A Royal Craving (30 page)

Prosper sat at the counter, waiting for Eamon to finish the stew he had prepared. For all his gifts and affinity with nature, the one time he had tried to use his gift to make human food, his companion had spat it out. Either he had been spoiled by Eamon's wonderful cooking or Prosper gifts were not meant for consumption.

He was glad the old cook had left Sienna's employ to move to their new house with them. He could have stayed with his Mistress, but her temper had proven greater than Eamon could cope with. He wanted a full, happy life, with employers he liked and could spend time with. That would not happen in Sienna's house.

“How much longer?” Prosper asked, tapping his fingers on the counter.

“Just ten minutes.” Eamon laughed, while gazing over the counter top and the dough he beat out. He had put in a fresh batch of bread, as well as their stew, as a tasty counterpart. “Food of this quality, like the Master and little Master prefer, does not happen in a flash,” he scolded, reminding him that their son had an equal say in what food he wanted to consume.

The one time Spencer had eaten an old favourite, from his human days, the baby had forced him to bring it back up.

That was the only side effect of the pregnancy that did not sit well with his lover. Morning sickness had Spencer running to the bathroom every two hours, in those first two months. It had settled since then, to only when he caught an unpleasant or overpowering scent.

Just as he opened his mouth, to complain about the wait, an almighty scream reverberated through the house.

Prosper rose to his feet in seconds, with Eamon close behind. They were both frozen, as they tried to accept the truth of that unearthly, torturous scream. Then, Prosper utilised his speed to get him from the kitchen, along the corridor and into the bedroom he shared with Spencer.

The new house accommodated his urgent need; there were a dozen less doors in the way, because the house had not been divided into suites as Sienna's had been. He managed to reach the bed in a few seconds, to stand by Spencer's side as he lay scrunched up on the bed.

Eamon raced in behind him.

“Prosper…it hurts,” Spencer cried, the moment he saw him. Then he screamed again.

Prosper stood there, terrified, running his hands through his hair. He ran his mind through the books he had read, to see if anything would take the pain away. Nothing came, but his companion made a soft moan of discomfort that dragged his mind from the horrors of his memories. Spencer would not suffer as he had.

“Shall I call Masters Parry and Davian?” Eamon asked, from his side.

They were living happily in their own house at the side of their own so they would not be too far.

Prosper nodded in his only reply and crossed to Spencer. “And Braddock. Call him and tell him to bring the machine. Whether it is ready or not,” he decided, at the last second.

He and Yalena lived in the summer cottage, on the grounds behind the house, so they were as close as his twin.

Prosper raced into the en-suite bathroom, to soak a cloth with cold water. He returned to place it on Spencer's forehead, but as his companion reached for what he presumed would be the cloth, he grabbed his hand instead.

“I am scared,” he whispered, sounding vulnerable and alone.

Pulling himself together, he moved onto the bed to lie beside his life mate. Prosper smiled and brushed the hair from Spencer's eyes, while fashioning clothes on his naked body. He made sure they were loose and easily removed, if this pain proved to fit his theory.

“You will be fine. Breathe with me,” he asked, lost for another option.

Spencer took slow, deep breaths, as tears fell from his eyes. He never took his hand from his stomach. “What if we lose him?” he whispered, fear making his voice shake.

Prosper could not bear the thought, after everything his companion had already suffered to get their child this far. It was a miracle and miracles rarely happened twice.

“We will not lose him,” he promised, though he did not know if he could live up to that promise. Right now, Spencer needed positively, not to have his nightmares come true. He needed hope and, God help him, so did he.

“All will be well. Little one, we will get through this,” Prosper vowed, as he brushed his hand over his hair.

Spencer's eyes spoke volumes; they were as scared as each other.

When a blood curdling scream escaped him and Spencer arched off the bed, into his arms, Prosper held him until it was over. He would never let go. And he would never let anyone hurt him.

“B
lood.”

Spencer's voice grew fainter, weak from the scream that erupted from him, without warning. He looked deadly white and Prosper worried the experience proved too draining.

