21
SHE threw herself into unpacking. After that, she set out some photographs Evan carried as trip mementoes. Cutting a handful of black-eyed Susans from the front stoop, she arranged them in water glasses. The refrigerator was well-stocked with stews, casseroles, meats and vegetables that only needed heating. Two apple pies had appeared on the counter, so she ate a slice that fairly melted in her mouth. She tried not to resent it. Caring for Niall and Evan was her job.
She imagined the Scot in a cottage bedroom with Mel, her arms and legs twined around him, Niall plowing into her willing, slick folds, her throat arched to him, ample breasts pressed into his chest . . .
Stop it. Despite Evan’s proscription on penance, she knew her duty. She had to get her emotions under control. At the gazebo, the desire to create had been humming off his skin. He’d be lost in his painting, so she could handle it without disrupting him.
Fortunately, the well-stocked kitchen had uncooked rice. She scattered a thick covering over a bath towel and knelt facing the wall. As the sharp pieces bit into her knees, she began the meditation, letting the building discomfort pull her into that mindless zone.
She kept at it until her knees felt as if they were on knife blades, then she rose, stifling the short cry with vicious purpose. She didn’t feel better about Niall’s whereabouts, but she was less wound up about it. Evan’s second mark helped the cuts heal over quickly. Rechecking the vampire’s cellar room, she confirmed it was ready for him. She’d added a quilt and a glass of flowers, placing out a couple of books he was reading, along with a bottle of wine. She added a covered sampling of the cookies and apple pie.
She would go to bed. Alone. Putting on the shirt Niall had discarded earlier, she considered the bed he would share with her, if ever he deigned return to it. Turning away from it, she went back down to the cellar.
Merely a week ago, she’d never have dreamed of insinuating herself in her Master’s room without his direct invitation, but tonight she would risk his punishment. Niall felt too far away, though she wrapped the excess of the shirt closer around her body, inhaling his scent, taking that into her fitful sleep.
Sometime close to dawn, she was aware of Evan joining her. She was so exhausted she didn’t come out of sleep quickly enough to verify if he wanted her there. However, he put her at ease, sliding into the bed behind her, caressing her hip. When his lips touched her throat, she lifted her chin, offering. A dream-laden sigh left her as he bit into her flesh, tugged the quilt away and turned her onto her back. She wore nothing under the T-shirt so her legs spread for him, surrendering to his demand. As he pushed his cock inside her, stroked, he took her into a drifting, liquid, swirling climax where she moaned into his shoulder, held on to him through their mutual release. Then she was curved back into his body, his quiet reproof in her drifting mind.
You will not harm yourself again, Alanna. Chaos is the precursor to creation. Let your emotions spin as they wish. I will have Niall punish you for your disobedience.
She’d welcome any attention the Scot would offer her, even punitive. But at the same time, she wanted him to choke on apple pie. She fell back asleep with Evan’s tender amusement in her mind.
When she woke, she was in the upper bedroom. Niall had returned to change clothes, for what he’d worn yesterday was draped over the corner hamper. Light streaming through the window offered her a brilliant sunrise as she dressed. Evan had left her a note on the dresser, telling her to report to the commune coordinator to help with the tasks that kept the little community self-sufficient.
She arrived there with a group of people, apparently used to a similar routine. When introductions were made, she wasn’t surprised to find some of the residents wary. Given their circumstances, she knew trust would have to be earned, but this morning that was fine. The staff embraced her eagerness to work, not talk.
A vegetable garden and orchard needed weeding and pruning. After breakfast, there was dish duty in the communal eating area. Once they found out about her cooking skills, she was invited to help the lunch crew. Later she went to the infirmary, where she helped as orderly and nurse assistant. A few residents had arrived with broken limbs, one with a wired jaw. The infirmary monitored them, kept them under observation and gave them medications as needed. They also provided walk-in assistance for minor injuries. Alanna watched a nurse talk to a new resident about proper nutrition for her children, something the haggard, poorly educated woman had never had the chance to learn.
As she proved herself a willing and capable asset throughout the day, many residents became friendlier toward her. The few male staff were courteous and not flirtatious, keeping that pressure away from the residents, many of those having experienced only the ugliest side of sexual interest. Alanna found it especially heartbreaking to watch the children. Though instinctively desiring the balance male energy could provide, they watched the men with uncertain eyes. The male staff treated them with calm affection, helping them take those first steps toward trust again.
The environment was designed to be safe, nurturing. It was the self-contained comfort of a mother’s womb, occasionally punctuated by the expected squabbles, reminding her of the women’s hall of the InhServ training institute. The conflicts here were resolved with mostly good humor, everyone sensitive to the more nervous temperaments of newer arrivals, women who kept their children close, still unsure of their welcome.
