14
IT left her with a mix of emotions when they pulled back into the cabin site. Evan was on a fairly precarious perch, along the northern rocky slope above the cabin. Niall muttered something about how nice it would have been if he waited until he had the ropes to start scaling cliffs. “Impatient bugger.”
To Alanna, it looked like the vampire was evaluating the sky, which still held various dark streaks, residue from the long-past sunset. Since he didn’t acknowledge their arrival, Niall nodded to Alanna, indicating they would unload the car and leave him be.
However, after she put things away, she couldn’t shake a sense of foreboding. When Niall was occupied, she slipped out to figure a way up that slope. Before she could set her foot to a likely path, though, Evan’s voice came into her head, clipped and short.
I have no need of you right now, Alanna.
Yes, Master. I apologize. Chagrined, she turned back.
Of course, if he’d be consistently one thing or another, maybe she could keep up with how she was supposed to act. She immediately chastised herself for making her Master responsible for her proper behavior, but confusion was an acceptable reaction. He’d given her what couldn’t be called anything but what it was—affection, attention, approval—none of which he was required to do. She’d been acclimated to doing without those things from her Master. But getting even a taste of it was like a drug.
She remembered her resentment toward Adam, the brusque answer she’d given him. Two months later he was dead. She was mature enough to know that one moment didn’t destroy their love for each other, but she regretted it was the last face-to-face conversation they had. And not just because she loved him. It was as if that simmering regret held a wealth of other messages for her, important things she couldn’t decipher.
She sat down on the path. Evan wanted her out of his field of vision, and here, sitting among the silent trees, she accomplished that. She should cook something for Niall’s dinner, for Evan’s later sampling. She also hadn’t completed her two hours of “me time” yet. Maybe she’d draw a picture of Adam. She’d tear it up of course, because it was one of the InhServ’s top rules, not to have any possessions. But why would anyone other than her want a picture of a servant’s face? A servant who was gone.
Putting her head down on her knees, she freed her hair, letting the wind blow it over her shoulders and forward so it hid her face. Her shields against the terrifying reality she was facing were thin, but since she’d been taking the blockers, she’d been managing them better. However, today’s error had cracked them back open, such that the fear kept coming back at her like a boomerang, refusing to let her be, especially with no current occupation for her thoughts.
The waiting was the worst part, wasn’t it? Everyone feared the unknown, but she feared certainty. She would be with Stephen for all eternity.
“I’m afraid,” she whispered to her knees. “I don’t want to be, but I’m so afraid.”
If she sat here a moment longer it would overtake her, paralyze her. So she jumped up, hurried down to the cabin. When she reached it, she came up short, because Evan was there. How long had she been sitting on the slope, and how had he passed her without her knowledge?
Niall was putting his camera equipment away. As the vampire turned toward her, she didn’t need any exceptional intuition to know he was not in a good mood. In fact, he looked angry. Shifting her glance to Niall, she didn’t get any clues. In fact, he was watching the vampire as warily as she was.
“Master? May I do something for you?”
Evan studied her, his mouth a harsh line. “Strip. I want it all off.”
She lifted her hands, began to slip the top button. “Now,” he snapped.
She yanked open the rest, her fingers trembling a little, and pulled the shirt off her shoulders. Unhooked the bra as she was toeing off the shoes, pushed the jeans and panties off her hips. Niall had made her indulge a second pair of earrings at the shoe store to wear with her current outfit, and she deposited those on the pile of clothes, heedless of whether they’d tumble off into the grass and be lost. She could feel Evan’s eyes on her like two brands.
Closing the distance between them, he clamped his hand on the back of her neck, turning her toward the picnic table. A brief arm around her waist and he’d put her knees on the bench, pushing her facedown to the table. “I said everything.” He yanked the clip from her hair and tossed it away.
“I’m sorry, Master.”
“No talking. Grip the other side of the table, arms spread as wide as they’ll reach.”
She did it. Her cheek pressed against the rough wood.
“Spread your knees and lift your ass. Hold that position.”
She obeyed. Her breath was shallow. With Stephen, punishment had been performance. He’d never punished her in private. Ironically, except for that one unforgivable betrayal, she’d never done anything to merit punishment, though of course with vampires it wasn’t necessary to do anything, if they enjoyed dispensing it. Stephen hadn’t.
