13
OH, damn it. The sudden surge of panic was an unwelcome disruption. For the last forty-five minutes they’d listened to music and enjoyed casual conversation, the city skyline of Asheville rising before them as they descended from the mountains.
However, now she remembered. Due to all the new experiences the day had brought, as well as Niall’s impatience to get going, she’d forgotten to bring the blocker, and she was due for it. She cringed inwardly, recalling Lord Brian’s stern admonishment. Never forget to take it at the proscribed time.
Damn it, damn it, damn it.
They had a full to-do list. If it was only about her dress, she might say something, but they had a list of items for Evan. She was not going to inconvenience her Master by making this a wasted trip. It would be okay. There had to be some residual effect from one blocker to another. She’d manage.
She turned her attention to the passing scenery. The garish tourist traps were of particular interest, with everything from chain saw-carved wooden black bears—similar but not as well-done as Henry’s—to dream catchers fluttering in the wind, feathers dyed in bright colors.
“Okay?” Niall’s hand was on her shoulder. He’d picked up on her worry. Since it was noon, Evan would be well asleep, but he’d likely deduced it on his own. The Scot was quite intuitive.
“Fine. Just . . . I like the quiet at our cabin.”
Our came out without thought. Home was wherever her vampire Master was, but she realized that it felt like home to her. Despite her uncertainty of how best to serve Evan and Niall, the short span of her time with them, she realized she’d embraced the peace and quiet pace of their existence like a drowning swimmer reaching land. A sanctuary.
Brushing his knuckles over her cheek, Niall turned into the parking lot of a camera shop. “I do, too. I expect serious sexual compensation for the sacrifice o’ taking ye to a mall, muirnín.”
“But I didn’t ask you to take me,” she pointed out.
“I’ll still expect payment.”
When she imagined what type of payment she could give him, a warmth expanded in her lower vitals, helping to dispel the tension about the blocker. It was going to be okay.
Niall let her trail after him in the camera shop, though they weren’t there long, since the shop already had the items Niall had ordered on a previous trip. The next stop was unexpected. It was a lingerie store, with a variety of fetish offerings discreetly offered in the back. Once again, Niall picked up a boxed package. He held the door for her, taking her back outside the shop before he explained.
“Evan anticipated ye going to the wedding with us, so he had me order a couple things several weeks ago for the postwedding celebration. Nope.” When she reached for it, he held it over his head. “Ye cannae open it yet. I’ll want to see ye in it, and then we’ll be arrested for what I’ll do to ye, right here.”
She eyed the package as he set it in the back. “What kind of postwedding celebration requires something like that?”
“The wedding hosts are a Master and Mistress. There’s a private party the night after the wedding for guests who like bondage play.”
Her jaw dropped. “You and Evan . . . play with humans?”
“A vampire and servant blend in that environment, no? And dinnae worry, ’tis easy compared to vampire dinners. They believe in rules, pain thresholds, boundaries. All that silly stuff,” he added with a wink.
He parked them outside the mall. When he helped her out of the car, something he insisted on doing, he retained her hand. “Your fingers are cold, muirnín.” He tucked them under his arm. “Ye should have brought a sweater. I should have brought one for ye.”
“You’re not required to take care of me,” she reminded him. “I’m fine.”
He opened the door for an elderly woman in a wheelchair, being pushed by a friend, and nodded courteously to them. Then he gestured to the tent provided by his arm, indicating Alanna should precede him. “I’m not going through a door in front o’ a woman unless a threat’s waiting on her,” he said when she hesitated. “And in a women’s clothing store, I’m far more worried about my well-being than yours.”
He was irreverent and irrepressible. She liked that about him, very much. Especially when, as she moved under his arm, a high enough arch she didn’t even have to duck her head, he caught her waist to stop her, bent and kissed her throat, an incredibly intimate caress, his fingers tight on her hip.
“It is my job to care for ye, lass. In every way.”
Her insides dissolved at the heat in his eyes, his voice. She had to stay in place for a blink of time, a little dizzy from it. She’d gripped his side without realizing it, and he gave her a brief, firm embrace before nudging her gently into the store, discreetly squeezing her backside.
“So the wedding and proper reception are an evening thing, more formal, but also outdoors, on a Southern plantation. Should be warm, even with it being fall. I’m thinking the less fabric the better.” He gave her a wink.