She thought of Stephen invading this environment, bringing all the terror and darkness a vampire could command. Reminding herself she had to trust her Master’s judgment, she recalled Nerida’s words. Our gates aren’t for us to hide behind. They’re to better defend and protect what’s here. From the dangerous flash in the female vampire’s eyes, she’d enforced the words when necessary.
It was midafternoon when she saw Niall. He was repairing one of the cottage roofs with another man, a stocky redhead whose upper body was covered in freckles and muscles. The two of them had already stripped the shingles and were putting down tar paper.
Putting aside the festering issues she had from his night with Mel, she enjoyed the casual grace and virile strength Niall exuded doing the demanding physical task. He wore a faded pair of jeans and rubber-soled work shoes, his T-shirt hanging on a bush. When he saw her below, he sent her a warm smile that lit up her heart, foolish creature that she was.
“There she is. Muirnín, could ye bring me and Frank some o’ that fresh-squeezed lemonade over at the canteen? Get yourself a glass as well. ’Tis the best thing you’ll ever taste.”
She nodded, went to do his bidding. Mel was there, having a late lunch with some others. The Native American woman noticed her arrival, however. She gave Alanna a short nod that, while not unfriendly, was a clear assessment. Alanna was likely the top security risk in the compound right now. She was determined not to cause Mel a problem, though. She didn’t want the compound’s resources channeled toward her protection, when they had far more important priorities.
Was the woman carrying Niall’s scent between her legs this morning? Did she have a faint abrasion on her smooth, high cheekbone, left by the friction of Niall’s jaw as he thrust into her body?
So what if she did? That was Niall’s right. If Stephen had come to her, his cock dripping from another woman’s orgasm, and bade her suck him clean, her job was to respond with enthusiasm, making it as stimulating for him as he desired and more.
She’d damn well exceeded expectations in that department.
“All right this morning?”
Mel was at her shoulder, but when the woman reached out to touch her, Alanna shifted out of range. She covered it with a courteous nod. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you. Is there anything you require?”
“Just wanted to be sure everything’s right in your world. You looked a little . . . intense. If there’s anything that’s worrying you, you can feel as comfortable coming to me for help as you do your Mas—Evan. Especially if it’s daylight or Niall isn’t readily at hand. Keeping this place safe is my number one priority, and you’re part of that until you leave. I’m here for you as much as anyone, Alanna. All right?”
“Thank you. That’s very kind.” Surprised at the woman’s sincerity, Alanna still took a deeper inhale, under the guise of a relieved sigh. She didn’t detect Niall’s scent on the woman. Of course, Mel would have showered, and Alanna’s third-mark senses were muted by the damn injection.
“Niall and I shared a bottle of Jack last night. You’ve got him tied up in knots. He’s even a little goofy, teenaged-boy stupid.” Mel flashed a grin. “We’ve been f*ck buddies in the past, because he’s just a pure pleasure in that department, but his mind was all about you. I got a kiss or two and a squeeze of his fine ass, but I didn’t ask for more. His heart wasn’t in it. He mainly needed a drinking companion.”
Alanna blinked. “I . . . I have no hold on him. He is free to . . .”
“Save it, sister.” Mel nudged her, picked up one of the lemonades Alanna had just poured. “You were ready to throw down just now. I wouldn’t mind seeing your capabilities in that department, because you look like a lightweight to me, all that pretty hair and long lashes.” She flicked the former with a casual finger. “So, you want a wrestling match? I have a bet with the girls over at the table about how long you’d last.”
“I . . . No. I’m fine.”
“You can’t hurt me. I’m a third mark.” Her gaze swept over Alanna. “Not that I think that really matters.”
“I’ve been trained to fight.”
“Training and doing are two different things. I teach women self-defense here, but I also give them an outlet. They get surly with one another, I bring them to the sparring mats, let them work it out. Makes things move a lot smoother. An out-and-out fistfight works better than a catfight any day. Want to get rid of what’s griping your gut, like me putting hands on your man?”
He wasn’t her man, though she liked the way it sounded so much she turned away to pour Frank’s glass. “The one you’re drinking is Niall’s.”
“His loss.” Mel took several more healthy swallows. “Besides, he owes me. Despite his sighing over you, I did give him some relief. There’s something to be said for being all female, but having the grip of a man, if you get my meaning.”
Alanna narrowed her eyes as the woman sauntered away. Was Mel deliberately picking a fight? Mel confirmed it, glancing over her shoulder and rolling her eyes.
“You need a written invitation, girl?” she muttered. “Show him what you got.”