Instinctively, he raised his wrist to his mouth and bit into it, tearing a large wound, to ensure Spencer would not have to do much. When Prosper held his wrist to his companion's mouth, lips parted to show Spencer's vampire teeth already extended and ready to do their job.

As soon as he noticed the trouble Spencer had lifting his hand to grab his wrist, Prosper rushed into a comfortable position. He sat against the headboard, with Spencer between his legs. In this position, with his lover's back to his chest, he could do the hard work and let Spencer reap the benefits.

“Here, little one.” He leaned his head against Spencer's dark brown hair, using one hand to pull it from his forehead, while he offered the other wrist to his mouth.

Shakily, Spencer wrapped long fingers around his wrist, leaning in and drinking from the wound. His actions were hesitant and lacked control. Something was definitely wrong.

The door burst open and a blur of colour accompanied Winston's startled barking. He had been sitting in his basket, doing as he should in a crisis, aware that Prosper was home and would take care of his Master.

The second those colours formed the solid flesh of Braddock and Parry, Winston quietened and began walking circles in his bed, to settle.

“Good boy,” Prosper praised him. He would let him up on the bed to be near Spencer, as soon as possible.

Parry paled as he reached the bed, standing stock still, as he stared at Spencer.

His lover gazed at their new companions over Prosper's wrist, while he continued to feed.

“I have the machine,” Braddock said, blinking away his surprise, to turn to the trolley he had brought into the room. It had a large monitor on the top shelf and cables leading into smaller boxes on the second.

Prosper had no idea what any of it did, but it looked twice as large as a month ago, when Braddock had reported another failed attempt to make it work, at the hospital he and Spencer ran.

Braddock fiddled with three dials and two cables, before advancing. He connected two sticky pads to Spencer's bare chest, under the shirt Prosper had changed him into and two over the baby bump itself. Then he turned to the monitor and flicked a switch.

Prosper had not known of such equipment being used in maybe a century, but guessed at the problem. It had been so long that Braddock could not remember how it worked or had been built and had trouble finding the necessary parts.

“At the moment,” Braddock began, pulling a lever on the side of the monitor. “It will diagnose the problem, give us information about the child and the progression of the pregnancy, but it cannot help us deliver the child or know if it is ready to be born,” he explained, rattling his nerves.

Prosper looked over at Parry and they exchanged a nervous glance. They knew the risks if they forced the child out too soon; it may never fully develop or may die instead of transforming during the turning.

“I just heard,” a voice panted from the hallway.

He and Parry turned to see Davian running into the room, then leaning over his knees. His twin put his hand on his life mate's back and waited for the human to catch his breath, before explaining.

“Ah!” Braddock muttered, at his side. He hummed as a long strip of paper came from the machine. His brow furrowed, as he read what it said.

Spencer let go of his wrist and gazed up, blood still on his lips, fear in his tear-stained eyes. “What is happening?” he asked, in a whisper.

Prosper did not want to disturb Braddock's reading, since the man liked to work in silence. He put his hands in front of Spencer and signed an account of what happened, including his father's warning about the machine's limitations.

His sign language was still rusty, as he spelled out the shapes and words that he needed, but it proved a damned sight better than it had been. He could only be grateful that he had a patient, understanding teacher, who liked to use positive reinforcement to help him remember.

“Braddock,” Prosper reminded his father-in-law that they were waiting for news.

Davian sank to the floor, breathing hard until when Winston appeared, to lie across his lap.

Parry sat beside him, probably because they must wait for news from Braddock's machine, before they could take any action.

Braddock frowned, as he turned from his machine, his head bowed over the paper he studied.

It did not look good. Before Prosper could react, Spencer's hands guarded his baby bump protectively.

“Our boy is having a fetus in fetu pregnancy. Which is rather impossible,” Braddock muttered, while scratching his chin.

“Tell me something I do not know. Spencer's whole life is impossible,” Prosper argued.

“Normally, in humans, this rare condition is the result of a twin embryo becoming trapped inside the body. It never develops beyond a foetus sized or shaped mass of tissue, so cannot develop into a living being,” Braddock explained, shaking his head at whatever he read. “Instead of the mass forming from a twin, drawn into his body, your DNA merged with Spencer's and has formed this child where there should not be the possibility of life,” he exclaimed, in confusion.