“Of course,” she said dryly. She fingered a garish, colorful muumuu. “Nothing absorbs perspiration like a serviceable cotton.”
“You’re killin’ me, lass. Killin’ my fantasies, right here.”
She nudged him with her hip, and he bumped her back. “So what would my Master prefer?”
“Whatever ye like. Pick some other things as well. After the wedding, we’re going tae an art colony. It’s not hiking terrain, so ye can wear skirts and such. They have a lake, so I’d prefer a bikini.”
“I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but you’d look ridiculous in one.” She wasn’t used to teasing others, but he tended to be infectious, especially when she was rewarded with a broad grin.
“Evan can buy whatever ye like, as long as you aren’t the type of lass needing five-hundred-dollar shoes. Lyssa also gave him some funds for your care, but he willnae use those.”
“Why not?”
He gave her a level glance. “Because you’re ours to care for, lass. Evan may not always seem like it, but he has as much of a man’s sensibilities as any of those ‘lord’ vampires ye know.”
Actually more so, to her way of thinking. She turned her attention to the rounders of clothes, all the more determined to find things Evan would enjoy seeing her wear. Niall as well.
She was an efficient shopper. In fifteen minutes, she’d found several suitable things to try on. Niall had wandered over to the nearby lingerie area, where he was studying a wall of mannequins in an array of lacy bras and panties. Despite the selection being far more tame than the fetish store, he seemed just as fascinated. With his hands tucked in his back pockets and rocking back and forth on his booted heels, he was amusing and captivating passing female shoppers and store clerks.
Coming over to him, she shot him a look of mild reproof. “It’s a good thing you’re handsome. Otherwise, they’d call security to remove the creepy man from the women’s underwear section.”
“I’m happy ye find me easy on the eyes, muirnín.” He gave her another wink, then studied her choices. His silent inspection made her feel uncomfortable, as did the look he raised to her face.
“You’re doin’ it again,” he said. “Evan wants ye to pick out things you like. Consider this your two hours, aye?”
She didn’t want to wear things that Evan and Niall didn’t like, so why couldn’t she pick the things she was sure they would? Evan wanted her to express her desires, because he said it increased their pleasure with her. Why couldn’t that work in the opposite direction? Even though he’d been teasing, of course Niall would prefer her to wear a string bikini. Imagining the way he’d look at her when she wore it heated her from head to toe.
That hard knot moved up under her ribs. The store seemed overly warm. She ran a hand under her hair, lifted it. She was now nervous and out of sorts, almost teary. Why couldn’t they let her be who she was, instead of trying to make her into something different?
Because you aren’t a true servant. You’re a failure. You don’t know what you are . . . lost little girl . . .
She’d moved away from Niall, was at the store’s interior opening to the rest of the mall. Crowds of people moved like ocean waves, crashing into shore. She shrank to the wall, a secluded corner formed by the display mannequin. She envied the doll its mindless stoicism.
Niall was still with her. He put his hands on her arms. “It’s okay, lass. Easy.”
“No, it’s not easy. I can’t do this.” She didn’t want to sound angry or frustrated. That wasn’t her. But she wanted to push away, she wanted to run, and she never ran from anything. In reaction, she sank down to the floor, a defensive, folded position, her knees under her chin, fingers linked on them. It made her smaller, more walled-up, less noticeable. She needed to breathe.
“Aye, you can. Ye can do anything.” He squatted on his haunches before her, shielding her from curious eyes with his wide shoulders. She never caused public scenes. She stared at his knees.
“Help me, Niall. Help me make sense of it.”
He paused. She focused on the rise and fall of his chest, tried to let the steady rhythm restore the same to her.
“If ye truly ken there’s a difference between wantin’ to do it because ye feel obligated, and doing it because pleasing him pleases you, then that’s different. Don’t ye think?”
She lifted her eyes to his face. “Is this what Evan called cheating?”
He lifted a broad shoulder, his lips quirking. “Not so much, because you’re the more honest of the two o’ us. Ye’ll decide if what I say is true or not. Ye like him, no?”
“I don’t . . . liking or not liking him makes no difference to a servant’s actions.”
“Perhaps it does in this case. Ye like him. You’re thinking o’ what he’d enjoy seeing ye wear, and that makes you feel guid, makes you anticipate what he might like. He’d be fine with that. Long as the feeling’s true.”