Niall knew her combat abilities. Still . . . As Alanna waffled, Mel put down the now-empty glass and looked across the compound where the men were working on the roof. “He’ll be ready for a break soon. I might just saunter over, take some of that sweat off with my tongue. He’s real sensitive around his throat. Can’t imagine why. You know, there’s a nice, shady spot behind that building, right up against the wall . . .”
Alanna hit her midbody. Mel was standing on the edge of the shelter, such that the difference in grade was enough to make her stumble. She recovered fast, catching Alanna around the body as she turned, tumbling them both into the grass. They rolled, pulled apart, but before Mel could recover her feet, Alanna followed up with a blow to the midriff, a sharp punch that hit where that lemonade had gone. Of course, Mel was a full servant, and things like that wouldn’t slow her down as much. She tackled Alanna with the advantage of sheer mass, and they rolled across the grass again.
When they regained their feet and danced apart, Alanna stripped off her overshirt, revealing the dark tank beneath. Mel got in a face punch, but Alanna swept her leg, landing on top of her again.
In some strange way, Mel was her ally, but Alanna was seeing red. A kiss or two . . . She visualized Niall kissing this woman the way he kissed her, Mel’s hands touching him where Alanna’s had. At a vampire gathering, she and Niall would touch other servants at the whim of their Master, but he’d chosen to touch this woman. Or to let her touch him. Pounding on Mel was a different approach from the rice, but one Alanna found she immensely preferred.
She managed a few more solid punches before she was plucked off the woman like a toddler.
“Here now, enough o’ that,” Niall scolded her, inserting his body between the two women when Mel sprang to her feet, blood in her gaze. “What’s got into ye?”
“It’s more like what got into me,” Mel scoffed. Alanna lunged past Niall, her fist whizzing so close to Mel’s nose the woman had to jerk her head back. The dark eyes laughed at her. Gave her a wink. “Pretty effective moves, Barbie. I’m impressed.”
“You’re testing her fighting skills?” Niall, keeping a firm hold on Alanna, gave her a glare.
“Yeah. And no. It’s a girl thing.” She nodded to Alanna. “You’ll need to make some more of that lemonade. You used up the last of it.” Picking up the other glass Alanna had poured for Frank, the security woman strolled off, offering a friendly smile to the table of staff members.
“What’s all this about, lass?” Niall gave her a shake. “I sent ye for lemonade, and you’re causing a row.”
“She started it. I’ll get you some more. Since she drank all of it, it will take a few minutes.” Tossing him a glare, Alanna stomped toward the canteen kitchen. At the swinging door, she spun on her toe. “I’ll bring it when it’s ready. Mel says there’s a nice shady spot behind the cottage you’re roofing.”
When she disappeared behind the door, she heard him speak to Frank, who’d come to investigate as well. At the sound of the two of them moving away, her shoulders eased. She shook her head at herself, then for some inexplicable reason, a smile crossed her face. Despite his irritation, Niall had looked impressed. She was a servant, not a doormat.
She’d also give Mel credit. The “bringing it to the mat” idea worked wonders. She felt much lighter than she had after she’d woken.
She found the men behind the cottage, lounging on the grass beneath leafy red maples. Colors had started changing for the fall, but the leaves weren’t yet dropping, except for a few that added to the comfort of their mattress. More self-conscious now, she handed Frank the lemonade, nodding at his courteous thanks. She was aware of the muscular redhead’s appraisal as she turned, but nothing that would be considered inappropriate or rude. When she went to Niall, her lowered gaze traveled over the big feet, the long denim-clad legs, the curve of groin below his belt and impressive bare terrain of muscle above it that mapped his upper body.
Yes, he was easy on the eyes, as Mel had made irritatingly clear. He had the overshirt she’d discarded, was idly rubbing the fabric between his fingers. “You have dirt on your cheek, and your hair is mussed,” he noted. “As particular as ye are about a napkin on the floor, I expected you’d tidy up after a scuffle.”
“You can drink this or wear it,” she responded. When he grinned, the sheer sensual impact of it proved to be too much. Heedless of Frank’s presence, she straddled him, sitting down on his lower abdomen. His hands landed on her calves, following her legs up to slip his thumbs beneath the hemmed cuffs of her shorts as she settled. When she put the cold glass against his chest, his skin shuddered like a horse’s flank.
Collecting some of the condensation dripping from the side, she painted it along his flesh like Evan might. As she followed the flat curve of his nipple, she watched it respond, draw up at her touch. In the end, the jealousy had only been a mask for the real issue. She’d missed his scent in the bed, his heat and strength. His closeness. She was far too aware of how short a time she was likely to have that pleasure. She wished he was in her mind so he could hear the thought, but she put it in her touch, her eyes. She wanted him to see it. She wanted him, period.