From what Niall had said, she knew Evan enjoyed the pleasures of dispensing punishment, but it was obvious this was not that. She wasn’t frightened; her heart was pounding and tears were close to the surface because she’d done something to displease him, and she couldn’t bear that thought. She wanted him to punish her, to make it okay, so that he would go back to his thoughtful discussions with her, the half smile, the unexpected yet entirely welcome caresses . . .
Like now. She let out a tiny noise of hope as he spread her hair over her shoulders, stroked it so he was also stroking her skin beneath. When he swept it off to the side, it pooled on the table by her right shoulder. She closed her eyes, shuddering again as his fingers trailed down her spine.
“Niall, give me your belt.”
She swallowed, fingers spasming on the table. She’d never been struck by a belt, and Niall’s was a thick leather strap.
“Count them off, Alanna.”
“Yes, Master.” Her voice was quavering, but she made up for it by lifting her ass higher, spreading her legs another inch, increasing the strain on her hips, because she wanted to make it clear she would take whatever punishment he desired.
The first stroke was a hard, stinging burn. She bit back the cry, but strangled out the count. “One.”
Each one was worse, because he stayed in the same target area, hitting no more than an inch above or below the last stroke, so he was overlaying them in no time. By the time she reached ten, she was sobbing, fingers digging into the wood. But she bit down on her lip so hard she drew blood and kept raising her ass, anticipating by his rhythm when the next one would fall. She would prove her devotion to him, her acceptance of his Mastery. She would win his forgiveness by showing she submitted to his will in all things.
Though she was in pain and heartbroken that she’d disappointed him, he’d also taken away the fear she’d felt, sitting on the mountain path. She’d whispered I’m so afraid because she felt so alone with all of it, but this . . . She’d affected Evan enough to make him angry. Maybe it wasn’t his intent, but with every strike, it felt like a part of her was being bound more firmly to him and Niall. Perhaps firmly enough that her entire soul wouldn’t go to Stephen when he was killed. Maybe a vital splinter would be left here, with them, and that would make the rest bearable.
“Twenty-five.” She barely got the words out, and when he stopped, she wasn’t aware of it immediately, holding the pose and ready to count out another.
“Stand up, Alanna.”
It wasn’t easy, but this time he didn’t snap at her. His voice was stern, but not angry. Her body was stiff, aching, and the edge of the bench had left furrows in her knees. Turning to face him, she kept her head bowed, her hair curtaining her face, teasing her breasts and stomach, her smooth mound.
Evan didn’t speak, just stared at her long moments. She kept her hands at her sides, waiting, wondering if she should kneel, but he’d said to stand. Her ass was still throbbing, and she knew there’d be bruising, blood vessels exploded under the skin. With Evan’s second mark, she would heal faster than a human, but she would still see and feel those marks tomorrow.
“When I am done with you,” he said, “you will go inside and sit in the straight chair at the living room desk. I want it turned around to face the room, so Niall and I can see you. You will keep your back straight, your ass pressed down fully on the seat, and your knees parted, ankles hooked around the legs. I want you to feel your punishment.”
“Yes, Master.” That ache in her throat made her words thick. Strands of her hair close to her face were damp from tears. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Please let me make it right.
He muttered a curse. Plunging a hand in her hair, he yanked her head to the side, so her chin was pressed against her left shoulder. She cried out as he sank his fangs into her throat, a ruthless penetration where pain was obviously intended to be part of the experience. He had her waist in an iron grip, and she needed the support. As he drank deep, she had to grip his rigid biceps because the dizzying rush of blood made her knees buckle. While his long fingers spread out to press into her sore buttock, his other hand continued to grip the opposite side of her neck and her hair, holding her fast to him.
He was demanding, passionate about his feeding. His hand slid around her body, leaving her buttocks to push between her thighs. As he rubbed her in a knowledgeable way that had her arching up against him, it pressed her breasts into his chest. She was already wet, had become aroused while he punished her, because that was in her nature as well, so she made a grateful mewl as he sank his fingers into her, scissored against that slickness.
It wasn’t the first time she’d been lost in pleasure to the point of physical disorientation, but this had started on the emotional end and then incorporated the physical. Longing. The word stuck in her mind as he hiked her up his body and sat them both down on the picnic table, her straddling him as he continued to feed, now holding her backside with both hands, kneading her against his stiff cock beneath his jeans. He wasn’t gentle, mixing the pain with the desire, but that wasn’t why it was excruciating.
