Alun ducked his head. “No, I don’t suppose so.”
“And we have this like nine-hour plane ride. Can we sit next to each other?”
“If you want.” He smiled shyly once more.
“It’s getting late. People will be sleeping for most of the trip. Mind if we lie out together?” He was pushing it…and knew he was. Yet, he couldn’t help it. Clichéd as it was, he might not survive the assault and he was greedy for as much time with Alun as he could get.
Alun didn’t answer right away. He waited until they’d reached the SUV they’d been assigned to ride in to the airstrip. “I think…that would be lovely.”
“Are you sure? No pressure. I promise I only want to feel you next to me.”
Alun looked at him with his sorrowful eyes and there was something a little lighter, a bit happier, in them than usual. “Yes, I’m sure.”
Chapter Eight
“Please, don’t do this.”
Merlin didn’t look at Mateo. He was afraid that if he did, he’d break down and make a loud confession that someone would hear or the surveillance would pick up. He couldn’t afford to take the chance. If he blew it now, he wouldn’t be able to help the others mount their rescue. As it was, he hadn’t had time to check to see if any response had been sent by Val. He’d been forced to spend the rest of the afternoon at Dracul’s side, basking in the glow of his new status as the Mad King’s favorite acolyte. After that, it had been babysitting duty—which had been fine with him. It got him out of the throne room and spared the baby having to witness Andri’s voluntary sexual degradation. God, the two of them made the perfect pair. Watching Dracul and Andri do anything made him want to vomit.
Now it was time to throw Mateo to the wolves. The boy had struggled when Merlin had come to fetch him and was still doing so. Clearly he didn’t trust Merlin not to hurt him, and that was hardly surprising. It was also pretty dicey that Merlin would be able to pull off the plan he’d formed during the long hours of the afternoon. If he succeeded, he’d both save Mateo and advance the ball for the rescue. It was huge fucking ‘if’, though. The mere thought of what he was going to have to do in the next few minutes made his guts watery. While he’d often fantasized about growing into a fierce warrior, the reality of it being about to happen was nothing like those long-ago imaginings.
As they approached the room where the mercenaries spent time entertaining themselves, Mateo dragged his heals. “Please, Merlin, stop.”
Fear made him short-tempered. He yanked Mateo onto his toes and got into his face. “Shut the fuck up! You’re not helping anything.”
Mateo’s eyes filled with tears. Ignoring that, Merlin pulled him through the open doorway and into the lions’ den. Well, hyenas would be a better term. Jackals, too. Scum of the earth. Except—score—there were only eight of them. That was a happy turn of events. He’d expected more. Apparently homophobia was stronger than boredom. Not all of the sex-starved psychos were interested in abusing a boy. He could work with eight. And while most of the gathered men started whistling and clapping when they saw the two of them, one guy tossed down the cue stick in his hand and grimaced.
“Fuck this. I’m out of here. If it’s not real pussy, I’m not interested.”
“Don’t be stupid, Karl,” another said. “It’s a hole. Two of them. We can tag team the slut.” Karl simply shook his head and left in disgust.
Then there were seven. Merlin kept hold of Mateo’s arm as he maneuvered them to one side of the doorway. He wanted the guy tucked away where he could protect him without boxing himself in too much. His heart pounded and his stomach clenched. He thought of the castle in Wales and how many times he’d had to pretend that he wasn’t afraid. He knew how to throw up a mask of bravado, to bluff his way out of trouble. It wouldn’t be enough this time. There would be blood, but that was hard-wired in his DNA.
I can do this.
He let go of Mateo at the same time that he shoved him into a corner. Then he let his fangs descend. “Change of plans, boys.” Opening his mouth wide, he ran his tongue across his teeth. More than one of the men took a step back and they all went into high alert.
“I’ve decided that I’m not going to share. The cunt’s mine. If you want to get your rocks off, pair up with each other.”
The men shared looks for a few seconds before one of the braver ones stepped forward. “Fuck that. The boss said we could all have a go at him.”
Merlin shifted his weight to the balls of his feet and kept his arms loose the way Val and Malcolm had taught him. “I don’t care what the Master said. He’s not here now, is he?”
“Yeah, but—”
“Do you want to whine to him about how I’m keeping the toy for myself? I’m sure he’d be devastated to hear that you aren’t having any fun. Go ahead. I’ll wait. Or, no, I won’t, because you’ll never be coming back. He’ll tear into you like you’re an after-dinner mint.”
It was easy to be confident at this point. He knew that what he said was true. The Mad King didn’t like being interrupted and was absolutely uninterested in a petty squabble among his minions. In fact, Merlin was willing to bet his success tonight would be viewed by the asshole as a mark of maturity. He’d be amused by Merlin’s audacity—or not. This night might end with a reduction in his complement of mercenaries, would definitely do so given the way the air stirred among the now-silent men as they considered his words and their next move. Dracul might not appreciate that outcome.
Can’t be helped.
The first attack came from an unexpected source. It wasn’t the loudmouth, but a quiet, almost-skinny man who simply put down the baseball he’d been tossing and came charging at him. He punched without pausing, a wide swing that was easy to avoid. The man was likely fast for a human. Merlin was faster. He was past the guy in the blink of an eye, grabbing his arm and twisting it. The sharp snap was followed by a bellow. There might have been more angry noises, except as Merlin brought the broken limb up behind its owner’s back, he grabbed his neck with his other hand. He’d intended to merely snap that, too, but in the last second, something primeval took him over.
He latched on to the nape and tore into it. The fresh blood flooded into his mouth. And, sweet Queen, how glorious it was. It was far better than the microwaved stuff he’d been fed with his recent maturity. As the warm, salty liquid flowed down his throat, it was like an itch being scratched that he’d never realized he suffered from. He spat out the flesh while tossing the body to the floor. He briefly faced Mateo, whose eyes were wide with horror. Merlin dared to wink at him before whirling to face the others.
“That was fun! I wonder how much better the sex will be?” He licked his gory lips. “Who’s next?”
A ripple of unease swept the room. Six pairs of eyes flickered between him and their dead comrade. Merlin could practically see how they weighed what to do next and he could actually hear their hearts beating wildly and the rush of blood through their veins. There was fear there, but anger, too. He hadn’t quite convinced them to give him what he wanted. There would be more fighting, more blood. If they rushed him, it would be difficult for him to stay on top, except that kind of thinking got a person dead. Val had said you had to believe you would succeed without a hint of doubt or you were doomed.