“Frank,” he said casually, “think you could take your lemonade elsewhere for a bit?”
“Sure.” The man’s amusement was obvious. “Ma’am.”
As soon as he was around the corner of the house, Niall’s hand closed around her wrist. His mouth was a firm, sensual curve. “You’re being very forward, lass.”
“You didn’t come to bed last night.”
“I thought I might be skewered.” His smile became rueful. “I drank too much, muirnín. For a third mark, that’s saying something. I wasnae much company for anyone. Mel left me sleeping in the field above the lake. Woke up with ants crawling in my arse.”
“You could have come home.” She touched his face with the other hand. “I’m here. Evan and I are here. I need you to . . .”
He took the lemonade away from her, sat it on a flat rock. “What do you need from me, Alanna?”
“For whatever time I have, I want . . . I’m not trying to demand things. But I need you . . . to treat me as yours. The only thing I’ve ever wanted is to belong to a vampire.” Only now she understood how much more that word belong meant. It was a specific, targeted need. “I’m yours and Evan’s. Yours,” she emphasized, because she liked how it sounded. She curled her fingers in the sleek arrow of hair on his upper abdomen as his hand covered hers.
“I’m not a vampire.”
“The two of you are the same, even if you’re different. Treat me as yours. Please. Like Evan said, but . . . I want that, too.”
He studied her for another few pounding heartbeats, then he lifted his hand. She sat still, though her breath caught as he slid his fingers along her throat. When she lifted her chin, he curved them around, holding her collared. Another trio of heartbeats, more rapid this time, and he constricted that grip, letting her feel the hold. The heat of it swept over her, tightening her nipples, making her bear down so her body pressed closer to his, her dampening p-ssy against the hard muscles of his stomach.
“Aye. Ye might belong tae both of us at that.”
In one quick move, he’d turned them so she was under him, her legs finding a place along his hips and thighs, his body seated firm against the core of hers. She gasped when she realized how hard his cock was, hard and thick, throbbing against her. Rubbing herself against him earned a quiet noise of reproof.
“You’ll be still. You’re mine, are ye?”
“Yes,” she whispered. She tried to put her hand on his face again, but he caught both wrists, pulled her arms over her head.
“Ye leave them there, muirnín. If you’re mine, I’m going to have full pleasure of what’s mine. I woke up with a huge cockstand and no snug, wet cunt to take it. Then there ye are, coming across the compound, a beautiful angel I want to profane with every lustful thought I have. Next I know, you’re fighting Mel like a wee demon. Nothing stiffens a lad’s cock like seeing two women fighting over it.”
He gave her an arrogant grin then, one she should have answered with a proper cut down to tease him, but she honestly couldn’t think beyond the fire burning inside of her. I’m going to take full pleasure of what’s mine.
“Please,” she whispered, showing that fire to him. “I need you inside me.”
Evan and Niall had taught her to wear her desire on the outside like this, but hadn’t warned her how it could consume the insides. Fortunately, seeing her need in her face ignited the same in Niall. He was done talking, but not done teasing her.
He pushed up the tank to find her naked beneath it, something he registered with a sound between conservative disapproval and full male approbation. She bowed up into his mouth as he covered a nipple, began to suckle, while his hands wandered down her body, opening the shorts. When his fingers quested under the waistband of her panties, finding her cunt swollen and wet, she breathed into his mouth, a wordless plea. With a quiet oath, he shifted off her enough to rid her of the garments, then he was moving down her body.
They weren’t in the vampire world, where being taken in the open like this was beyond remark. When that penetrated, she made a reluctant movement, a reminder, but his grip held her fast. “If you’re mine, lass, then you’ll be mine whenever I desire. In the end, I’m just a rough and crude lad who wants my way with ye.”
A rough and crude lad whose tongue was capable of wringing a poetic symphony from a woman’s body. He immersed himself in eating her p-ssy, licking her *, nipping at the labia, suckling her juices, plunging his tongue deep to swirl and taste and sample, while she writhed under his touch, bit down on the cries that kept building until she had to risk his displeasure to lower one of her arms and press her mouth against it. Instead, he pushed her arm back up, gagged her with his discarded T-shirt. He could have used the one she’d been wearing, but now she had the taste of him, his scent filling her nose. She bit down on it as he pushed her higher and higher, her legs now up on his bare shoulders, heels striking his back as she writhed. When he took one finger, lubricated from sliding into her wet folds, and slowly inserted it in her anus as he continued to tongue her cunt, pushing and withdrawing, she started screaming into the fabric.