He controlled the pace, working her against him, even as her response built, and she wanted to rub against him more fiercely. He had his arms over hers, so she could only cling to his shirt along his rib cage, wish that she could get her arms around his shoulders. She still had her face pressed to one. Even after his hand had left her neck, she’d obeyed the indication that he wanted her to stay in that position.
Then he moved a hand back between her legs, furrowing in to find her wet folds and manipulate her * with a demand that went along with the aggressive feeding. She thrust herself against his touch in a coital rhythm, no thought, just desire taking over. She hadn’t been able to spare a thought to what Niall had been doing during her punishment, but when Evan pushed her upper body back, her shoulders were caught in Niall’s sure hands.
Evan’s steel gaze was tinged in red, pure predator as his eyes coursed down her body. If she’d had any clothes on, she was sure he would have laid his hands on her shirt and simply ripped it, tearing the bra open beneath it so her breasts would spill into his waiting hands. Niall held her still as their Master leaned forward and licked away the blood he’d allowed to drip down her collarbone onto her breast. His fingers were still scissoring inside her when his fangs sank into the ample curve. She cried out, her body shuddering from the overload of feeling, but then he pulled his fingers from her cunt.
“Please, Master . . .”
She’d never begged without it being commanded. But the loss of his touch, her heart so open, her soul so afraid, her mind whirling at this sensual assault, seemed to make it essential.
Niall’s arm banded across her shoulders as he moved closer, his body pressed up behind hers. As his hand slid over her hip bone, a noise broke from her throat, anticipating. She arched up violently, her breasts and jutting nipples on bold display for her Master as the Scot’s thick fingers thrust into her, his thumb working across her *. Where Evan was relentless, breathtaking skill, Niall was strength and power, overwhelming. She was helpless in their hands.
A growl startled her, because it wasn’t human. Evan’s head lifted, and she followed his gaze to the edge of the clearing where a pair of wolves, attracted by the scent of blood, had appeared. Seeing humans, they were uncertain, but Evan made up their minds. Baring his fangs, he snarled at them with the clear message that they’d stumbled onto a much bigger, scarier predator. They were gone, their gray pelts melting into the brush.
Yes, Evan might be a less arrogant, less ego-driven vampire. But in that moment, she knew it didn’t make him one less bit savage predator than any other vampire.
As if nothing had disturbed his concentration, he returned his attention to her, a thrilling and terrifying thing. Cupping her breasts, he suckled the nipples, then bit down around one again, making her moan with the pain, but he wasn’t as ruthless this time, and it was mixed with all the other sensations. She was hurtling toward orgasm. “Master . . .”
Wait. Evan’s command was as daunting as his snarl at the wolves. But Niall’s fingers were diabolical, as if the servant was determined to make her break. She panted, she wailed, she shuddered, she fought it with all she had, until tears were coming from her eyes and her nails dug into Evan’s sides through the shirt. He watched her with those still vampire eyes even as his mouth teased and nipped, made her nipples aching and full. Leaning back from her, he opened his trousers, adjusting to free his cock, thick and ready, the flesh a pale marble in the dim light of the clearing.
As he straightened, Niall’s fingers pulled out, and he returned his grip to her arms. As Evan took hold of her hips, the Scot lifted her as well, the two men taking her up to mount the vampire’s erect cock. Evan pushed her down in a slow, indescribable descent, her body stretching to take him, even as it convulsed in that state of near climax. Niall’s fingers flexed on her upper arms, his mouth pressing against the tender flesh below her ear.
“Hold here,” Evan said, his voice remaining in that growl, fangs still showing. He pulled her hips in close, so that her throbbing * was pressed to their joining point, his fingers tightening on her bare ass as she quivered. “Don’t you move.”
Niall had withdrawn, was doing something behind her, but she held her Master’s gaze as he coiled his hands in her thick hair, making her be still as he caressed her. She couldn’t help it, her internal muscles were making little clenches on his cock, and he gave her an admonishing look.
“Behave.”
“Trying, Master. Hard . . . not to move.”
He looked down her body, where another trickle of blood had crossed her navel. Now he dipped his fingers there, smearing the blood in a wide slash across her abdomen, then lower, over her bare mound, teasing her * as she gasped and shuddered, continuing to hold his gaze, since that was what he seemed to desire.
It was what she wanted, too.
He wasn’t angry anymore. His order was driven by lust, the truth of it in his eyes, in the deep invasion of his cock. So she needed, had to say it.
“I’m sorry, Master. I’m so sorry.”