Maybe her reaction had alarmed him, such that he was merely soothing her, but his words did make sense. “It is. I do . . . like him. Is that how you do it . . . how you make choices? Do you dress for his pleasure?”
“Aye. My platform heels and baby-doll nightgown drive him insane with lust.”
She tried to cover her startled laugh, but he took her fingers away, held both her hands.
“’Tis just shopping, lass. Picking out a frock. Let’s get on with it, aye? A lad loses a pint of testosterone for every minute he’s in a woman’s clothing store. If we dinnae go soon, I’ll be eyeing the purses and stockings.”
Nodding, she let him help her to her feet. He plucked the first dress she’d chosen from her hands. “Why did ye think he’d like this one?”
“The splashes of color on the skirt are like marks from a paintbrush, so the flared hem will set them off well when I move. The pattern on the bodice is from a Monet print.” She gave him a small smile. “And the neckline will show cleavage.”
“Sounds bonny, but this one will show off even more of everything.” He plucked a leopard-skin print tube dress off a rack. The short skirt had a hip-high slit in the side. “With these earrings.” From a display on top of the rounder he unhooked a pair of large orange plastic ones, shaped like stars.
“You are teasing me.” She elbowed him in the hard stomach, made him put the dress back.
“I’ll go into the dressing room and watch you put it on.”
She arched a brow. “What if Master commanded you to go into the dressing room with me, but you were only allowed to sit in a chair and watch, not touch me? What would you say to that?”
First she’d teased him about the bikini, now this. She wasn’t sure who’d taken over her mouth, but she knew who took over her senses in the next second when his tawny gaze kindled. He leaned down, his lips nearly brushing hers, and she stopped breathing, except for the necessary pleasure of inhaling him.
“I’d say ‘Master’ isnae around to stop me from doing whatever I like. I’ll gladly take his punishment later.” His arm around her waist, he drew her to him, putting his lips back to that same spot on her throat, nose pushing aside her ponytail so he could tease her with his tongue, tracing her collarbone. He dropped his touch, taking a firm grip of her ass to press her against him. He was hardening under his jeans. Even without Evan providing the conduit, she could visualize what Niall wanted to do to her in the dressing room.
“We’re in a public place,” she whispered, clutching his upper arms. If it was Evan, she would provide no resistance regardless, but the few functioning brain cells she had left told her Evan might not be overly pleased to have to get them out of jail.
“I’d f*ck you right here, to make it clear you’re taken property.”
Despite her best efforts at decorum, the weight of his desire swept her away, and not just his alone. You’re ours. He’d said that, and she felt it now, a sense of duality that she wasn’t sure he even realized was part of his personality, so closely connected to the vampire’s. He’d f*ck her for himself, but also for Evan, staking his claim right alongside his own. Was it because even in his dreams, Evan registered a moment like this and made his presence felt in his servant’s mind, such that Niall’s subconscious and Evan’s were almost one and the same?
Niall’s aggressiveness made her feel . . . powerful. Sexy and desirable as well, and not just because she was groomed to be that way. It was how they made her feel, not her endless supply of beauty products and stringent exercise regimen. Was that what Evan had been trying to tell her?
Together they were teaching her to express passion in a way she’d never experienced before. Unsettled, she extricated herself from Niall to gather up the dress and her several other choices—but not the leopard print. When she hurried toward the dressing room, Niall was sauntering after her, casual as a stalking tiger. She would have discounted it as more of his sexual teasing, except she noticed the flick of his glance between her path and those of others in the store. She disappeared into the fitting area but then, thinking about it, came back out. Niall was leaning against the wall, waiting on her.
“Problem?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Am I in any danger here? Or are you are worried about me doing something I shouldn’t?”
“You’re not capable of doing something you shouldnae.” The corner of his mouth quirked. “Just best for me to keep ye in sight. We want to keep ye safe, muirnín.”
She thought of last night, of how they’d showed their understanding of the demons she fought. Niall knew he couldn’t protect her from those fears, but with his steady tawny gaze and the weight he gave to the last words, he was telling her he’d protect her from everything he could.
She’d been Stephen’s possession. Any protection he’d offered her had been about that, not about her. On its face, it sounded the same. But Stephen had never given thought to her safety, just her preservation for his needs. She’d understood that, accepted it. Even so, she had a perverse desire to put her arms around Niall and squeeze him as tightly as her heart was being squeezed.