He couldn’t speak in her mind, and his mouth was otherwise occupied, but she didn’t know if she could have waited for permission to come, regardless. The orgasm gushed from her, no time to beg or ask for anything.
When she was still shuddering from it, he braced himself over her body, keeping her ankles at his neck. He ripped open the jeans and slid into her to the root, her spasming tissues invaded by his engorged cock. He hadn’t been jesting—he was so thick and hard, and the orgasm had made her so tight, it was almost uncomfortable, but she reveled in it, still making small cries as his sweat-coated upper body slid along hers, an erotic sensation. Keeping her arms above her head, her mouth gagged by his shirt while he looked down at her with pure, feral possession in his eyes, had her body convulsing against him even more. She added to it, squeezing down, ankles locked over his shoulders.
I’m yours. But you’re mine, too. Whether or not Evan was awake to convey such a thought, she put all of it in her eyes, the strength of her body, and told him with all those things she wasn’t letting him go. That she’d defy even death to keep him, no matter how empty a promise that was.
It was easy to get pulled into the daily routine of the commune. There was the sense of being cut off from the world, of there being time for healing, for laughter, for quiet reflection. For creation, for whatever the mind and soul needed to explore. It made Farida Sanctuary one of the most remarkable places she’d ever been. There were short times she even forgot the scythe hanging over her own head, of Stephen lurking somewhere in her future. Perhaps he’d given up and would simply disappear. She was supposed to hope he was apprehended for the well-being of the Council, but Evan and Niall were teaching her how to have some of her own dreams. She knew they were futile, but it didn’t make them less of a stolen pleasure. In some ways, it made them even more bitterly sweet.
She helped in the kitchen, trading cooking skills with others. Working alongside the gardeners, she learned more of their craft, finding she had an intense interest in learning about plants, how they grew, how to tend them. Looking up throughout the day, she could always see a panorama of a harmonious community. Artists at work at various projects, children at play or being schooled in the pavilion. Sometimes it was their mothers being schooled, learning about the basics of home finances, or the more complicated world of legal proceedings, appropriate to their specific situations. Clay, paint, oils and chemicals mixed with the forest and lake smells, an unexpected complementary aroma that always pervaded the atmosphere.
Niall was far more than the rough and crude lad he claimed to be. He was an accomplished carpenter and handyman, a jack-of-all-trades, such that he was in demand for any type of repair or renovation put on the back burner until this visit. Yet despite his busy schedule, her Scot still found time to check on her throughout the daylight hours.
Near mealtimes he’d come through the kitchen to sample until he was chased off, though none interfered when what he came to sample was her. Pressing her up against a counter with unmistakable erotic intent, he’d steal a mind-numbing, knee-weakening kiss before he’d take off again, leaving her with a warming slap on the ass. He’d usually snatch a cookie or piece of meat as well. She’d try, unsuccessfully, to glare at him instead of smile. His charm and raw sexuality exonerated him from reproof. The other women were almost as captivated as she was by how he left her vibrating from his sensual assaults.
He’d taken her plea to heart, with a single-mindedness that was overwhelming. No less than twice a day, he’d surprise her on her way between tasks, making her aware of how closely he was keeping an eye on her while Evan slept. He might pull her back behind that cottage, or take her into the forest off the paved path. There he’d reaffirm her surrender to him, claiming her on all fours like a woodland animal, or putting her on her back and tying her hands with whatever bonds he’d tucked in his pockets. Then he’d work his mouth over her cunt until she was completely lost and helpless, open to the fierce thrusts of his cock, his own release.
As a result, her need only grew. Sometimes he stood up and started to put his clothes on, leaving her tied and naked so he could enjoy the pleasure of seeing her at his mercy. She’d rise on her knees, brace her bound hands against his thigh and pull him into her mouth, servicing him there in the wood. Then he might put her on her elbows and order her to spread her thighs, giving her a firm spanking for her wanton behavior. His flat palm would sting against her buttocks and labia, still so damp from his juices and her own that it made a wet sound. Often, he’d take her again, with the harsh grunts of a male animal and an appeal to any gods listening to save him from her insatiable demands. Yet by the end of it she was exhausted, proving he was more than her match.
Nighttimes were the best, for then she had the opportunity to enjoy both her Masters. Evan often painted down at the lake through the darkest hours of night. She could sit and watch him for hours, her body and heart humming in frequency with his graceful movements, his intense concentration. He could surprise her with his keen awareness of her presence. One night, he bade her remove her shirt, then put a pair of cuffs on her, hooking them to eyehooks on the gazebo walls she suspected Niall had installed earlier in the day. While she sat there, spread and helpless, he painted a field of flowers across her breasts with the soft, damp tip of his brush, using his fingers to apply the proper swirls and smudging. Then he kissed her, long and deep, and made her stand like that for the next couple of hours while he finished his painting. When he freed her, she was so intensely aroused she was trembling. Lifting her up against the wall, he sank deep into her, letting her cling to his shoulders, her face pressed to his shoulder as he brought both of them to release.