“You should be.” He squeezed her ass, making her whimper. “Be quiet. Feel.”
He spread her buttocks as Niall’s well-lubricated fingers dipped into her rear entry, oiling her up for penetration. Her shuddering increased. Having the two of them inside her . . . she wanted to devour Evan’s mouth, wanted to press her breasts against his chest, but she had to settle for staying still in his grasp, holding her captive to his desires as he registered her every reaction.
Niall set his hands alongside Evan’s. He’d removed his shirt, but she could feel the scratch of his open zipper on her buttocks, suggesting that, like Evan, he’d simply opened his jeans to ready himself for her. She was naked and vulnerable, underlining her full submission, her surrender to them.
She couldn’t remember ever feeling so much of her heart involved in a coupling with her Master or anyone he commanded to take her.
“You’ve done this before, muirnín?”
No. She’d never done it like this before. Never felt this way. But then she realized what Niall was asking. Anal penetration. He was making sure he wasn’t going to hurt her, determining how slow he needed to go. When the tears spilled out, Evan caught them with his mouth, cupping her face. She couldn’t help it, she rubbed her lips against his jaw, wherever she could reach, and then he turned his mouth to hers. She licked his fangs, cleaning off the blood, and then moaned as he sealed his mouth over hers, sweeping her away in the kiss.
She’s done it before, Niall. Just never like this. Join us, neshama. Close the circle.
Niall pressed a kiss to the tender bone at the top of her spine. She marshaled enough brain cells to push against him properly, to allow him to break through those muscles. But she had to fight with everything she had not to come, because the dual stimulation, this sudden claiming by both men, pushed her right over.
Once Niall was in balls deep, she was panting like a dog, trying not to move. Her only lifeline was the hold she had on Evan’s sides, the stuff of his shirt balled in her fingers. But Evan kept her still, stroked her hair off her neck, making it tumble over the arm Niall had secure around her waist.
“You will never forget that blocker again, Alanna. Not now, not ever.” The vampire’s gray eyes bored into hers.
“No.” She couldn’t manage anything more coherent than that. “No, Master.”
“I don’t care if we’re in the middle of a meeting of the whole damn Vampire Council, if it’s time for you to take it, you’ll tell me and it will be done, you understand?”
Niall drew back, and then thrust in, hard. Since he was a well-endowed male, the effect was immediate and intense, particularly when Evan exacerbated it by thrusting up higher inside her. She was filled, crazed with sensation and discomfort both. From Evan’s uncompromising expression, she knew he could make it worse, would make her climax in the midst of excruciating pain and devastating pleasure both.
“Yes, Master. I understand. I’m sorry.” She was spinning like a top in her own head. The anger and passion she’d sensed from Evan now came from Niall as well, in his punishing thrusts, the grip of his hands over the vampire’s. She’d assumed Evan’s anger was about the risk to which she’d exposed them by opening her mind to Stephen, or the inconvenience of her having such an episode in a public place, but his words and his actions told her differently. They were angry that she’d harmed herself. They were punishing her for being careless with her own well-being.
That perverse sense she’d had, that Evan’s punishment was binding her even closer to them, now made sense.
The thought was a quick, jumbled flash, too many distractions competing for her attention, the largest one being the climax threatening to crash over her. Evan changed his angle, rubbing his head inside her, making her gasp, and then pushed in deep once more.
“You don’t go until I say so.”
She cried out, as close to climax as she’d ever been as he began to pump himself into her, using her to sate his lust, commanding her to hold back. Niall was moving as well. Their complementary rhythm built into harder and harder thrusts, until she was crying and begging, but her discipline and their will held her on that knife edge, just short of the release she wanted more now than she’d ever wanted anything.
When Evan started to come, he pulled out, despite her involuntary cry of protest, the clench of her muscles on emptiness. He spurted some of it across her belly, the underside of her breasts. When he gathered the cream on his fingers, brought it to her mouth, she sucked on him, stared at his taut face with hungry eyes.
Then he thrust back inside her, making her scream at the pleasure of it. He kept f*cking her until she was whimpering in distress, because even as he was ejaculating he was changing his angle and rhythm so that every time she was close to coming, he pulled her back from the edge. Niall came then, his hand flexing on her shoulder, pelvis slapping hard against her ass as he thrust, holding nothing back. Evan had her braced against his body, sandwiched between them.
