19
SHE was as good as her word. She and Niall had the RV packed and ready when Evan returned from talking to Tyler. Less than fifteen minutes after that, they were pulling into a protected birdwatching area frequented by naturalists during daylight hours. From the picnic shelter, Evan watched Niall and Alanna, sitting in the wooden observation tower overlooking the marsh. He’d sent both servants there, primarily because Niall’s emotions were still quite . . . Scottish. If he shot his mouth off during the more problematic discussion points, Evan might have to prevent the loss of another servant.
Niall hadn’t liked being excluded, especially when he saw Gideon, Daegan’s servant, would be staying in the shelter to attend the conversation, but Evan had nodded to Alanna.
She’s still in a fairly fragile state. I want her reassured that her place among us is restored. And there’s no need for her to hear this.
While Niall rightly suspected Evan had reasons for wanting him specifically out of earshot, the reasons to remove Alanna were equally truthful. So the Scot reluctantly took her off to the tower, though Evan expected he’d be thoroughly interrogated later about his discussion with the Council’s assassin.
Of course, now that his and Daegan’s conversation had extended longer than expected, his servant was stretched out in the bird watch while Alanna moved around below, studying the foliage with her plant book. Every once in a while, he saw her go back up into the tower and check on Niall.
Even though all the lore said he would feel Niall’s loss like a ton of bricks falling on his chest, these days Evan often left camera or canvas to lean over his servant just as Alanna was doing, making sure the man’s eyes were closed in sleep, not staring at an eternity he’d not yet experienced. His hand closed into a fist on the table.
“You’re distracted. More than usual, I suspect, according to Lord Uthe’s description of you.”
Lord Daegan had been leaning against one of the shelter posts, but now resumed his seat across from Evan, demonstrating that lithe warrior’s grace that said he could slice an unfortunate gnat out of the air. Niall was a fair hand with a blade, but Daegan’s every movement underscored he had one primary purpose, and he did it well.
Thinking of the last time he’d seen Niall pick up a claymore, Evan wondered if Daegan had ever watched the movie Highlander. One night, a long, long time ago, due to his own poor planning, his need to use up that one last roll of film, Evan had taken daylight refuge in the basement of what turned out to be a sorority house. He was discovered by two of the girls doing their laundry, but Niall’s charm had quickly overcome any concerns. In fact, several other girls had joined them for a day-long party, complete with beer, junk food and parlor games, most of which Evan missed because he was sleeping on the cot they brought him.
However, he’d been awake enough to hear them ask Niall to say the infamous Highlander hook-up line: “I am Connor McLeod of the Clan McLeod, et cetera, et cetera . . . and I can never die.” Surprisingly, it did work outside the movies. Thank God Niall had a third mark, or he might not have survived the pleasurable demands of that day.
Enough of this. Realizing he was proving the vampire’s point, Evan straightened, gave Daegan his full attention. Gideon was propped on the brick fire pit, arms crossed over his broad chest. While his gaze strayed periodically toward Alanna and Niall, the alert set of his lean, warrior’s body said he was as focused on the task at hand as Daegan himself.
“I’m in agreement on everything we’ve discussed, my lord,” Evan said. “But I have one more thing to add. If you find Stephen, you can’t kill him.”
“On the contrary, I’m quite capable of it.” Daegan picked a shiny red apple out of the wooden fruit bowl, examined it. Alanna had brought it out from the RV stores for the vampire assassin and his servant. “But I expect that wasn’t what you meant. You’ve already discussed this with Uthe. Why talk to me about it?”
“Because you will be the one wielding the sword, not Uthe.” Evan spoke carefully. The assassin’s eyes were so dark that it was difficult to see the whites at times. It made him all the more intimidating, but Evan didn’t intimidate. He didn’t consider himself particularly brave; it just wasn’t in his nature to be dissuaded from his goal by power discrepancies. Niall had once likened it to the way a small terrier went after a wolfhound, certain he could take him if he could get the right grip.