Hastily, she withdrew before she embarrassed herself.
There were several women in the dressing area. She could hear the rustle of clothing being removed or adjusted. One had a friend with her, because they were comfortably chatting behind the louver doors. Sliding into an empty stall with pale pink walls and a velvet bench, she hung up the dresses and pulled off her top, toeing off her shoes to remove her jeans.
Since it was her first choice, she tried on the paint splash dress first. Though it fit, she could see where she could make it better, altering the upper body fit with her seamstress skills so the off-the-rack dress was more suited to her figure and more pleasing to her Master and Niall. When she was done, Niall wouldn’t miss the leopard-print dress.
Executing a spin, she confirmed the expansive hem flowed the way she’d expected. She’d need some accessories, but department stores were always having discount sales on such items. She’d find something suitable that would minimize the time Niall had to endure female shopping. The thought gave her a small smile. She’d smiled more these past few days than she had in thirteen years.
The cramp hit her so abruptly her forehead hit the mirror when she doubled over, cracking it. Putting the heel of her hand there in reflex, she crouched, counting her way through it. Breathe, breathe. When she’d been in the grip of such full-blown spasms, Debra had taught her ways to manage the pain. It didn’t stop them, but it gave her a focus until it passed. Only it hadn’t ever passed. Not until Brian figured out those injections.
The headache exploded, a battering ram against her brain. It was the symptom that indicated Stephen was back inside her mind. He could reach down into her soul, twist it . . .
She’d never resisted his invasions, never thought about having the strength to resist his ability to scramble or plumb her mind. Her lack of resistance was her penance for betrayal. Now, though, battling to think through the pain, she thought if she could stay clear, hold the line long enough between them, Daegan would get a better grip on where he was.
Evan had forbidden her to do that. No, he’d forbidden her to not take the injections. She’d forgotten purely by accident, so this was different.
Women rationalize . . . She choked on a despairing sob. She was remembering his voice, not hearing it, because he would not be strong enough to override Stephen’s roar.
Think about shopping, the to-do list . . . But that would tell Stephen exactly where she was. She couldn’t endanger Evan and Niall. He would kill them for sheltering her.
She was his possession. Not to keep safe, but to destroy.
She should have told Niall to take her back. She’d made a fatal error. The next cramp knocked her to the floor. She was gripping her head, certain her skull was about to split.
“Help . . . Niall.”
He was already there. She’d woken Evan, she was certain. The wave of shame came with nausea. Niall held her as she jacked up from the floor, threw up into her own lap, into the beautiful silk skirt of the dress.
The thunder in her head drowned everything else out, but she was vaguely aware of Niall speaking to a half-dressed woman in bra and skirt, a matronly woman with steady eyes who knelt by Alanna when he rose. The press of his hand on her shoulder was gone too quickly.
She must have called his name, for the woman’s response penetrated the fog. “It’s all right, honey. He just went to get your medicine. I’m a nurse. It’s all right.”
He was going to drive to the cabin and back? Lost little girl . . . Adam dead and gone . . . You should just kill yourself now. Save your Master the trouble.
She froze. The idea that Evan would think such a thing hurt her deeply. But she wasn’t supposed to feel emotional pain, unless that was what her Master wanted.
You said it yourself. You wished I’d killed you . . .
It wasn’t Evan. She clung to that thought. If she concentrated hard enough, she could almost imagine she was hearing the artist, even as a far distant voice.
Kill yourself, kill yourself . . . you know you deserve death. I command it.
“Help . . .” She was gasping, back down on the floor, holding on to it as the world spun. She heard the woman saying they needed to call an ambulance, but Niall was telling her in a remarkably calm voice it would be all right, that she just needed this shot. He had the silver box of syringes. He’d brought a dose with him, planning for any eventuality. That was what a good servant did. She, on the other hand, had forgotten to take it.
The searing burn in her thigh was welcome, despite the pain. Usually she bit down on her tongue, rocked until the scalding fire subsided. Now she cried out, unable to contain it. The cramps and headache increased exponentially. The effect would last only seconds, but was intense enough to feel like an hour.
Stephen howled, then he was yanked out of her mind and sent away, like a cartoon character kicked and sent sailing over distant hills. Over those beautiful blue and gray mountains she saw out the front door of the cabin.
