body twisting around the pole as if born to it. His pale beauty was entrancing, even at a distance, though Val had sworn to resist it. During his weeks of recovery, the boy had let the shaved part of his head grow out. He had gelled it into spikes that should have looked ridiculous, but somehow Mackie pulled it off.

Val couldn’t help but stare at the red hair. It had been his weakness, and the sight of it set off a pang deep inside him, as it always did, except Robbie had had a fresh-faced look, with round cheeks and wide eyes that conveyed wonder at everything. Mackie’s features were sharper, more elfin, and his eyes held a depth of pain that always tugged at Val’s protective instincts.

It wouldn’t take much, a small slip in Val’s resolve, for him to be totally lost. He could not let that happen. He’d been selfish once before to fatal results. He wouldn’t be that weak or self-indulgent again. No more human boys would die in agony because of him.

As Val approached, Mackie leaned down and said something to the man whose hand was still plastered against the go-go boy’s rump like it had been surgically attached. The man shook his head and leaned in closer, his lips almost grazing Mackie’s lightly painted, plump ones.

The room became a hazy red before Val could keep himself in check. Mackie turned toward him, and his eyes fairly popped right before Val lashed out and grabbed the offending club member by the back of his collar. Even with the loud music, the man’s squeak of alarm reached Val’s ears.

He grinned, careful to keep his fangs from showing as he hauled the man up to his face. “Having fun, Mr. Warren?” The older man sputtered and squirmed. “You know the rules, sir. Boys dancing for your entertainment is not a license to be overly friendly. I believe you were crossing a line just now.” He kept his tone moderate, mindful of how much Alex loved his club and living in Boston. Nothing would be gained by causing too much of a fuss.

Mackie all but flew off his stage to join them. “Let go, Val. Mr. Warren was a little overly enthusiastic. He wants a lap dance so badly that he was having a hard time waiting for my time on the stage to end.”

The boy’s proximity was like a magnet for Val. He hated how impossible it was to escape his lure. Reluctantly, Val took his gaze off the patron and swung it over to the little spitfire. Mackie flashed him a grin that was also a warning to knock it off. Smaller than most human men, the boy had never been one to back down, not even when up against someone half-again his height and almost twice his weight.

Mackie placed one delicate hand on Val’s arm. “Come on. Everyone’s glad to see me back. You’re putting a major crimp in my style. You know I can handle myself.”

For a few frightening seconds, Val lost himself in Mackie’s green eyes. It had been so long since they’d interacted directly, Val having been careful to keep his distance. He’d almost forgotten how compelling those human eyes were. The light touch of the boy’s fingers burned through the sleeves of Val’s Armani suit and right down to his flesh. His stupid dick stirred with the memory of what those clever fingers could do.

A tug from Warren, along with a few more sputtering sounds of indignation, forced Val to break free of Mackie’s influence. Loosening his grip, Val eased the club member onto his feet. Val fussed with straightening the man’s jacket.

“My apologies, Mr. Warren. It seems I misconstrued the situation.” Before the man could utter a response, Val whipped out his wallet and pulled a hundred from it. “Please have a few lap dances on me.”

The wealthy man hardly needed the gift but that wasn’t the point. Val turned away and peered down into Mackie’s blazing gaze. He kept staring as he bent to tuck the bill into the already stuffed G-string the boy wore. It was some frilly bit of fabric that was more effeminate and less Goth than Mackie’s previous look had been. It, along with the heavier makeup the boy had plastered onto his face, should have been a turn-off. Val had always preferred males to females. Somehow, on this particular human, the new look only served to make the boy more enticing.

He slid his fingers along the silky skin moist from the boy’s recent exertions. It was how he remembered that flesh. He’d once spent hours trailing his fingers along every inch he could reach, Mackie always purring like a cat at the touch. He’d craved the contact like a starving man did bread.