“Lord Brian has an experimental treatment that might break a bond as old as the one Alanna carries from Stephen,” Evan explained. “But the treatment is a three-week process, requiring live samples from the vampire throughout. I understand the Council has its priorities, and those priorities are greater than the consideration of the life of one servant . . .”
“Far greater,” Daegan said. However, his tone was neutral, flat, such that Evan wasn’t certain if Daegan agreed with that perspective or was regurgitating the expected party line.
“You saw her tonight. She’s impressive. Brave and clever. And she’s done nothing but serve the Council’s interests in this matter. I believe her preservation merits consideration.”
“It does. But if the choice is to let him get away or take him out, I have only one choice.”
“I understand that.” Evan saw Alanna tilt her head back. She was staring up at the star-strewn sky. When her hair fluttered over her shoulder, she captured it with one hand so it didn’t impede her view. Always such a quiet, pensive thing, so hard to surprise a smile or laugh out of her. But he remembered the day in the kitchen, when she’d gotten so angry at Niall, his boot on that napkin. He almost smiled at the memory. Then he remembered the past hour, which didn’t make him smile at all. Her fear, revealed so clearly.
“With all due respect, I am asking you to please . . . do what you can to bring him in alive.”
Daegan met his gaze. “She is more than an assignment to you. More than a chance to curry favor with Lady Lyssa.”
It was the elephant in the room, the one so many vampires squeezed past, no matter how close the creature pressed against the walls of their existence. The fine line of what was appropriate or inappropriate to feel for a servant. Evan had never had much patience for what was so obvious, but he curbed his irritation now, chose diplomacy. And insight. He’d watched the way Daegan and Gideon moved together, reacted to each other.
“She’s impressed me with who and what she is,” he said quietly. “If you know me through Uthe as it seems you do, you know I study people carefully, and I judge character well. Courage and integrity are not exclusive vampire traits.” Taking the risk, he glanced meaningfully toward Gideon. “I expect with your greater age and wisdom, you already know that.”
“Don’t exert yourself on flattery, Evan. You want her.” The assassin stated it bluntly. “But there are a lot of ifs between that goal and the reality. If Stephen can be captured alive, if Brian can find a way to break the link safely, if a higher-ranking vampire doesn’t come forward, wanting her. A lot of time and cost went into training her to serve a vampire with stature, political aspirations. Does understanding that change your interest in preserving her life? Because I can assure you there isn’t a single Council member who will care overly much if I deliver his corpse.”
Evan remembered that spontaneous, terrible thought Alanna had, the first time he’d pushed her to want something for herself. I wish Stephen had killed me. Underneath the new feelings and desires, there was still so much of the InhServ, forbidden to have wants and desires. Death was acceptable, if it was what the Council ordered.
Yet he also remembered that nearly audible click in her mind when she understood she wasn’t merely a status symbol or a tool to him. That he valued her for who she was, a remarkable, brave, unexpectedly stubborn woman, her weaknesses and strengths both part of her appeal. He thought of how she’d gripped his hand, pressed her face into his palm, overwhelmed by the discovery. Seeing that change, feeling her flood of emotions not only from her mind but through that one contact on his palm, he knew the truth. If this woman was loved the way she should be, she would embrace her full potential. She was already amazing; with love, she would evolve into the realm of the extraordinary, a living work of art like nothing the world had ever seen.
He met the vampire assassin’s gaze squarely, forced himself to say words that could slice his heart in two like Daegan’s sword. “Whether or not she would stay in my care is irrelevant. She deserves to live for her own merits, not my whim.”
“But in the vampire world, it’s only a vampire’s whim that will give her any consideration at all.” Daegan sat back, studying him. From the faint flicker of Gideon’s expression, Evan sensed a conversation happening between the two men. Abruptly, Daegan rose, extending his hand.
“I’ll do what I can, Evan. You have my word.”