“She’s fine. She just needs a few minutes. Water’s splendid, aye. Chocolate if ye have some.”
Niall had her cradled against his chest, was stroking her hair. As coherence returned, she looked down at the lovely colors, splashed with blood and her breakfast.
“Niall . . .” She couldn’t believe how plaintive she sounded. Like a lost little girl, just as Stephen said.
“It’s all right, muirnín. Why didnae ye say anything? Never mind, Evan told me. You didnae want to be a bother. Because this is so much more convenient. When you’re back on your feet, I’m going to skelp your arse.”
She made a noise of regret, and he muttered a curse, held her tighter. “’Tis all right. Not your fault. None of it.”
Of course it was her fault. But she didn’t have the strength to argue with him about it. As the pain ebbed, the shame intensified. He wouldn’t let her dress herself. He buttoned her shirt, got her jeans started and had her hold on to him as she stood and he brought them all the way up, even managing the zipper and button.
“I’m all right,” she said hoarsely. “It’s okay. I can finish.”
“You’re the color of a snowbank, lass, and your hands are shaking. Let me help ye.”
He couldn’t imagine how much she hated those four words, but she was leaning against him, so she fell silent, stood in stolid misery while he finished. When he touched her face, she wouldn’t lift it. He didn’t push it, simply folding her into his body and holding her.
“It’s all right, muirnín. You dinnae have to be f*cking invincible.”
She shook her head against his chest, but to deny or accept it as truth, she didn’t know. “Please don’t carry me. I want to walk out of the store.”
“All right.” He pushed her down on the velvet chair. “But only if ye stay right there. I’ll go pay for things and come back for ye.”
He pressed the chocolate bar and water the store manager had brought into her hands. As she gazed at them, he picked up the dresses. The damaged one had been tucked into a plastic store bag.
“I haven’t tried on the others,” she said. “So they should be put back. I’m sorry about the first one.”
Niall had made it clear that Evan didn’t waste money, and she herself had always been prudent with her Master’s funds. It made her all the more ashamed.
“The leopard print is one-size-fits-all, if ye’d like to reconsider that one. Spandex ’tis God’s miracle.”
She grimaced wanly. “I’d go to the wedding in a bedsheet first.”
“Ach, see? You thought you’d never be able to tell us what ye want for yourself.” His eyes remained serious, though. “You in a bedsheet would be prettier than the prettiest bride, lass.”
He held up one of the dresses, a silver gray fabric with a beaded diamond bodice and a fitted satin skirt that had a tight grouping of rosettes at the hem. “I’m buying this one. I like it, and I know Evan will. If it fits wrong, we’ll return it on the way to the wedding.”
“I can alter it.”
“Aye? Guid. Because my dress slacks have a hole in the side seam. I held it together with duct tape on the inside last time I wore them.”
Despite her condition, the thought of him attending a formal event with his pants held together with tape horrified her. He ran a finger down her cheek.
“Stay in that chair,” he ordered again, and then disappeared.
Typical man. She had no shoes to wear with the gray. She doubted he or Evan had a pair of stilettos or strappy sandals lying about. The one helpful thing about being in a large household with other women was they could borrow from each other. The thought wasn’t enough to make her miss them, though. Stephen’s domestic servants would have turned on her, same as the InhServs had.
As was appropriate, she reminded herself. She didn’t blame them, but it had hurt. The InhServs were a tightly knit corps, and she’d counted on that bond, even if she couldn’t call her relationships within it friendships.
Nibbling on the chocolate helped, but the shaking in her hands and quaver in the pit of her stomach were going to take more than the blocker and the chocolate to dispel. They weren’t related to the physical effects of Stephen’s attack.
This is it. The thought had exploded in her mind with that first cramp. Stephen had been found, Daegan had staked him, and only a few minutes of her life remained.
Then she’d felt Stephen’s presence and heard his voice. For the millisecond before the agony began, she’d been swamped by relief she wasn’t about to die.
Though she did fear being chained to Stephen eternally, she’d accepted that as her sentence for what she’d done. But now, after being with Evan and Niall, she feared other things. She didn’t want to leave them. As ludicrous as that sounded after a mere handful of days, it was the truth. Niall had even stated it baldly. From the first time both touched her in her delirium, Evan painting on her skin, Niall speaking those soothing words to her, she’d become theirs, taken into their care.