Yes Val, the one who never forgot, got a jolt of nostalgia. It was a dangerous game he suddenly played. The look in Mackie’s kohl-rimmed eyes confirmed that the human remembered, too. It would take nothing for Val to lean down farther and take those plump, painted lips in a searing kiss that would leave them both breathless.

That way lay madness, however. He had to be strong for both their sakes. So, tucking in the bill, he straightened once more and hastened away with as much dignity as he could muster.

 

Mackie watched Val leave, the man’s broad back set firmly and his gait confident. No, not a man, an alien. Val was from another world and another time, as well, when one considered that he had been on Earth for a thousand years. And Mackie had thought about it—a lot. His slow recovery from that awful night when his world had turned upside down had left him with plenty of time to ponder the situation. Nearly everyone in the club that he’d started to think of as his family was otherworldly in the literal sense of the word.

I’ve been fucked by an alien. A vampire. I gave my blood and heart to him.

Those notions had been reeling around in Mackie’s head for weeks. It left him slightly queasy and totally confused. He should have been petrified, especially after what he’d suffered at the hands of one of their kind. Alex had killed the asshole in a battle worthy of the best Marvel Universe movie. Mackie had been awed and terrified in equal measure. A sensible person would have blabbed to the police—or at least run fast and far. Mackie had done neither of those things. He’d chosen instead to keep his mouth shut and allowed himself to be installed back into the one place in his life where he’d finally felt safe.

For, despite how Val and his cohorts could make the bravest person’s blood run cold, Mackie didn’t worry for a second that he was in danger with them. Maybe it was because Val had shown such amazing restraint when they’d played upstairs in one of the private club rooms. Mackie had been at the man’s mercy hundreds of times and yet Val had always only brought him the kind of pain that elicited pleasure. Although Mackie had never used his safeword—a point of pride—he’d also never doubted that Val would heed it.

Val had been the first person to treat Mackie with respect, and even affection, albeit in a gruff and remote way. Perhaps that was why Mackie had fallen in love with him. An armchair psychologist would probably say so, not him. Mackie had always felt he and Val had been destined for one another. Together they could tackle anything…until Val had thrown what they’d had away. The man didn’t deserve Mackie’s love or even a second more of consideration.

Mackie forced himself to turn from the sight of Val’s retreating back and focus on someone who appreciated him. He flashed a smile at Warren that was guaranteed to harden a man’s dick and loosen his wallet.

“Sorry about that, sweetie. Val always has a stick up his ass. Let’s go have some fun.”

The older man’s expression changed from indignation to delight, as Mackie expected. And yes, the guy’s thousand-dollar trousers had tented nicely. He understood Mackie’s worth and appreciated getting to spend time with him. Mackie took his somewhat-sweaty hand and led him through the throng of men milling about the dance floor area. Everyone he passed gave him a broad smile or a suggestive wink. They were happy to see him back in action, and the attention lifted Mackie’s spirits.

The money didn’t hurt, either. His new gender-bending HommeMystere thong was packed with bills. They made satisfyingly crinkly sounds as he strutted, careful to put a provocative swing to his hips. It was like a constant musical accompaniment to his sexy strut. He also liked the tangible feel of the cash against his skin. Knowing he had money eased the one thing that he was truly terrified of—poverty. Not having had much money during childhood, he’d known real hunger and homelessness once he’d been kicked out of his house. Blood-sucking aliens didn’t hold a candle to the kind of terror that comes from not knowing where his next meal was coming from or whether he would freeze to death in an alley.

Since he’d started working at the club, he’d found financial security for the first time in his life and not only because Val had kept him as his boy. Mackie was capable of earning his own money, dancing coming naturally to him. Now he had a way to make a great living and a surprisingly plump bank account.

Of course, the one bill that his body somehow distinguished from the others was the hundred that Val had tucked in. Damn the man. Even with their relationship in tatters, he still managed to make Mackie feel owned by him. Not in a way that was demeaning… It was more like being cherished. Worse, a significant part of Mackie was thrilled at the idea. Try as he might, he couldn’t quite quash his love for Val and the need to be dominated by him. All this was despite the vicious way in which Val had cut their bond.

