A Royal Craving (23 page)

S
pencer looked at his little dog on Parry's lap, and rubbed his ears as he tried to focus on the good things in his life and not recall the things that hurt most.

“I believe you came to see me for a reason,” he reminded Parry, who had suitably distracted him.

“Oh, yes. I have been thinking about the party,” Parry said, as soon as he looked up, changing the subject. “Winston has settled in and knows everyone in the house, but there is one issue we forgot to explore,” he explained.

Spencer looked at his pup, recalling the thought that had woken him from a restless sleep; Winston did not know Prosper by sight. He hoped the dog recognised his scent from the rooms he lived in.

He frowned, as he tried to think of what Parry meant and whether it could be the same worry he harboured.

“We did not consider the music,” Parry revealed. “It will be loud, until you can feel it. But I am uncertain he can function as well with the volume. Dogs hear higher pitches than a human or vampire,” he explained his worry with a sigh.

“I did not think of that,” Spencer confessed, glancing at the poor little dog. In one way, he did not want to hurt Winston's tender ears, by allowing the party music to be too loud. But he did not want to miss the opportunity of joining the party, either.

Being his King's companion meant he must socialise at the event. He
must
be able to feel the music, in case anyone asked him to dance.

Parry lay his hand on Spencer's knee, capturing his attention. “Perhaps we could practice? We can help him become accustomed to a gradual increase in noise,” he explained his brilliant plan, hopefully.

Spencer nodded, silently. He loved that helping him prepare for the party was enough to keep Parry distracted from Davian's insistence to remain a servant. They would work the matter out between them, once Parry learned not to keep his feelings hidden.

“That sounds like an excellent plan,” Spencer agreed, trying to calm his thoughts.

Parry pushed Winston from his lap onto the sofa and left the room.

“Winston, this is your chance to prove yourself. But tell me if it is not working,” Spencer asked the little dog. He smiled when Winston rubbed the side of his face against his knee, lovingly.

Their experiment worked exactly as Parry planned. He and Spencer danced and talked while the music played.

Winston sat at the side of the room, a short distance away, until needed.

The first four times they were interrupted, each one followed by an increase in volume, Winston did his job perfectly. He nudged Spencer's leg and crossed to their visitor.

By the time the music became loud enough to be heard through the entire house, they were stunned to find that Winston still managed to do his job, this time jumping up to gain Spencer's attention.

“That dog is a marvel,” Parry admitted in approval, as he left Spencer in the middle of the room and crossed to the gramophone to shut it off.

Their experiment was over.

He slipped the record back into its sleeve, as he heard Winston barking.

When he turned, he found Spencer leaning heavily on the sofa, his free hand pressed to his stomach.

Parry clapped his hands and Winston came running. “Good boy. Stay here,” he ordered, waiting for Winston to sit by the door. Once out of harm’s way, he raced directly to Spencer's side, catching him in his arms. “What is wrong?” he asked, desperate to help but unable to, until he knew what had happened.

“It hurts,” Spencer confessed, a single tear rolling down his cheek.

“Come…sit,” Parry advised, as he tried to steady him onto the sofa.

Halfway there, Spencer rushed to stand up. “I cannot. It hurts,” he complained, now using both hands to press against his stomach.

Parry had no idea what to do, but guessed they required more information. “When did it start? Just now?” he wondered.

“I had a few pains, while we were dancing. I thought it might be because I did not eat when I woke.” Spencer sighed, admitting his own stubbornness.

Parry had left the lad for two minutes, over his first meal of the night and had not noticed that Spencer had not eaten it. He chose not to say anything in reprimand. He opened his mouth, to urge the human to lie on the sofa, until Spencer bent with a gasp of surprise, doubling over.

Parry cursed his feelings of inadequacy and rushed to the door. “Jael!” he shouted, refusing to leave the room while Spencer was in pain and alone.

He turned and heard Winston crying. “Come here,” he called, patting his thighs until Winston ran over, glancing back at his owner. “Fetch Jael. Bring Jael to me,” he asked, gesturing to the hallway. He hoped the poor dog knew what he meant.

He let out a sigh of relief when Winston took off, barking. Whether he brought Jael did not matter; someone would follow the dog.

Parry turned to Spencer, racing over to his side, in time to catch him as he let out an almighty scream. His delicate human body arched impossibly, until he feared Spencer would break.

Moving behind Spencer, Parry tried to straighten him, before he did some damage.
The moment the scream ended, his body gave way.

P
arry picked up Spencer's still body and placed him on the sofa.

It felt unnatural to have a panic attack and be unable to feel his heart beating wildly, but that was the curse of a vampire — no heartbeat.

“You will get through this unharmed. I promise,” he vowed, wondering if he should call Prosper, to demand he come home.