No . . . please . . . She was throbbing, head to toe, so needy for a climax . . . for something. As good as her control was, she knew she wouldn’t have been able to stop herself. The two men had worked together to keep her balanced precariously on that cliff as they enjoyed their own release. It was terrifying evidence of their own control and self-discipline, the power they held over her.
When Niall pulled out, Evan lifted her off him, ignoring her soft pleas. He pushed her down to her knees. Clean your Master with your mouth, Alanna. No hands. Only your mouth touches me.
She was shaking so hard, even harder than she’d been in the store. Those tiny whimpers came from her while her p-ssy throbbed. Still she obeyed, her heart about to explode, swamped by a feeling that echoed what she’d experienced when listening to those romantic ballads. Something terrible was happening, and yet it was something she wanted as well. She was wild, out of control, cleaning him on pure instinct, licking and suckling the still hard flesh, tasting his seed, wanting to keep tasting him, touching him, staying in contact with him. She wanted to curl between his feet and stay there always.
He stopped her at last, taking a grip on her hair again. “I’m sorry, Master. Please let me know what I can do to earn your forgiveness.”
“Tell me what you want, Alanna.”
“You, inside of me, while I come. Niall, touching me . . . together. Close . . .”
She stopped, startled, her eyes snapping up to his. But Evan merely nodded and lifted her from the ground, bringing her back onto his lap once more. She thanked God for vampire virility, as he sank his hard cock back into her sensitive, tight tissues. Niall’s strong hands helped until she was fully, blissfully impaled on the vampire once again.
While Evan started a slow flex, thrust, retreat motion, sliding inside her in a way destined to rip her apart, Niall took a seat on the bench next to their Master. His brown eyes were intent on hers as he cupped her jaw. She was lost, Niall’s expert kissing ability taking her into another plane of existence while Evan kept her grounded, guided her movements. The men both held her around the waist, arms overlapping. Evan’s other hand steadied her hip while Niall’s cradled her face.
As she pleaded into Niall’s mouth, one of her hands was on Evan’s chest, gripping him, the other on Niall, holding on to them both, a triangle as she rose and fell. The pleasure was thundering toward her like the end of the world. An end she could embrace.
Evan broke her kiss with Niall then, turning his servant’s face toward him to capture his lips with his own. As he did, she reached up with one shaky hand, tracing their jaws, the way they dueled, lips wet, Evan’s tongue plunging in to tangle with Niall’s. Niall nipped at her fingers as she dipped into the joining point between them, then they were back to her again. Evan devouring her mouth, pushing his cock in deep once more while Niall started kissing her throat, licking the place Evan had bitten her, suckling her tender flesh. Evan was working her on him hard enough her breasts quivered with each downward impact. It made her nipples ache.
Come for me, Alanna.
She broke on the last syllable, her eyes wide and lips stretched like a wild animal’s, a flush running the length of her body. She ground herself down on Evan’s cock as their strong hands held her fast.
“Master . . . God . . . help . . . me . . .”
Evan went preternaturally still, watching her, absorbing all of it. Niall paused, lifting his head to do the same, both of them so close, their intent regard increasing the power of the orgasm. Her heart was literally going to explode. Then Evan’s expression became more intent, facial muscles tightening, and she knew the spasming of her p-ssy would bring him to climax again.
“Please, yes . . .”
As he pistoned up inside of her, letting the second climax go, Niall turned to his Master. Threading his hand through Evan’s hair, he set his mouth to the vampire’s neck and bit. He bit hard, such that Evan growled, clamped a hand down on Niall’s thigh with bruising force. Finding the opening of Niall’s jeans, he gripped his cock in a pumping fist. Niall bit even harder, his hand skating across Evan’s chest, pulling open his shirt to scrape strong fingers across his chest, the flat nipple. She gasped as Evan released, his seed a hot stream bathing her channel. When Niall came in his Master’s grip, the milky fluid fountained, bathing Evan’s fingers, Niall’s bare abdomen, splattering across her spread thighs. Her aftershocks intensified.
With trembling fingers, she collected some of the seed and brought it to her p-ssy, smearing it over the base of Evan’s cock, her still sensitive *, and then brought those same fingers to her mouth. Both men watched her with hot, demanding expressions that made her want to start it all over again, even the punishment.
Especially the punishment. It had made her feel more . . . at peace, than she’d felt in quite a while.
Evan’s gaze softened, and he cupped her face, running a thumb over her lips. “Motek,” he murmured. “Such sweetness. You’re a treasure.”