Stop it! Don’t think about him.

Mackie sprinted up the stairs to the second floor, dragging Mr. Warren behind him. “Let’s go find a quiet corner and get reacquainted.”

There were lots of big, comfy seats designed to allow a go-go boy to straddle even the widest of hips. A couple of boys were entertaining clients already. On a Saturday night, it was all hands on deck and Alex had recruited a few more dancers in the months during Mackie’s recovery. Normally, Mackie didn’t care about being seen. He would grab the first free space. For some reason, though, he was feeling uncharacteristically shy. So, he went all the way to the far end before depositing his guest on the red velvet seat.

Warren grinned up at him with obvious glee as Mackie climbed up on his lap. “The bouncer gave you a hundred. That’s five songs, right?”

“You know it is, Daddy.” Mackie fluttered his lashes, a move that normally came easily to him, yet felt oddly forced now.

Warren licked his lips. “I want to spend the time touching all of you.” He raised his meaty hands and ran them down Mackie’s back. “Maybe we can get rid of all these pesky bills? They’re getting in the way.”

“Sure, sweetie.” Mackie usually would have already pulled the bills out to form a pile on the seat. For some reason, he’d felt like keeping them in place. They did present a little bit of a barrier.

He inwardly scoffed at the idea. His job involved allowing the patrons to cop a feel, and the more they did, the more they paid. He hadn’t been out of commission that long to have forgotten what the deal was. Making short work of clearing the way for his patron’s grabby fingers, Mackie began to sway his hips in time to the music.

It was like riding a bicycle—not that he’d been on one of those for years. His body knew what to do, the same way it had remembered his routines on the pole. He undulated against the man’s tented pants, rubbing the hard-on inside them with light brushes up and down and side to side. Warren pressed his fingers into Mackie’s ass, hard enough to make him wince. He recovered in time to turn it into what he hoped was a seductive smile.

“Oh, Daddy, I missed you,” he moaned against the man’s ear. He knew what men liked from him. “No one treats me the way you do.” He was there to satisfy club members’ risqué fantasies without running afoul of the law. He could play the slutty boy for them.

“Baby…” Warren’s whiskey breath wafted into Mackie’s face before the man ran his tongue along Mackie’s jaw.

The intimate touch caused Mackie to jerk back. He surprised himself as much as Warren. The man frowned and clenched his fingers even more. “Something wrong?”

To cover up the insulting response, Mackie said, “Sorry, Daddy. I only want to loosen you up a bit. It’s hot in here, don’t you think?”

Warren licked his lips and groaned. “Yeah, so hot.”

Mackie made a fuss about undoing the man’s shirt buttons to expose his chubby, smooth chest. Then Mackie moaned and fawned over it by running his hands down the sweat-slicked skin. All the while, he gyrated against the man’s lap with a fake smile plastered on his face.

What’s wrong with me? This is the job I love.

But, try as he might, he couldn’t work up any genuine enthusiasm for the lap dance. He found himself counting down the songs so he could finish up. Warren, on the other hand, was just getting started. The man bucked up his own hips to meet Mackie’s lap. Their dicks rubbed together, making the man moan with heavy-lidded eyes. Mackie’s cock remained soft, the movement doing nothing for him.

Because it was the wrong dick touching his.

The fifth song was playing when Warren really upped the ante. He slid a finger underneath Mackie’s thong and pressed it against Mackie’s hole. Mackie froze mid-swivel and glared down at the man.

Warren stared back at him with blown pupils. “Come on, baby. Let’s go to one of the private rooms.” He licked his lips again. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

Mackie gave the invitation about two seconds’ worth of thought before practically vaulting off the man’s lap. “Sorry, sweetie. That’s not on the menu tonight.” He grabbed his money and made a show of stuffing it back in his G-string. “I’ll see you later.”