The band around his chest eased a few notches. He might not know much about Lord Daegan, but he suspected the male said nothing he didn’t mean. As he rose and clasped the assassin’s hand, Daegan tilted his head toward Gideon.
“Despite this poor excuse of a servant, you are correct. I do understand the value of a good one.”
Gideon raised a brow, but didn’t comment on that. Instead, he said, “If we’re done here, I’ll go kick Niall onto his feet for a short sparring match. Make sure his skills are still sharp.”
“No,” Evan said. When both men looked toward him, he softened the brusqueness of his reply. “Let him sleep. He needs it . . . more often now.”
He thought of Niall in a pillow fight with the sorority girls, roaring with laughter, yet so gentle while wrestling with them . . . Niall had been the subject or part of the scenery of so many of his works, but there were millions more in Evan’s head, a gallery that pressed in on him now, making him short of breath in a way that didn’t happen to vampires.
Realizing the conversation was best concluded, he nodded to Daegan courteously, then left the shelter, striding across the field toward his servants.
As Evan moved away from them, Gideon glanced at Daegan. “He’s that close? Niall?”
“The increased sleep patterns are the only real indication we have, other than the number of years. A few have lived up to a decade beyond the three-century mark, but if he’s already sleeping more, he will not be one of those.” Daegan came to stand shoulder to shoulder with his servant, both males watching the three. Alanna had straightened. Whatever Evan said to her caused her to come to him swiftly, take his hand. He swung her around, catching the herbs from her hand to examine them as she tried to take them back. He was obviously teasing her. With their enhanced senses, Daegan and Gideon heard him suggest throwing rocks at Niall to wake him, though they knew he had no intention of doing so.
“Do you think Lyssa will take that in to account, if they can break Stephen’s mark?” Gideon asked. “The fact that Evan will be alone soon?”
“You know her better than I do. What do you think?”
Gideon pursed his lips. “If she can manage it politically, I think she’d do it. She’s pretty much Head Bitch in Charge now. Don’t think anyone will mess with her on it. But Brian’s had piss-poor luck breaking any mark over five years old. The Council made him put it on the back burner. It seemed pretty pointless, anyhow. How many vampires would break from a servant after that length of time? Stephen’s kind of a onetime freak issue. Not worth the cost of the research, to their way of thinking.”
“Should I ask why you were asking Brian about such a thing?”
Gideon tilted his head as Daegan shifted closer, an intent look in his dark eyes that Gideon took for the sensual warning it was. One he couldn’t resist poking at. “Just keeping my options open,” he said lightly.
Daegan’s hand was on his chest before he could block him, using that electrifying speed to move into his personal space, crowding him against the pillar. He had his hand under Gideon’s T-shirt, bypassing the nine millimeter holster and dagger sheath to find the three teardrop servant’s mark high on his chest. “You have no options when it comes to our ownership of you, vampire hunter,” Daegan murmured, brushing his nose across Gideon’s cheek, baring fangs so he felt the scrape on his jaw. “We resolved that long ago.”
“You’re already in my mind, a*shole.” Gideon fought to keep his mind unscrambled as Daegan’s mouth touched his throat, sending a shot of adrenaline straight to his groin. He suppressed a groan as Daegan cupped his balls, a threatening squeeze. “I told him you wanted to determine what kind of chance you could give the girl, if it suited the Council’s purpose.”
Daegan arched a brow. “Lying to the Council’s scientist. I’m sure there’s a severe punishment for that.”
When his fangs pierced Gideon’s artery, he gripped the vampire’s waist beneath the long coat, the steel of the sword’s scabbard brushing his thigh. “Not lying. Anticipating. You know you wanted to know. You’re not as blackhearted as your reputation. ‘Those who know my name are mostly dead’? Really?”
“Not mostly dead.” Daegan lifted his head, licking a smear of blood off his lip. “Most of those who know it are dead. Ass.”