Alanna shuddered under his touch. They were all done, staring at one another, breathing hard. Niall had eased his bite, given Evan a nuzzle, then a lick to deal with the mark he’d left. Evan didn’t appear ready to let her go, and Alanna wasn’t sure what to do. This was when she’d normally climb off Stephen, attend to cleaning him. Instead, Evan eased her forward, guiding her to put her head on his shoulder. Niall stretched his arm behind Evan, so she was cradled between them. Particularly when Evan shifted her so she straddled his thigh and Niall’s adjacent one, her knees pressed between the splay of each man’s legs. Evan’s arm was back around her waist, Niall’s overlapping it again, both keeping her close.
She never wanted to disappoint him, wanted to make them both happy. She wanted to say she was sorry again, but she understood she’d done that, and been punished. Then her Master’s words rendered her speechless.
“I’ve never cared that I’m not the biggest dog in the yard, Alanna. That wasn’t what being a vampire was about to me. But feeling him in your mind, hurting you, knowing my mark wasn’t strong enough to override his . . . I’ve never in my life wanted power the way I wanted it then, to crush him for causing you a moment’s pain.”
For hurting what’s mine.
Niall was obviously startled by the thought his Master had shared with them both. Evan touched his knuckles to Niall’s jaw, linking the three of them. Alanna felt a desire to reach up and touch Niall there herself, increasing the bond. However, before she could, the Scot gave Evan a short nod. Adjusting Alanna so Evan had her cradled in his lap, Niall rose and left them. She watched him stride toward the cabin, refastening his jeans as he went, the muscles across his wide shoulders tense.
“Why does he do that, Master?” she whispered. “Why does he draw away from you when it’s obvious how much he loves you?”
Evan stilled against her. When she glanced up, she caught a brief tightness in his expression. Had she acknowledged something about the men’s relationship that Niall never did?
Evan brought her face back down to his shoulder. She was content to be there, just listening to the sounds of the night, his fingers stroking the bare curve of her spine, the other hand idly kneading her sore buttock, but at length, she thought she could ask another question.
“What was he like . . . back then?”
Evan toyed with her hair, following the line of it over her breast, down her abdomen. She loosened her thighs and he slipped between, playing with her p-ssy. The tissues there were still very sensitive, so she quivered under his touch, but she loved the feel of his long, sensitive fingers stroking her.
When Evan let her into his mind, he took her back to that first meeting, giving her a longer, more thorough look at Niall this time as he emerged from that loch, dripping wet, naked. Though the Scot appeared about a dozen years younger than he did now, he was tall and proud, then. Strong, yes, but so thin, his cheeks gaunt. Rage and determination burned in his eyes. She wondered how many times he’d given his family his portion, telling his wife he’d eaten part of the kill while out hunting?
“You see the physical beauty, but you immediately seek what’s below the surface. It’s an admirable quality.” Evan’s lips curved in a poignant expression. “I told him to impress me, and from the first day, he never disappointed. After that first meeting, I left Scotland for another project. I told him I’d be back in six months to check on the results of his scouting for me, but I came back five weeks later. I wanted to see him again, to see if the money I was sending him had improved things for his family. At times, Fate shows her hand quite clearly in our lives.”
Her fingers tightened on Evan’s chest as he gave her another image of Niall, this one of him bleeding to death on a dark battlefield.
“His landlord forced him to fight for the Jacobites, threatening to turn out his family if he didn’t join his army.”
Evan drove away the midnight looters, making it clear they’d pay with their lives if they lingered, but he had no desire to stay on this desolate battlefield under a cloudy nighttime sky, either. He hiked the Scot over his shoulders, a narrower span than Niall’s, but he held him with sure hands and used vampire speed to leave the bloody scene behind. Taking him deep into the wood, he laid him down in a secluded glade whose cushion of grass had provided safe slumber to more than one deer family.
Eyes darkening, he squatted by the man. A gut wound was a horrible way to die. Niall should have been moaning, but he was suffering it in silence, his expression caught between anger, anguish and desperation. Not for himself. Evan already knew enough about this man to know what would make him afraid. And make him fight for his life beyond all reasonable expectations.
He was groping for his dagger. Evan pulled it free and tossed it out of range, before he pushed him to his back again. “It’s me. It’s your wrestling mate, man. Not a bloody enemy.”
He pressed a cloth to the gut wound, trying to staunch the blood flow as those lion’s eyes focused on him. “My family, I cannae die. They need me . . . Ceana, she nae . . .”