“Hey!” Warren grabbed Mackie’s arm before he could leave. “What gives? Word is you’re not with the bouncer anymore.” He heaved to his feet. “Don’t be a tease now. I said I’d pay you well.”

Mackie let his eyes flash his annoyance. “I’m not teasing. I’m refusing.” He looked pointedly down where the man’s fingers still gripped his arm.

With a sigh, Warren let him go. “Okay, I hear you, but if you change your mind…” The man pulled out his wallet and removed a hundred. “Here. I don’t like another guy paying for my dances. And, it’s a little reminder that I can make your life very easy if you’ll let me.”

Pride waged war with practicality for about three seconds until Mackie remembered that he was an undereducated gay kid with no family to speak of. Snatching the bill, Mackie said, “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He stuffed it down the front of his thong before sauntering away, to show how unaffected he was by the exchange. He made sure to keep his gait slow and provocative, hiding the sudden turmoil and sadness whirling around inside him. The night had started out so well. Why, then, did he feel cheap and miserable?

Unable to face the rest of the club members—or a particular bouncer—Mackie made a beeline for the boy’s locker room in the back of the club. He’d hoped to find it empty, but no such luck. Quinn and Shawn were there, Quinn still dressed in work ‘clothes’ from their shift. Even though Quinn was banging Alex on the regular, he still insisted on working. He simply didn’t do lap dances anymore, in order to keep Alex from losing his alien shit on club members. Shawn had obviously just taken a shower and stood with a towel wrapped around his hips. They were staring at the flat screen on the far wall.

“What’s up, guys?” While Mackie didn’t feel like socializing, he also didn’t want to let on that he was anything other than happy to be back to work.

Shawn glanced over his shoulder. “Girl, you’ve got to see this.”

Mackie didn’t bother to object to the feminine pronoun. Shawn always spoke like that. Besides, the way Mackie was styling his hair and makeup—not to mention the new outfits—there wasn’t much to complain about. Mackie hadn’t thought hard about his new gender-bending look, although he supposed it was intended to piss off Val or something.

He stepped closer to them. “What’s going on?”

“Some guy is so freaking high that he’s hanging off a balcony at Copley Place.”

As he came abreast of them, Mackie could see and hear the breaking newscast. A young white guy with blond dreadlocks was holding on to the railing with one crooked arm. He was grinning like a maniac and waving like he was on the Jumbotron at Fenway. Although his middle was blurred out to protect the viewing public’s sensibilities, it was obvious that he was buck-naked.

Mackie leaned in to get a better view. “What the fuck?”

“I know, right?” Quinn nudged Shawn. “Turn up the volume. I can’t hear what he’s saying.”

Shawn pressed the remote, and they all got an earful. “I’m a superhero!” the guy called out. “Have no fear, people of Earth. I can fly. Your puny buildings can’t hold me.”

There were a few screams as they guy leaned over. Behind him, police were trying to edge closer. He swung his head wildly in their direction. “You have no power over me. I have the strength of ten of you.” The camera zoomed in the moment the man turned his head back to peer down from where he hung. Mackie’s heart skipped a beat as he got a good look.

“I am more powerful that you can imagine!”

Those were the man’s last words before, spreading his arms out wide, he swan-dived down. The screams were deafening, but Mackie hardly noticed. Instead, he grabbed at Quinn’s arm.

“Did you see his eyes?”

Quinn turned a horror-stricken face to him. “It couldn’t be.”

“What?” Shawn asked. “His eyes were bloodshot. Big deal. Must have been on bath salts or something.”

But no one was listening to him. “We need to tell Alex and Val,” Mackie said. Mackie didn’t wait for Quinn to move after he nodded. Instead, Mackie headed for the door with more speed than he’d used to enter it. His melancholy from moments ago had fled in the face of a possible new stage of the alien war.