She’d picked up on enough of what the fight between Niall and Evan had been about that she knew Niall wanted the vampire to let her be whatever she wanted to be, since her time was so limited. Even so, the Scot exhorted her to choose the dress she wanted, following his Master’s direction. That meant some part of him believed Evan was right, because Niall wasn’t the type of man who did anything against his principles, whether vampire’s servant or no.
Who are you, Alanna? She remembered Evan’s question. Betraying Stephen had ripped her heart from her chest. She’d been paying for that choice ever since, but Evan had understood the deepest, most shameful truth about it. No one had asked her to say she was sorry for it and no one would. But if they did . . .
She wasn’t sorry. Not now, not ever. Not through all eternity, chained to Stephen’s soul.
Niall had returned. Setting the shopping bag down, he squatted in front of her, placing his hand on her knee. His touch was warm, strong. She was still disoriented, so she responded as trained. She parted her quivering knees for him, a female servant’s instinctive response to a Master. His gaze heated, registering why she’d done it. Serve Niall as you serve me. It was as easy as breathing to her.
“Why did you ask for the chocolate?” she said, trying for a normal voice.
He ran his finger along the jagged line of the chocolate bar, the place where she’d bitten it. It transferred some of the sweet to his finger and he stroked it on her bottom lip. When she licked it off, she caught the pad of his finger at the same time. She sucked the rest off his skin. His other fingers settled on her throat as he watched her. “Your pulse is still rabbiting,” he observed in a low rumble. “It’s okay, lass. You’re all right.”
For now. “If something does happen, I want to say . . thank you. To you and our Master. I don’t know if he was compelled by Lady Lyssa to take me into his service, or if it was his choice, but you’ve both been . . . I’m glad I’ve had this experience.”
“He approached her, lass. The moment ye calmed under our hands. The way you’re calming now.”
He was right. His other hand had been stroking her arm, her hip, caressing her thigh, and she’d stilled beneath that possessive, soothing stroke.
“As far as the chocolate, Brian said there’s something in it that would help if you missed an injection and had a bad reaction. It makes sense. Just like my clever hands, it calms most women down.”
He was teasing her, but she couldn’t smile yet. When she looked down, his hand slid along the length of her thigh. She parted her legs farther, caught her bottom lip in her teeth as he stroked between them, a methodical caress of her p-ssy beneath the denim.
“That can calm a woman down as well,” he noted in that throaty growl. “As well as stir a man up.” Taking his hand away, he brought it back to rest on her knee, but kept his weight forward, his grasp firm, telling her he liked her legs spread for him. His attention swept over her burning cheeks, the moistness of her lips. “Time to finish our shopping. Much as I’d like tae pursue that dressing room fantasy, we’ve caused enough drama for now.”
Relief swept through her. “You’re not taking me back?”
“You’d have an aneurysm if Evan’s list wasnae finished,” he noted. “If you’re up to the groceries, we’ll do that as well. But ye get more color in your face in the next thirty minutes, or we’re headed back, no matter what. You can rest in the car at the shops where I can see you from the storefront. Plus, there’s no reason to drag ye into the hardware store for the ropes and clips he’s wanting.”
“Ropes?”
Niall grinned. “No wild ideas, muirnín. He has a couple cliffs he’s wanting to scale. Even a vampire doesnae relish falling off a mountain.” He cocked a brow, glancing down at her open thighs. “However, I like the idea of tying ye on our bed and tasting ye until you’re writhing like a captured soft rabbit. Or”—his gaze came back to her, a little more ominous—“tying some knots in it and applying it to your ripe arse. I’m going to do my best to put it in his head, since ye nearly scared the rest o’ my life off me.”
“And because you’d like doing it.”
“Some vampire preferences tend to be contagious.” Giving her a wicked look, he helped her to her feet. Despite his teasing, she noticed he kept a strong arm around her. “Let’s go finish our chores.”
Finishing Evan’s list left her with a false sense of satisfaction, because Niall had to do a lot of it. Her color had improved, but it took time for her strength to return. She requested a brief stop at a shoe store, however, where she found a suitable pair for the gray dress, as well as some pretty matching baubles for her ears and throat. Niall frowned at her choices, but he paid for them, shaking his head when she asked him if there was a problem.
As they pulled into the grocery, their last stop, her curiosity motivated her to ask again. “Did I offend my Master or you with the jewelry? Were they too excessive?”