“Yeah, yeah. I was thinking about what was going to be on cable tonight. Wasn’t really paying attention.” Gideon tempted fate, tasting the blood on Daegan’s lips. His hand slid past the sword to another weapon, one that was nearly as hard as the steel.
Daegan’s eyes glinted as he caught Gideon’s wrist, twisted it up against the column above his head. Holding his body pinned, the vampire spoke against Gideon’s ear. “Your Mistress is not here to protect you. You will be beneath me at dawn, and I will prove just how ruthless and blackhearted I can be.”
F*ck that. Anwyn’s way scarier than you are. Gideon took another nip at his mouth, and Daegan chuckled.
He slipped away like a shadow, back to sitting at the picnic table before Gideon could blink. Though his pose was casual, his glance wasn’t, the way it swept Gideon’s body. Daegan being Daegan, the bastard would run him half to death tonight, then f*ck him into the ground to prove who had the upper hand. But that struggle was the pleasure they shared.
The vampire picked up the apple again. “Warrior to warrior. Tell me what you’re thinking, rather than making me pick it out of that caveman brain of yours.”
“She stood up to that piece of shit tonight. And she gave up everything to do what was right. I’ll say what Evan won’t to the big, bad Council assassin. We should do everything we can to save someone like that.”
“Agreed. You know me too well. I’m spending far too much time in your company.”
“You have no other options. Anwyn and I are the only ones who can stand you.”
“Says the kettle.” Daegan fended off Gideon’s punch at his chest as he came to sit on the table next to him. “Careful. Show some respect to the big, bad assassin.”
“In your dreams.” Gideon sobered. “Stephen won’t want us to take him alive. That’s our biggest challenge.”
Daegan propped his elbow on Gideon’s thigh, took a bite of the apple. As he chewed, he offered the rest to Gideon. “He knows his fate at the hands of the Council. He will want a quick death.” Daegan flashed his fangs. “Which is why I am motivated to deprive him of it.”
Gideon looked back toward Alanna and Evan. She’d hopped onto Evan’s back, and he was carrying her farther into the marsh. Knowing Evan, he was probably showing her some kind of luminescent water bug. Above them, Niall sat up. When he swung down to join them, the bond between the three, the way they drew together like a gravitational pull, was as obvious as the bond between the two males watching. Not that Gideon dwelled on such things often.
Daegan stood, bumping Gideon’s shoulder. “Liar. You can’t keep your thoughts off my ass.”
“Only how much I’d like to kick it, stuff a grenade up it . . . the fantasies are endless.”
“Keep telling yourself that, vampire hunter.” Daegan checked the placement of the sword in his coat, adjusted the gun at the small of his back. “Let’s go. The challenge of a capture instead of a kill is a rare pleasure, a refining of existing skills. I might actually enjoy this.”
“Well, just so you’re a happy vampire.” Gideon tossed the apple core into the grass outside the picnic shelter and flashed him a dangerous smile.
As elusive as the shadows themselves, the two warriors melted into the night.
Niall waded into the marsh. Evan was holding Alanna piggyback as he showed her a sleeping heron. The ghostly white bird had his head tucked into his chest feathers, his body hidden among the weeds. Niall had woken in a curious mood, so he followed his inclination. He slid an arm around Alanna’s waist, and leaned against Evan’s body in simple affection. The vampire brushed his temple with a dip of his head.
“What will be will be,” Evan said quietly. “But we have this.”
“We’re a long time deid,” Niall agreed. At Alanna’s look, he gave her a squeeze. “It means enjoy life now, lass.”
She nodded. Putting her hand over Niall’s on her hip, she settled her other one into Evan’s grasp when he reached up, drew it down to hold it over his heart. “Thank you both for your care,” she added after a pause. “Whatever happens . . . I expected to be alone for all this, and I don’t feel alone.”
Evan was right. She could break a man’s heart. Niall hooked a finger in Evan’s belt loop, tightening there as he held Alanna closer to his side.
Any luck with Daegan?