At dawn, Niall would take her to Evan’s bed so they could both have her as they desired, one working himself into her mouth while the other thrust into her from behind or front, depending on how they had her positioned. Or they’d both be inside her at once. Her face pressed against Niall’s chest, arms clinging to his waist as he hammered into her p-ssy, while Evan pushed into her backside, sending her into a near-blackout state from the pleasure.
She was used, pleasured, teased . . . sated. For the first time in her life, she felt she was fully serving a Master, the way she’d always desired. On top of that, she was now part of a community with people she cautiously called friends. Niall pointed out that the sanctuary members gravitated toward her because of her intuitive ability to determine what a person needed at any given moment. In less than a few days, she was considered as useful as any staff member. She would play with a child while his mother took a nap after an intense therapy session. Or strategically sit as a buffer at the lunch table between the others and one of the newer arrivals who was feeling shy. She’d use her steady calm to integrate them in the conversation, help them feel safe, yet included.
Most of the motivations and needs, worries and priorities, were fairly simple to her, compared to the complex mechanics of anticipating vampire needs. As such, only Miah and Nerida remained an enigma to her. She’d learned Mel and Frank were third-marked servants to both female vampires, though, and when she started seeing them together, the bond was obvious.
During one late supper, while the artists and residents chatted and women rocked children to sleep, she’d seen Mel with Nerida. The vampire was sitting on the woman’s lap, brushing and then braiding her thick, dark hair. When she was done with that, Nerida put her hands on Mel’s face, raining affectionate kisses on her mouth and cheeks, her temple.
Another night, close to the 3 a.m. hour, Alanna was bringing Evan some wine at the gazebo when her eye was caught by people on the dock. Mel, Nerida and Miah had been swimming, a unique thing to see because vampires had no buoyancy. However, all three were still wet, their dark hair sleek and dripping. Mel was stretched out on her back, her head in Miah’s lap. The woman was pointing out something in the stars while Miah played with her dark hair, tracing the thick braid across Mel’s breast. Nerida lay between their servant’s thighs, head pillowed on the Indian woman’s stomach, her arms curled over her hip, small fingers hooked in the belt loop of her wet cutoffs, listening to whatever story she was telling. Pausing to hear better, Alanna caught the singsong quality, as if Mel was chanting a poem.
After their wrestling match, Alanna had found herself meeting up with Mel more often. The growing bond was spurred in part because of their shared status as servants, but they also sparred once a day. Sometimes Mel used her to help demonstrate techniques to other women, but on one day when it was just the two of them, Alanna took the opportunity to find out more about her unique relationship with the two female vampires.
“Nerida and Miah . . . did you learn to fight from them?”
“No. My grandfather.” Taking a swig from a water bottle, Mel swiped at her sweaty forehead with her arm. They’d been working out in the open area behind the playground, and now she propped on a wooden snail. It was schooltime for the children, so they had the area to themselves. “He had one leg, but with that and a crutch, he could put me on my back in a heartbeat. Wily old goat. I taught Nerida and Miah, as did the founder of this place and his servant. They’re sponges. There’s nothing they won’t learn if it catches their interest. Pretty much anything that needs repair around here, they can jerry rig, but of course we all have other tasks, so unless it’s an emergency, it waits for its permanent fix until Niall gets here.” Mel grinned. “Where is he today?”
“He slept in this morning. I told Frank he’d catch up with him later to work on the plumbing at the admin cottage.” Alanna, looking toward the forest, took a sip from her own bottle. When Mel’s hand covered hers, she wasn’t easy enough with it yet to turn her hand and grip, but she did say what was in her head. “I don’t want to leave him when he’s like that. Evan has to order me to do it. I was afraid . . . but Evan told me he’d watch over him.”
Mel’s fingers tightened. “For all that they’re only here a few weeks a year, Niall’s presence is so large. I’m not sure what we’ll do without him. I worry about Evan without him, too.”
Alanna discovered her fingers had tangled with the woman’s, were squeezing them tightly. They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the birds in the forest, the wind moving through the trees.
“I just figured you’d finally worn him out for a change.” Nudging her with her hip, Mel pushed back the somber look Alanna knew reflected her own. “I’ve seen the mornings where you can barely walk, because the two of them have used you so hard.”