“Hardly. They were three for fifteen dollars. Evan isn’t as wealthy as Council vampires, lass, but he does have enough money to buy you decent jewelry.”
When he put the Rover in park, she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter if the Council assigns me to the most wealthy and powerful, or to the poorest. I am still only a servant, Niall. Our Master’s money is not mine, and I would never act as if it was. From what I know of your lifestyle and the infrequency of formal events, the costume jewelry I bought is sufficient.” As well as how long I have to wear them.
He reached out, touched her mouth. “Do you have anything that’s yours? That ye brought from your life before bein’ an InhServ?”
The question was unexpected, but she took it in stride. “I was promised to the InhServ ranks at birth, Niall. I had no life before that.”
“Your parents never gave ye a doll, or a toy?”
“Of course. When I was little, I was given toys to stimulate my mental growth, and they did everything necessary to ensure I was a happy, well-adjusted child. And Adam . . . whatever toys Adam had, we also shared, because we were twins, and it was just natural to us.”
She looked toward the grocery store. “We should go in. It will be dark in a few hours, and Evan will want us at home.”
“So you’ve no personal possessions? A memento or trinket?”
She continued to gaze at the storefront, aware of his eyes upon her. “I have no possessions, Niall. Every piece of clothing or jewelry, every book I read . . . everything is to serve my Master. It all belongs to him. I know you don’t understand that.”
In his room, there was a carved wooden chest, no bigger than a music box. She’d peered inside it, not to invade privacy, but just to familiarize herself with the things that she might be required to know about the household. There was a carefully preserved sketch, a couple of letters, an antique pocket watch. A tattered Bible. There was also a heavy pewter ring with a Scottish thistle design that she suspected Evan had given to him as a gift. The sketch appeared to be of Niall’s children, a boy and a girl.
His experience was different than hers. That wasn’t something that ruffled her, but for some reason his persistence did. “Did you ever see Adam after he was assigned?”
“Yes. A few times, when we were at the same events.”
“They didn’t make you . . .” His brow creased in affront at the idea.
“No.” She gave him a sharp look. “Even vampires have their limits. Adam’s Mistress wanted the pleasure of taking both of us to her bed, because we were twins. We resembled each other quite closely. Stephen allowed it, but our focus was on her, serving her desires. She didn’t order us to interact with each other. We merely focused on her pleasure.”
She could tell he wanted to ask, What if she had? Something in her expression must have warned him she wasn’t up for that topic, because he shifted focus.
“What was she like?”
“Beautiful. Kind, as vampires go. She seemed fond of Adam and he seemed . . .” She shook her head, stared at the grocery store marquis again. “He cared a great deal for her. He . . . loved her. When he died in her service, I’m sure he was glad to follow her into the afterlife. It’s what every servant desires, right? That ultimate act of devotion.”
She remembered the night they’d pleasured his Mistress. How, as dawn’s light came, they lay on either side of her sleeping form, staring at each other. Adam had laid his hand on his Mistress’s hip and Alanna had overlapped it, holding hands. The last physical contact she’d had with him.
She’d felt his death, even though they hadn’t been at the Council Gathering. Stephen, not yet serving on the Council, had planned to attend, but he’d had other business that delayed him. She’d been on a plane with him, headed into a landing in Mexico City because Stephen would stay there overnight to discuss business opportunities with other vampires.
The severing of that twin connection had been brutal, Adam suddenly not there. Just a blast of fear and pain. Even her severing from Stephen had not felt like that. Physically, it had been worse, but emotionally . . . Her twin gone, forever. And then that night, Stephen had made her service twelve other servants in front of a dozen watching vampires. Testing her loyalty to him.
That had worked out well for him, hadn’t it? She curled a lip in derision, then quickly erased it, appalled at herself.
Niall’s hand had covered hers, but she drew away. “We need to get groceries,” she said. Shoving open the car door, she didn’t wait to see if he was following. She found a cart, pushed it into the brightly lit environment of the store, populated with everything from harried mothers with cranky children to aimlessly wandering tourists. Before she’d rolled to a stop before a display of cantaloupes, Niall’s hands slid onto the cart handle on either side of hers, his body pressed up behind her, caging her against it. “I’ll drive, you shop,” he said against her ear, his lips brushing it, capturing a strand of her hair to tug.