The path to what Evan wanted was clear as a paved street to Hell. Fate wouldn’t have lined things up like this if it wasn’t meant to be. Right? His sire would have given him an ironic look through cool eyes, calling the rationalization the horseshit it was, but fortunately Lord Uthe wasn’t here at the moment. “I can help you live. But you’ll owe me something.”
The Scot gazed at the bloody mess under Evan’s hands. “You’re a devil, then.”
“You’re not making a pact with Satan. Though I expect you have enough of a brain to figure that out. Eventually.”
“Will what I owe you . . . hurt my family?”
“No. But it will hurt you. No help for that.”
Vampires didn’t apologize to humans. Evan had once been human enough to understand how arrogant that was, but a vampire was too superior in strength and other skills to ever see a human as an equal. He’d give him the choice to live or die, but that was the only choice he’d offer. Yeah, he was a bloody bastard, wasn’t he? But he wouldn’t see this man die. Even now, with his hand pressed on the gut wound, as if the insistence in his touch would keep the life in him longer, Evan was tempted to commit one of the few vampire sins. Take that one vital choice away.
“Hurt . . . as in pain worse than this?” Niall’s lips drew back in a ghastly smile, telling Evan he cared little about pain to himself, even though he was near convulsing with it.
“The marking will hurt like a son of a bitch, but I’m talking about this kind of pain.” He put his other hand on Niall’s heart. “Choose fast. Better to do this sooner than later.”
“My family . . . I’ll be able to care for them.”
“Better than ever.” Niall would belong to him. He didn’t have a lot of excess funds, but he had far more than Niall, such that no landlord could blackmail him again. “Choose, Niall.”
“Death and leave my family tae starve . . . or you.”
“I make few promises, but I guarantee I’m a better choice than option one.”
Niall stared up at him, then offered his hand. The effort was such that his fingers, the entire arm, were shaking badly, but Evan lifted his own blood-soaked hand, clasped palms. “If it doesnae work, you’ll take care of my family.”
“No, I won’t. You have to fight to live, to honor your promise. I won’t give you that escape route. I get what I want, or you get nothing.” The wound was severe. Even a vampire couldn’t win a one-on-one with the Grim Reaper. Much would depend on Niall’s strength, his desperate will to live.
“Bastard. All right then. Aye. I owe ye a debt. Give me my life so I may care for my family.”
First your family, then me, Evan thought. “Close your eyes. This will feel like dying, but then you’ll feel better than you ever felt in your life. If it works.” Giving all three marks at once could kill the Scot in his current state, but there was no time to do it any other way. Hopefully, the first two would provide enough vitality to give the irrevocable third mark the chance to latch on to his soul.
Bending, he laid his hand on Niall’s jaw, pressing his cheek to the earth, and unsheathed his fangs. The brown eyes flashed in shock, as Evan bit down on the first sweet, sweet taste of his servant’s blood.
“What happened to his son?” He’d shared the images in his head, but it was obvious Evan had gotten as lost in them as she had, so she brought him back to the present with the quiet question. He blinked.
“A few years after Niall left, Eric booked passage on a ship to take his family to Jamaica, to join a sugar enterprise there. The ship went down, no survivors. Niall broke off all contact with his other relatives then. He’s never been back to Scotland. I’ve honored his request not to return for all three hundred of our years together.”
Evan’s face was shadowed. There were lights inside the cottage, and she saw Niall foraging in the kitchen.
“You sent money to help his son, didn’t you?”
“I did.” A smile touched his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “When Niall came into my service, he told me whatever salary he was paid should be sent to his family, minus any small pittance he might need for his upkeep. By the time he realized there is no salary associated with being a vampire’s servant, I’d ensured his family had been cared for. His service was more than enough compensation. It’s only taken him three centuries to believe that. Stubborn Scot.”
She nodded. “Niall said . . . you visited him while he was still married.”
“You want to know what his wife was like.”
At her dismayed look, he tugged her hair. “Female curiosity is one of the very few predictable things about you creatures.”
He had forgiven her enough to tease her, his gentle touch sending warm tendrils through her stomach. When she pressed her lips against his hand, his gaze stilled upon her. She reached up, touched his mouth, fingertip grazing a fang. He nipped her enough to draw some blood, sipped it away while her body stirred at the attention.
“Insatiable creature,” he murmured. “I think your desire is greater than your curiosity.”