“They are very . . . attentive,” Alanna admitted.
Mel snorted. “The prissy ladylike way of saying they f*ck you blind, girl. And who needs sight that badly?”
“So,” Alanna said, clearing her throat. “Do you spar with them? Nerida and Miah?”
“Yeah. Like wrestling a pair of ferrets. They keep me on my toes. And regularly kick my ass, of course.” She lowered her voice, despite the fact they were well away from any listening ears. Human ones, that is. “Though with vampires, that can be more win than loss, right?”
Alanna blinked, not sure how to respond. Mel shrugged, obviously uncomfortable. “Sorry. Forget it.”
“No, it’s all right. You don’t get to talk about your relationship with them, do you?”
How vampires and non-InhServs worked out their relationships with one another had become a topic of intense interest to Alanna, as if she’d find the key to her own evolving one with Evan and Niall, no matter how pointless it seemed to analyze it. She wanted to hear more, and her obvious interest seemed to relax Mel.
The woman nodded. “Other than Frank and Niall, it’s pretty much only the founder’s servant, when they visit, and Elisa. She’s the servant of the vampire who taught Miah and Nerida to adapt as best they could.” All humor disappeared, her expression becoming dangerous, the Amazon warrior. “I sometimes wish we could resurrect that bastard who made them and kill him all over again. When he turned them, even though they were kids, they got some of the amped-up hormones that drive vampire adults. They crave sexual release for themselves and from their servants when they take blood, same as most vampires.”
“Oh dear,” Alanna murmured.
“Yeah. Frank tried like hell, but he’s never been comfortable with it, so they mostly use him just for blood. That’s not really the worst of it, though. They may have the bodies of children, but they have the hearts of women. They want relationships . . . love, and they won’t ever have that. Not for however many hundreds of years they live.” Mel took another swallow from the water bottle. “Not only do they have to stay hidden from the vampire world, no vampire or servant can get past the fact they look like kids. The ones who can aren’t anything they want near them.”
“You love them, though.”
“I can’t imagine life without them,” Mel said seriously, meeting her gaze. “And I love them as women. But even me . . . there are things they know I have a hard time with, no matter how I try. I guess there’s something in our chemical makeup, when we’re decent human beings, not f*cked-up twisted pervs, that won’t let us get past it. I mean Nerida . . . she f*cking smells like a little girl. I play with the kids here, and then I’m holding her and . . .” She shook her head, sighed.
“I learned more about their early years from the founder’s servant. She told me it got really bad once or twice, such that they were considering a suicide pact. The founder made them a promise. He said if it ever became too much, whether today, tomorrow or decades from now, he would help them with that, make it merciful.” Mel’s face tightened, showing her pain about that, but her acceptance as well. “When they decided to take me and Frank as third marks, they’d made a semipermanent peace with it. At least for the next three hundred years, according to Nerida,” she added wryly.
“They have this place, and most importantly, they have each other. And that was the solution, wasn’t it? What none of us can comfortably give, they give each other. It’s a weird thing to talk about. I should really stop.”
“No, I’m curious,” Alanna assured her. “I’ve seen you with them, and it’s an unusual . . . dynamic.”
“Yeah. No kidding.” Mel smiled fondly. “Nerida is the odd one. She can have sexual impulses, but it’s like the six-year-old’s in there, too, because nine times out of ten, those impulses have to do with affection. Closeness. She’s like an Olympic postcoital cuddler, without the actual coital part.”
Alanna’s return smile seemed to relieve the woman’s tension, her worry that the conversation was too much. Thinking how young she’d been when educated about her sexual requirements, Alanna realized she was probably more prepared for this conversation than most.
“The two of them are the only two vampires I know who like to swim. They hang onto a float and paddle around like beavers.” Mel chuckled. “Or they have me or Frank cart them around, hanging onto our necks. They felt your presence the other night, and appreciated your respect of our privacy.” Mel gave her a knowing look. “But what you saw, that’s the way it is. It’s probably the most difficult thing they have to cope with. Getting killed or preyed upon by a much stronger vampire, yeah, that’s rough, but finding someone to love, to whom we can give our soul, that’s the end of the rainbow for all of us, even vampires.”
Mel tilted her head up, closed her eyes so the sun could touch her face. Alanna saw her sadness, suffering for the two vampires she loved. “Nerida says it’s enough to have each other, because it has to be. She’s pragmatist and spiritualist both, and I think that helps Miah when she gets too bogged down in her emotions over it, over what will never be. Guess we all have to live with things like that, don’t we?”
“Yes.” Alanna felt the bite of that truth. Finding someone to love, to whom we can give our soul, that’s the end of the rainbow. “The more I discover about vampires, the more I realize how little I really knew about them, if that makes sense.”