He understands the situation and will do his best. I believe he understands my feelings on the matter. Our feelings on it. Evan shot him a humorous glance. I am not the only vampire fond of a surly human male, Niall.
Leaning closer, he put his mouth over Niall’s, a quick press of fang. Then he turned his head and drew Alanna over his shoulder, giving her a taste of them both. “We’re taking you to one of my favorite places in the world,” he told her. “Niall likes it, too. A wealth of voluptuous women cook him food there.”
When her gaze narrowed, her lips thinning, Evan tossed Niall an amused look. “Be careful, neshama. Nothing more dangerous in this world than a jealous woman.”
As they traveled to their next destination, Alanna dozed on the sleeper. She’d stayed up front with the men for a while, but she’d been tired and Evan had sent her to bed. However, even in her somnolent state, she held on to her connection with them like a child holding a stuffed animal. They talked about Evan’s next project, the mundane events of the past few days. Overhearing their mention of the wedding reception, her mind returned to it as well.
She’d spent some time with Chloe and her family, but at a certain point, she’d gone looking for her Master and Niall. Evan was sitting under a live oak, almost lost in its shadows. Earlier, when she’d seen him by the dim light provided by the Chinese lanterns, she’d realized he was hungry, but he’d told her he’d be fine until dawn.
Niall stood casual guard, keeping those who approached engaged in conversation so that Evan would be unnoticed. The Scot was about ten yards away, yet she could see it, the connection between them. It wasn’t just the vampire–servant, mind-to-mind physical connection. They had a chemistry she suspected had existed from the beginning. Was it that way for vampire–servant pairings that were fated, instead of arranged? Perhaps not, because many vampires didn’t have the kind of bond with their servants that Evan obviously had with Niall . . . that Lady Lyssa had with Jacob.
Dangerous thoughts she couldn’t help but have. The slight tilt of Niall’s head, his body language, told her how aware he was of his Master at all levels. Whether Niall admitted it or not, he’d be as lost without that connection as he would when his heart stopped beating. She wondered if that was the real reason a servant died when his vampire did.
Going to the waitstaff, she asked for half a glass of red wine. Moving into a convenient screen of oleander at the corner of the pool house, she drew the small blade a servant routinely carried for such things. A syringe would be more efficient, but a small pocketknife was easier to explain. She was well-practiced at it, such that the cup was filled in no time.
When she approached the tree, Niall’s nostrils flared as he caught the scent. Giving her an imperceptible nod, he caught her arm and said something that made her smile before he resumed his conversation with the two men. Slipping under the oak’s canopy, she dropped to her knees between Evan’s feet.
“Mother hens, the both of you,” he said, but his lips curved. He bade her stay, so she shifted at his direction, resting her head on his knee, her body pressed against his calf as he idly stroked her hair, sipped the blood.
“Niall said it was necessary. He didn’t want you trying to eat the guests. Tyler won’t invite you back, and Niall likes the food here.”
“It would be a braver man than myself that stood between Niall and a feast.” Evan brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “You’re learning to tease and be teased.”
She nodded, returned her head to his knee. She fingered the hand he had dangling loosely over it, touching the pewter ring on his middle finger. Time heals all things. “Was this a gift?”
“Yes, from Niall. He gave it to me the year I turned three hundred, on Yom Kippur. Day of Atonement.” Evan studied the ring. “It’s a solemn day, a fast from sunset to sunset, during which a Jew reviews the past year and seeks atonement for his sins against God. He’s also supposed to make amends for any sins against others before the day itself.” He looked up at her. “Niall says I get gloomy as a cloud on Yom Kippur. He gave me the ring because he thought a shiny bauble might perk me up, like it would a lass.”
She smiled. “He likes teasing you. But I expect you teased him back.”
“Several times, the next night. It would have been forbidden on that day.” The heat that went through his gaze told her exactly what he meant. “With his bad influence, he’ll teach you the way of it in no time.”
“I like teasing you,” she admitted. “As long as I don’t offend or anger you. You seem to enjoy it when Niall does it.”