He brushed the hair from Spencer's forehead, which beaded with sweat. He watched as Spencer panted breathlessly and a stream of tears fell from his eyes. He could not speak; Parry could see that for himself. Then the lad's eyes rolled back and he passed out.

It was probably better that way.

“Just rest. Jael will be here soon,” Parry promised, glancing at the door, only to notice that he had been an incompetent fool and closed it. He straightened, intent on opening it for Winston, when he heard scratching from the same direction.

“Good boy. Let me pass.” He heard Jael say, as the door opened and rushed in with a medical bag. “I thought as much.” She sighed, when she saw Spencer.

Parry had never been happier to see her. “Go to Prosper's room. I will bring Spencer. He cannot stay here all night,” he protested. He would put the lad in his own bed, where he could rest.

Jael nodded and took off, with Winston keeping pace at her heels. It seemed he thought he could help and, with current events, Parry would accept whatever help he could get.

It did not take any time to lift Spencer's lifeless body and hasten to Prosper's bedroom, where Parry lay the lad on the bed.

Winston jumped up and snuggled in beside his Master, while Parry paced the floor.

He would not call Prosper with no news. And now that his panic dimmed, Parry thought of the tasks he should have accomplished before Jael arrived.

“He needs blood,” Jael said, capturing his attention.

Without a word, he sped out the door and along the corridor toward the kitchen. He did not take notice of Eamon, baking nearby, as he whipped past. He grabbed three bags of stored blood, that Prosper had left for his companion, in case of an emergency.

Thank his lucky stars that his brother had always been a forward thinker.

Parry returned to his twin's suite as quickly as he could. When he got there, he found Jael inserting a tube into Spencer's arm and moving the coat stand by the bed.

He watched, as she hooked one end of the blood pack to the coat stand and the other to the tube coming from Spencer's arm. She had prepared a blood transfer, the human way.

Parry was happy to have her. He would have given his own blood in panic and Prosper would have murdered him for it. “He needs Prosper,” he argued, pacing, as he waited for answers.

Having Prosper's blood meant their life mate bond would be untainted by another's essence or thoughts. But Spencer really needed to wake up to find Prosper there. He needed the comfort only his life mate could give.

Just as Parry needed comfort only Davian could give him. He wished he could go to him, but he could not leave Spencer. And it was unfair to call the servant's bell and expect Davian to answer. He knew his lover would, but did he want his human to worry needlessly?

Parry sensed from Jael's careful movements that she did not want to do anything dangerous. She ignored him and used calm, gentle hands to check Spencer for signs of illness or injury. She pushed the tips of her fingers into his collarbone, his sides and abdomen.

In the background, Parry rushed into the bathroom to run the tap and let the cold water fill a bowl, that he dipped a cloth into. When he returned, he put the cloth to Spencer's forehead. Parry knew Spencer did not have a fever, but needed something to do.

When Jael moved her hands over Spencer's abdomen a second time, she jumped and withdrew, breathing fast.

“What is wrong?” Parry asked.

“Something moved,” she explained, frightened.

When she flinched at another movement, Parry pushed her aside.

His own panic subsiding with Jael's inadequacy, Parry moved into her place. Something pushed at his fingers and, instead of recoiling, he frowned and pushed again lightly. It hit back. With curiosity, he moved his hands to the opposite side of Spencer's abdomen. The same circumstance occurred and he had his confirmation.

He thought he would never see the day. He never thought he would have a chance to meet 'Braddock the Bastard'. He never thought Prosper would fall in love or allow himself to get close to another being, to find his life mate. Spencer had made those possible and now he had done something miraculous.

Parry took a deep breath and looked up at Jael, with a swell of pride.

“He is pregnant,” he revealed, caught somewhere between disbelief and overjoyed. “The baby must be starving,” he realised, feeling around Spencer's abdomen to identify how the baby lay.

When he looked up at Jael, to see her stunned and immobile, he sighed. “The baby is forming as a pure vampire child of old. He will need blood. Send word to Reagan to bring Prosper home or not leave without at least four pints of blood. Spencer will need enough for two people,” Parry explained.

When Jael made a move toward the door, he stopped her with one last order.

“Do not tell them of his pregnancy! Spencer will want to do that,” he ordered.

Jael rushed off and Parry lifted his eyes to Winston, who lay there, staring at his Master. “He will be safe. You did well to warn me.” He thanked the little dog for alerting him.

Now Parry knew the situation, he acted as though he dealt with this each day. He imagined the shirt disintegrated, displaying Spencer's bare chest. He next used his thoughts to remove the tight trousers pressing against Spencer's abdomen, beneath the blanket. He replaced them with loose shorts, to allow his body to cool naturally.

Spencer came out of his faint with a low moan. “Parry?” he asked, frowning.