She couldn’t block the thought, and was glad she hadn’t when he laughed. “Yes, I expect you would like both satisfied. But I’ll tend your curiosity first. Ceana was courteous but reserved with me. Typical of a country girl, but I think it was more than that. They were childhood friends, pushed together by their families as a practical matter, but they had a real fondness for one another, if not a huge passion. She was protective of him, which I think is the real reason she was never overfriendly to me.” His lips twisted in a wry expression.
“Niall had no sense of his reputation in the eyes of other men. He’d grown up poor, struggled through difficult times, but he’d proven himself. He was a better hunter, warrior and scout than a crofter, but he worked hard at whatever was necessary to care for his family and community. Despite his refusal to take a political stand in a very political time, people respected him. In short, he had stature, despite the meanness of his lot. It told me a great deal about him.”
“I think you don’t want to let him go now, any more than you did then. I think you love him, too, Master.”
She stiffened, appalled at herself. Lulled by Evan’s images and story, she hadn’t thought to censor her tongue. Vampires didn’t love their servants. They might value them, have affection for them, but love was never a possibility. Servants might whisper about it, crave the impossible dream, but it was dismissed as a fanciful side effect of giving one’s heart fully to a Master or Mistress. In the vampire world, such an unlikely love would be condemned. If the vampire was female, it could even endanger her life and freedom. Lady Lyssa was the only exception, and that exception existed only because she was at the top of their food chain. The queen was likely keenly aware of that.
Love for a vampire, if it existed, was always one-sided. All servants accepted that truth, because if there was any one thing forbidden in the vampire world, it was a vampire being in love with a servant.
“My apologies, Master. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Evan merely tightened his arms around her, dropped a kiss on her head. “Go to him. He’s probably eating something out of a can with a spoon, looking pitiful.”
She smiled against him, relieved. “Should I make something for you?”
“No. I’ve fed well from your lovely throat. I’m going to spend some time on my own tonight, up in the mountains.” Lifting her off him, he rose to his feet, but recaptured her attention with a firm hand on her chin. “But after you feed him, I expect you in that chair, as I ordered. I’ll let you know when you can get up. I don’t want you to forget the lesson you learned tonight.”
“Yes, sir.” She never would, but she’d do anything he asked of her.
Giving her a searching look, he ran his hands down over her hips, dropping one last kiss on her shoulder, a prick of fang against her throat. Despite the protection of his second mark and her attempt to mask it, she had started to shiver from the cold night air. Removing his own shirt, he slid it over her shoulders, buttoned a couple of buttons down the front, then teased the cleft between her breasts with a brush of his knuckle. “You’re lucky it’s not summer. I would have made you sit out here and let the mosquitoes and gnats chew on your pretty pale flesh. It’s not a good place to be bare-arsed, as Niall might say. Keep that in mind.”
Then he was gone, leaving her standing alone in the night. Yet she wasn’t alone. She felt a thread, a connection between the vampire artist traveling through the night with his own thoughts, and the servant brooding inside the cabin. Even after three centuries together, there was obviously a final step to be made between them. That they were bound to each other was beyond question; one responded to the movements of the other like a mirror image. Recalling their sensual expertise was knee-weakening vivid proof of it. They were brothers-in-arms, but also adversaries. Would they reconcile it before Niall was gone forever?
Death was a part of life. Every living being knew that, even vampires. Most didn’t live to the great age of Lady Lyssa, who was reputedly over a thousand. Various factors could bring their lives to an end, though at an age much greater than humans. Despite Niall’s three centuries of life, the thought of his death made her throat ache. As the warm light of the kitchen spilled out into the yard, she compared the strong, powerfully built male against the thin, fierce fighter Evan had shown her in his mind.
We all grow up, sister, but few of us learn to be adults. Not until we know what love truly means. Duty and honor are part of it, but when duty and honor transcend, become devotion and unconditional commitment, it is an entirely different realm of possibilities.
Adam had told her that, in a letter he wrote to her. A letter she now wished she’d kept, though that line had stayed in her head.
Since her betrayal of Stephen, she wasn’t sure who or what she was from day to day. But tonight, thinking how she’d lost herself in Evan and Niall’s desires, their passion, she wondered if she was at last going to discover the answer, only to lose it with her life, in a matter of weeks, days . . . hours?
No. If there was an afterlife, and even if she was stuck with Stephen, she’d hold on to that knowledge. Once discovered, it couldn’t be taken from her. If it could, then there really was such a thing as Hell.