“Yet you’re developing your own inimitable style.”
That made her glow a little, especially when his eyes warmed on her. “May I ask . . . What about Yom Kippur makes you sad?”
“After Yom Kippur, you start the new year with a clean slate. But after so many years, you learn there really is no such thing as a clean slate.” He lifted a shoulder, giving her a wry smile. “I’m a blood drinker and a sodomite. Rather hypocritical to atone for something I won’t stop doing. But by its very nature, Yom Kippur is a day of remembrance. After hundreds of years, so many things are forgotten or devalued. So many moments can be like water drops, slipping away from you as the years progress. But I remember my parents vividly, as well as the lives I’ve taken for my annual kill. I’ve made amends for those in the ways that are possible, and I always say prayers for them.
“As far as my parents . . . I was dying when Uthe came to me. There was no way to make them understand the decision I made or reconcile it. I wanted a chance to live . . . to experience life without illness, to pursue this burning drive I had inside me to create, to . . . illuminate. It felt like a mistake, like I was meant to live, and fate had sent me this chance.” He shook his head. “The delusions of ego, but the decision was made. I left in the middle of the night, leaving nothing behind but a note saying that I wished to spare them the pain of my death and would see as much of the world as I could before God claimed me. Honest, in part. But now that I’ve left behind a young man’s self-absorbed view of life, I know that decision caused my mother unimaginable pain. Not just going away from her, but the idea that my body might not have been cared for properly in death, according to our ways.”
She considered that. Despite her mother’s aloofness, once she left home, Alanna still cried herself to sleep for quite some time, knowing she’d never see her again. That first year, the feelings had sometimes been unbearable. To be bonded to someone for three hundred years, sharing emotions, intimacy, everything . . . When Niall was gone, only Evan would hold those memories. It sounded very lonely.
“How will you bear it?”
“The same way we bear anything in life. One moment at a time.”
When she woke, she knew it was daylight, because she was in pitch-black darkness. The rumble of the RV moving over the highway was now matched by the sounds of heavier traffic. Because of yesterday’s events, they had to move during daylight, so Niall had shut all the window coverings. There was a small anteroom between the driver’s area and the living quarters to prevent any sunlight.
She heard Evan shift off the sleeper across from her. Grunt in pain.
“Master?”
“Moving to the floor,” he muttered. “Cooler.”
Before they started on their trip, she’d helped Niall unroll a cool mat, filled with chilled water that plugged into the electrical, and slid it under the camper sleeper. The rough sound of canvas scraping the floor, the slosh of water, Evan’s thud as he flopped down on it, told her he was making use of it.
In pitch black, she had very little vision, but she knew the layout of the RV. Even artificial light would be too much for him right now. Finding the kitchenette, she created an ice pack out of a wet cloth and ice and brought it back to him. Going by sense and light touches, she stepped around his feet, knelt and lay down on her side, propping herself on her elbow.
He’d stripped off his shirt, so she put the ice pack there first, sliding it over his hot skin.
“It’s always an aggravation, traveling during daylight.” The strain in his voice concerned her, though his irritable tone helped ease it. Somewhat. “No matter how well protected I am, nothing less than underground results in this. It’s like when I had fevers as a child, enhanced ten times.” His hand found hers, glided up her forearm. “That feels good. Keep doing that.”
She shifted so she was closer, but didn’t touch his skin with hers, not wanting to add to his heat. It emanated off him like steam. “Master?”
“I’m fine, Alanna. I’ve done this before. My f*cked-up anatomy may think I’m a hundred, but I’m not going to act like a fledgling, always going underground before daylight.”
“Do vampires acknowledge any sins, Master?”
“Pride is a virtue to vampires, Alanna. You know that. Coveting is our favorite sport. Gluttony . . .” Capturing her forearm, he lifted her wrist to his mouth, ran his tongue lightly over her InhServ mark. “We never get enough of certain things.”
