The guy jerked to a sitting position and wiped some drool from his face. “What the fuck!” He looked at Merlin and smirked. “Hey, cunt, how about another blowie?”
“No, thanks. Got to go. I’m supposed to be helping with the baby.” The man’s expression conveyed how much he disliked that answer. To appease him, Merlin reminded him of what was at stake. “I’d hate to have to tell the Master that I was late helping with his son because I was too busy with your dick in my mouth.”
“Yeah, yeah. Come back when you’re done.”
“Sure thing.” He pretended to gag as he left the room, careful not to let the man see, yet unable to stay the impulse. This undercover stuff sucked, in the literal sense of the word.
Merlin did take the time to wash quickly and dress in his street clothes before going to the nursery. Really, it was Andri’s room, kitted out for childcare. He found the weird-eyed changeling trying to feed a fussing Idris.
“Come on, you little shit. It tastes good. I just ate some, didn’t I?”
Idris sat in a highchair, glaring at the boy with obvious suspicion. The baby had good instincts and was giving Dracul’s crazy slut fits. It would have been comical to watch, except Merlin wasn’t entirely convinced that the nutcase with the zebra hair could be relied on to do the right thing, even for his own preservation.
“Hey there, Idris. Not eating your mashed peas, are you?”
Andri slapped the spoon he held into the bowl and glared at him. “You’re late.”
“Sorry… It’s hard to keep track of time down here in the land of the mole people.”
Andri’s expression turned even nastier. “Better not let the Master hear you say that.”
“The Master is the exception that proves the rule. I was referring to the human mercenaries. Oh…and you.”
He squatted beside the highchair and tickled the baby’s foot. “How’s it going?”
Idris pointed one chubby finger at the bowl in Andri’s hand. “Yuck!” He gave this pronouncement in his usual opera-volume voice.
Merlin glanced at the mixture of potatoes, peas and carrots. “Can’t argue with you there, kid. It’s not much better than those MREs the soldiers fed us on the plane.”
“You think you can do better?” Andri slammed the bowl on the table and flounced away.
Such a drama queen.
Merlin took his place. “It’s all in the tone.” He spooned some of the mush and held it close to Idris’ lips. “Come on, Idris. I know this sucks, but eat it for me. Do it for the Queen,” he whispered.
That did the trick. The baby opened his mouth and dutifully emptied the spoonful. Then he took the next one with less coaxing and finally was happily finishing his meal. Some of it slopped on Merlin’s finger. When he licked it off, he realized that it actually tasted pretty good.
“You’re a naughty boy, aren’t you, Idris? Giving Andri a hard time…” He grinned and the boy returned the look. He could swear they shared a moment of conspiracy.
Once the food was consumed, he took Idris out of the chair and set him on his lap with a bottle of juice. “See? That wasn’t so hard.”
Andri was over by his full-length mirror, trying on a kimono-like silk robe. “Fuck you,” he said, although without heat. He was too busy admiring himself.
“If taking care of him is too much trouble, I’d be glad to take over.” That wasn’t strictly true. He needed the freedom to fulfill his mission. Idris would be a hindrance. He just couldn’t help baiting the asshole and knew Andri would never relinquish control of Dracul’s son.
The hybrid whirled around. “The hell you will. Idris is my baby.”
“Technically, he’s Dracul’s…and Dafydd’s.”
Fury blazed in the changeling’s weird-ass eyes. “That stupid cunt. He’s nothing—a weakling who didn’t know how good he had it being in the Master’s bed.”
“Not so weak and useless. He gave Dracul three sons, after all.” He paused for effect. “You never have produced a son. Isn’t that right?”
“Only because Petru wasn’t virile enough to get me pregnant.”
“Really? He seemed pretty badass to me. My sire was terrified of him, I can tell you. Everyone back in the castle was, except for the Master, naturally.”
Andri looked down his nose at him. “Strength doesn’t equal potency.”
“Sure, sure.” Merlin shifted his attention to the baby, dandling him on his knee. “I hear, though, that the change doesn’t always take. Some humans never grow a womb or produce eggs when needed.” He gave the boy the side-eye. “Hard to tell what’s going on in that skinny ass of yours.”
“You little fucker!” Andri came closer with his hand raised.
“I wouldn’t try it,” Merlin warned, regretting his choice of causing conflict between them. God, he was going stir-crazy—or maybe it was excess adrenaline from what he’d just done back in the computer room.
The sound of the Mad King’s voice over the intercom interrupted the burgeoning fight. “Bring my son to me.”
Andri’s demeanor turned in an instant. With a coo and a smile, he tried to take Idris from Merlin’s arms. The baby wasn’t having any of that, however, so Andri quickly gave up and said, “Follow me.”
Merlin did, rolling his eyes at the flouncing way the changeling hurried to the throne room. They entered in time to see Dracul fling a bloody Dafydd onto the ground. The man lay still, panting through obvious pain. Merlin covered Idris’ eyes with his hand to shield him from the distressing sight. Mateo sat on his haunches to one side, glassy-eyed.
“You’re beginning to bore me, cunt. Your time is growing short.” Dracul returned to his version of a throne and threw himself into it. “My son!” He looked in Merlin’s direction and held out his hands.
Not wanting to tip his hand any more than necessary, Merlin reluctantly uncovered Idris’ eyes, although as he went over, he tried to keep the boy facing his nasty father so that he couldn’t see his brutalized one. Idris was young, but his brain and body had grown a great deal in a short amount of time, as with all hybrids, and Merlin could remember being aware of the goings-on around him much earlier than anyone had appreciated.
As he made his way across the room, he glanced at the various men standing around, having watched the show. Per usual, they were all throwing boners in their cammies, if not actively jerking off. It was obvious to him that despite the titillation, they were also growing bored. The novelty of a live sadistic sex show was wearing off, especially as they weren’t allowed to participate. What was Dracul thinking, keeping these men cooped up with nothing to do, no goals to work toward? Or none that he knew of, anyway. He’d seen no meetings or planning sessions. All these men ever did was work out, eat, play cards, drink and act as spectators to Dracul’s personal porno.
The fucker wasn’t thinking. That was the problem. The guy had truly descended into madness and nothing mattered to him other than his revenge. It didn’t even seem as if he was interested in plotting the next attack against Alex. No, torturing Dafydd, and to a lesser extent Mateo, was taking his entire focus. Fine for him, but these humans were becoming more restless by the day and Merlin could practically hear their thoughts about how all of this wealth was sitting around unused. Whatever Dracul was paying them, it was pointless if they couldn’t go anywhere to spend it. They outnumbered him and, even with his supernatural abilities, he wasn’t invincible. It was only a matter of time before one or more of them tried to take him on.