“I am sorry, little brother, but it must be done. I cannot feel properly through these layers,” he apologised.

He hated risking the child's safety, by using his vampire gifts, but had no other choice. If he did not move quickly, Spencer would be the one to suffer. For all he knew, his use of his gift in changing the lad's drab work clothes into a suit had begun this sequence of events in the first place.

“What is happening?” Spencer asked.

Parry gazed at the confused child, many years younger than him. “You are carrying a vampire child,” he informed him, with a happiness he had not felt in a long time.

He was about to have a vampire child in his family. The first since Spencer's own birth.

Spencer smiled and cried at the same time. “Really?” he asked, breathlessly.

“Truly. It is a wondrous gift, Spencer. And I thank you for allowing me to witness it,” Parry said, unable to control his emotions.

This would be the pinnacle of all that had ever happened to a vampire in hundreds of years. And he stood here, witnessing it firsthand.

“That is why, I am afraid, I must undress you. I need to feel how the child lies,” he apologised, placing his hands on his abdomen.

“How do you know this?”

“Prosper lost himself to fiction novels, but I preferred vampire history,” Parry admitted.

“You studied it,” he guessed, in realisation.

“Hence, how I know of your father,” he agreed, pushing tenderly on his abdomen and offering an apologetic smile, when Spencer winced at the pressure. “The baby is fine. It lies well and is alerting you to its hunger. I am afraid it can be a painful experience, until the child comes to recognise your pain signals.” He sighed, as he thought of how long that might take; each child was different.

Parry sat on the edge of the bed and watched as Spencer ran his hands over the place where his child lay.

Parry could not believe it. Spencer was still human, despite his ancient vampire DNA, and pregnant; the first to carry a vampire child in centuries. Parry had always known, from the moment Spencer mentioned wanting a family with Prosper, that his brother would do anything to make it happen. But this could be nothing but natural and beyond his understanding.

He had thought it would take a few years and some scientific investigation, before Spencer could have his dream. But now Spencer carried Prosper's child and Parry could not have been happier for them. He could not wait to see Prosper's face when he found out.

“I do not care about the pain. I am just happy he is in there,” Spencer confessed, as though he did not care how long it took his child to become accustomed to his emotions.

It would not be a pleasant experience and Parry hoped Spencer did not have any romantic notions about the heritage of his blood rescuing him from the pain.

A vampire child grew at rates well beyond a human child. Spencer's body must adapt to something it had never been built to experience.

“This is all I have ever wanted, since I was a boy,” Spencer said. “When my parents told me I had been adopted, I thought my real parents did not want me. That I had not been loved,” he admitted, running his hand over his abdomen. “From that moment, I wanted a family of my own to love; to be a better parent than mine were. But I never thought it possible, because I could not love a woman.” He shook his head and stared at his hands.

“I understand,” Parry promised, placing his hand over Spencer's, relieved to see him happy. “I never thought I would see this day. But you were born for this, Spencer. Every instinct I have tells me that you were always meant to be the one; who loved my brother, who brought him out of the darkness, who washed away his shame. You were meant to be a part of our family, to give Prosper this gift,” he swore, uncertain how else to put it.

Spencer was a miracle and worked miracles of his own, nearly every day.

Spencer beamed, with tears still in his eyes and hugged himself and his child. “She was right,” he professed, with reverence he did not understand. “I told Prosper that she would be. She swore I would meet a man who led me to the path for a better future and he did. I met Prosper and he showed me what I must do. I waited five years and he returned, when I needed him to,” he professed.

Parry did not follow.

“The prophetess promised that if I chose the right path I would find love for a man and have a child of my own flesh. Now it is all true.” Spencer held his stomach tight. “Do we know how long he has been here?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Parry apologised, realising Spencer had not been wrong to revere the prophetess for her gifts. If she had foretold this day, then she must be mighty indeed. “And we will not determine sex until you have grown. We can determine from your growth and feeding habits whether you are having a boy or girl and how old it is,” he explained.

“I do not care. He can be a boy or girl or anything he wishes to be. I just want him to be real,” Spencer insisted.

“I have sent Jael for more of Prosper's blood and I am afraid you must struggle through it,” Parry explained, deciding to delve into what Spencer would need to know.

“I have had it before,” he claimed. “It will be no trouble.”

Parry stalled in his explanation, stunned into disbelief. No ordinary human could consume vampire blood without some resistance. Even on a turning, one must be coerced into completing what they started. “In this quantity, it will not turn you, because the child will consume it all. It is hungry,” he admitted, choosing not to ask questions while Spencer was in a delicate condition.

He turned his gaze onto the bag of blood Jael had set up. He would need to quicken its speed in a moment, to ensure the baby fed well and calmly.