When he bit down, the ripple of pleasure, right on the heels of the pain, made her tighten her fingers over his knuckles. Blood would help him, keep him strong, and she’d willingly give it all to him. But despite the pleasurable euphoria his feeding caused, she kept bathing him with the ice pack, enjoying his chest, the muscles of his abdomen, his upper thighs. When his other hand came up, cupped her neck, he brought her down to the taste of her blood and his hot mouth. She savored both as he shifted her closer.
“Unh.” He grunted a laugh against her mouth, hand dropping to seize her wrist. She’d let the hand with the ice pack press against his genitals, covered by thin cotton boxers.
She sputtered an apology, reflexively jerking back. The back of her head met his palm, saving her from the metal edge of the sleeper, though the momentum of her reaction had rapped his knuckles. He hadn’t had to do that. It was just a bump to her head. But he had.
He was still chuckling, and it was infectious, foolishly so. Deliberately this time, she slid the ice pack right under the loose waistband of the boxers, freeing the ends of the cloth so the ice tumbled over his privates.
His roar of indignation would have sent her scampering, but he could see far better in the dark than she could. So she found herself wrestling with a vampire. He restrained himself enough to make it somewhat even, at least for a moment or two, but then she was giggling and squealing as he rolled over, pinning her to the camper floor.
He put ice down her soft tank top and into her panties, making her squirm and thrash until he put a cube directly against her * and labia.
“Master,” she panted. His hand closed on her throat, his elbow pinning her arm to the floor of the camper.
Put the other one over your head.
She obeyed immediately. When he put his mouth on the damp curve of her breast, swelling above the neckline of the tank, the mood shifted back to Master and servant in an instant. She went still and quivering beneath him. Oh, but the ice was excruciating . . .
“Stay still,” he murmured. “Not even a twitch, my servant. Bear it, for me.”
As she shuddered hard, he nuzzled her throat, inhaled the scent of her hair. The ice began to make her flesh ache, an icy burn. The heat from her cunt was melting it. “Master,” she begged again. “Master.”
Just to say it was enough to make all of it bearable. His head lifted. Now that her second-mark eyes were more accustomed to it, she could see a bare silhouette of his face. Lifting her free hand despite his order, knowing it was okay, she feathered it through his hair, that silken layering at the temples. “You’re so handsome,” she whispered. “So unexpected.”
“All vampires are handsome. We’re tediously beautiful.”
“No. I see you . . . differently.”
She sensed him studying her face. When he put his hand back into her damp underwear, he had more ice. She jerked, whimpered. “Spread your legs wider for me, Alanna.”
The ice went inside her, his fingers guiding it deep, and staying with it, exploring her, manipulating the smooth cubes. “How am I different?”
She struggled to think. Oh, God, it was unbearable . . . and yet she never wanted it to stop, either.
“I . . . feel when I look at you. It makes you look different. Like the difference in painting a stranger, and painting . . . someone you know. Isn’t there a difference?”
She needed to stop blathering. But his fingers were doing a gentle thrust and retreat, and her hips were coming up to meet his touch. She wanted him inside her. Wished for his cock with a fervency he could hear, but would deny her as long as it pleased him to do so, for that was the sorcery of being a vampire. Of being a Master.
“Yes. Like the difference between any willing woman’s p-ssy, and the wet heat of yours, just for me. For my pleasure. Your heart and soul open to me like this.”
Her lips parted, head tilting back, throat offered as the waves started to hit. “Master . . .”
Come for me. His mouth settled on the pounding artery. At the moment the climax hit, he bit, sinking his fangs into her during that rush of pleasure, his fingers still working inside her.
Though he took his time on the feeding, she was still moving rhythmically against his touch, riding the aftershocks as his fingers played beneath her panties. He licked her throat, closing the wounds, but then took her hand, bringing it under his boxers.
Work me with those lovely fingers, Alanna. I want to gush over them, smell my come on your flesh.
Lost in the glorious darkness, she obeyed.