“Must you speak in medical jargon?” he protested, uncertain he followed.

“In plain terms, Prosper,” His father-in-law smiled. “Your DNA did something miraculous, the moment it merged with Spencer's. If you forgive the term, your condition created a parasite-like embryo that is equal parts yours and equal parts Spencer's DNA,” he continued, as he walked toward the bed and perched beside his son.

“Simply put, you are having a normal, healthy child, by all accounts. Only, the primordial germ cells, which are a type of stem cell used to treat illnesses, have formed into an egg cell within Spencer's body. When you…fertilised…that egg, it became your son,” he said, choosing his words carefully.

“This type of pregnancy had only been theorised upon before the world changed and medical journals insist it could only produce a female,” Braddock mused, while caressing his hand over Spencer's, as it lay over his bump. “The growth of the child, and your symptoms over these last six months, have shown us you are indeed carrying a son.” He laughed shortly, as though fascinated.

“Braddock!” Prosper shouted, in disapproval for the medical knowledge he basked in, while his own son suffered.

“Ah, yes.” He smiled apologetically at his son and stood. “The child is in distress, from a lack of room. As Spencer does not have a womb for the child to grow in, he is running out of space and air. We must deliver him now,” he said, with a decisive nod.

Prosper tried to ignore the mutterings of his father-in-law, as he stood over his machine, reading more read outs. There was something about the wonderful properties of the male X chromosome and the possibilities for providing children to vampires, even the males, due to the maternal information it carried.

Prosper slipped out from behind his companion and lay Spencer on the bed. Then, he sat to his side and spoke every word and more to his life mate, hoping the added words of reassurance helped.

“Your father says the child is in distress. We must deliver him,” he finished, gently brushing the hair from his long eyelashes.

“And how do we do that?” Spencer asked, logically.

“I do not know, little one. Just rest, while I take care of everything,” Prosper asked, intending to discover all he could from Braddock, before he let anyone near his lover.

“I trust you,” he whispered, catching his hand and drawing it to his lips, to kiss the back of it.

Prosper looked away, feeling undeserving of that unfailing trust. He left the bed and crouched beside his brother, smiling when Winston stood and rested his head on his knee. He patted the dog's head and faced his twin.

“This will not be easy,” Parry warned. “If what I understand is true, then I assume the child will be cut from Spencer's body,” he said, staying calm, while using the blockade Prosper's body provided to his advantage. As long as Spencer could not see what he said, he could not discover the frightening news.

“How can that be accomplished?” Prosper wondered, stroking Winston's back to relax his nerves.

“With difficulty,” his brother said, as though he had not already prepared for the worst. “We will have to feed before we begin, as it will take our combined strength to keep Spencer's body clean and sterile during the procedure. If Eamon boils plenty of water, that will help sterilise the blade, but we have no medical tools and it will take too long to return to the hospital for them,” he warned, with a look that suggested this would be the most unpleasant experience he had encountered, since he drank his father's potion.

“A kitchen knife?” Prosper speculated, ready to face this challenge head on. He had survived that potion, and could survive this. And this time he had his twin, his husband, his father-in-law and the most loyal friend he could ask for, in Davian, by his side.

“It will have to be.”

“What else?”

“Plenty of towels. Tabitha can take care of that. We do not have the energy to generate them, as well as the sterile procedures,” Parry reasoned, lifting his right hand to his mouth, to bite the tip of his nail, deep in thought. “I will help Braddock with the cutting and Eamon can keep Winston out of the room. Camryn can guard the door, to ensure no one disturbs us. This will be a delicate operation, Prosper, and there is no guarantee that the child will survive,” he continued with the warnings, while looking him in the eye.

“He must,” Prosper argued.

“You
must
prepare yourself. And prepare Spencer,” his twin disagreed. “He is young, yet. You can try again, if you must. But if we do not do this now, they may both die. There is no guarantee Spencer's vampire instincts will save him from this, if it is his fate,” Parry explained, regretfully.

“The cross.”