As she closed her eyes, he put his head down in the curve of her shoulder and neck, a gesture of comfort. “It’s all right, muirnín,” he murmured. “I know how much ye loved him. I had a family, too. I ask too many questions.”
She shook her head, but was glad he let it be. She’d loved Adam, yes. But she remembered her stabbing envy, seeing the connection between him and his Mistress. She’d been so pleased by their service to her that night, she’d told Adam if he wanted his sister to become part of her household, she would do what she could to make that happen.
Alanna had known it was impossible. A lower-placed vampire having two InhServs, and Stephen giving up the only one he had? But that didn’t matter. It wasn’t her choice. When Adam asked her if she would like that, she’d given him the only answer she could.
“I serve my Master. I follow his will, not yours or my own.”
Adam’s face had darkened with disappointment, though she knew he understood. Maybe. He’d never comprehended what being an InhServ was about as completely as she had, and yet he’d ended up with what she’d dreamed being a vampire’s servant would be about.
She ducked out from under Niall’s arms, afraid of how much she wanted the feeling he was offering her. She selected fresh fruit, some herbs, and moved briskly through the aisles, choosing what both men might like.
When she was steady enough to tune back in to her shopping companion, she found Niall had made his own additions to the cart. Lifting a bag of candy, a Chef Boyardee pizza mix and a party-sized bag of cheese puffs, she gave Niall a look.
“The pizza is like comfort food from the gods, believe me. It will put more meat on your bones. And ye might need more o’ the chocolate.”
“We should have given you a bigger lunch before taking you grocery shopping.”
A woman passing them with a pair of active toddlers in her cart chuckled. “Never take them shopping on an empty stomach. You learn early, darling.” She gave Niall an appraising look that said junk food wasn’t causing him any problems. In return, Niall offered her a grin that made the mother blush and trip over her feet like a girl.
“Stop it,” Alanna said sternly.
Niall cocked a brow at her. “Orderin’ me about, lass?”
His lazy look made her flush as well. Not dignifying that with an answer, she turned back to her shopping. By the time they reached the checkout, they had items that suited both their tastes, and Niall had offered some useful suggestions for the meals she planned for the two of them. She admitted his teasing and companionship had balanced her once more, as if the episode earlier hadn’t happened. She was even looking forward to trying on the silver-gray dress, seeing how it would fit.
“I’m glad you’re smiling, more, lass,” he told her when they left the store. “It lights up the whole world when ye do that.” Which just made her smile again.
On the way back up the mountain, he used the same strategy that he’d employed to get her to choose dresses to choose music. He played country music, singing along gustily in his abysmal baritone until she snatched the controls from him. Since she’d never considered her music preferences, she spent most of the trip listening to different selections and deciding what she liked. He of course teased her for the romantic ballads she chose. However, once she listened to a few of those, the charged emotions in the lyrics, she returned to Niall’s safer theme song playlist, where the music didn’t make her feel quite so . . . wistful.
Placing her temple on the window glass, she closed her eyes. That was a mistake, because she instantly recalled that cold terror when she thought it was all going to be over . . . or Hell just beginning. She counted down, a mind-wiping meditation to calm herself, dispel the thoughts. She could only embrace each moment.
“Then catch the moments as they fly, And use them as ye ought, an: Believe me, happiness is shy, And comes not aye when sought, man.”
She’d spoken the words softly, but now turned her gaze to a surprised and touched Niall. “Robert Burns,” he said.
She nodded. Forcing her mind to blankness, she let herself drift, imagining the mountains turning to silent guardians in the descending darkness, watching over them.
“Do ye have a picture of him?” Niall asked after quite a few miles had passed. “Your brother.”
They were beyond the city lights, so now only the headlights provided any illumination of his features. From the steep grade and winding path of the road, they were close to the turnoff toward their cabin. “Ye draw so well,” he added, “I thought if ye didn’t have a photograph, ye would have sketched him.”
“Anything you own can be taken by your Master, Niall,” she said wearily, hoping she wouldn’t have to keep saying it over and over. It made her feel oddly bleak. “That’s the InhServ oath. He’s in my heart, but my Master owns that as well.”
“No, muirnín.” Niall looked toward her, his brown eyes boring into hers with a sudden intensity that held her still. “That’s the one thing they dinnae own outright. That one, they have to earn.”