“Truer words, Barbie.” Mel tugged her hair, which she’d braided for their sparring. “Hey, I’ll arm wrestle you. If I win, you take dish duty tonight. And don’t be a subby and volunteer to do them for me. I want to win the right to dump my least favorite chore on you, fair and square.”
“You’ll only cheat,” Alanna said archly. “Using your third-mark strength against me. Let me do them. You’re on the midnight shift, and your vampires will want to spend time with you. Evan will likely be painting and not need me right away. Plus Niall will be up by that time”—she hoped—“and can handle any immediate needs he has. Though he’ll likely demand something in trade.”
“You hope. Careful, girl. Keep it up and that funny walk will become permanent.” Mel cleared her throat. “Not sure I intended that entendre, but . . .”
Alanna rolled her eyes, bumped shoulders with her again. “I’ll do the dishes.”
Mel gave her a fond look, a stroke to her hair. Then she surprised Alanna by giving her a swift, fierce hug. “I’m glad Niall fell in love again, before the end.”
The woman strode away without looking back, probably knowing the tears her words would evoke. Yesterday, Alanna had played tag with the children. When a little girl tackled her, Alanna wrapped her arms around her and took them both to the ground, holding her gently as the child giggled. The child was picking grass out of her long hair, and she was doing the same to her silken curls. Looking up, she’d seen Niall staring at her the way Evan did a subject for his painting. As if he was seeing something remarkable, something that kept him in that one spot, enjoying it as long as it wanted to be before him.
Forgive me, Master . . . but I really want to come and see him.
That’s fine, Alanna. I haven’t been able to sleep anyway. It would help, if you came and stayed with him.
It was rare that she picked up emotion in Evan’s mind-voice so clearly. It made her hurry to their bungalow. Once inside, she headed for the cellar. All three of them had been sleeping below these past few nights, the intensity of their couplings such that Evan had kept them both there in the aftermath, until daylight and his servants’ responsibilities above called them away.
It was dark downstairs, though Evan had a lantern on a low setting as a night-light. The vampire was propped on an elbow, stroking Niall’s hair off his forehead as he slept, just as heavily as when she’d left hours before. She could tell Evan was fighting sleep hard himself, for the sun was well past when his body would force him to unconsciousness. She chastised herself for spending so much time with Mel and not anticipating this need. Evan shook his head, hearing it. As she shed her shorts and overshirt, she crawled over the mattress in her panties and thin tank to the both of them.
She’d decided this cottage was used for the founder when he came, because it had more of a finished basement than a cellar, with painted walls, a king-sized bed, electric hookups and a full bath with a shower comfortable for a man—and his servant—to use. There was even a sitting area with a spacious desk where Evan could consider slides or handle paperwork Alanna brought to him.
Now she curled up on the other side of Niall. Panic seized her. He was cool, not emanating heat as he usually did. Her gaze snapped up to Evan, but he was already in her mind, reassuring her.
He’s fine. I’ve heard other vampires call it death practice, the deep sleeps, the coolness of the body. His system is preparing . . .
No. No. She’d just found him, just found them both. But with Evan within touching distance, she couldn’t put her own feelings first, no matter how strong they were. Niall had been his for so much longer.
It took me only an instant to know he was mine. Perhaps it’s the same for all of us, Alanna. Time may deepen it, enrich it, teach us so many lessons, but that first moment, that spark—that’s what sets the fire burning forever.
She laid her hand over his, resting on Niall’s chest. The vampire nodded, acknowledging the touch, but didn’t take his eyes off his sleeping servant.
“Is he dreaming?”
“Yes. A dog . . . a collie. It belonged to him as a boy. You . . .” A faint smile touched his mouth. “He’s holding you in his sleep.”
She was lying on Niall’s outstretched arm, and now she reached behind her, drawing his hand to her hip. The arm muscles constricted, bringing her closer. Without prompting, she laid her head down on Niall’s broad shoulder. “You can sleep, Master,” she whispered. “I’ll listen to his heartbeat.”
The anguish that crossed Evan’s face was so strong and immediate she didn’t have to think. Reaching out, she cupped his jaw, caressed him. When he lifted those tormented gray eyes to her, she let her fingers slide to his nape, tangling in the silken strands there. With gentle pressure, she helped him do what he wanted to do. She adjusted so Evan laid his head directly on Niall’s chest, over his heart. The moment he rested it there, she could see the involuntary sleep that would pull him under starting to do so, but she eased his frustration with it, stroking his hair away from his brow, saying soft, unintelligible things. She held both of them, hoping to give them the strength they needed. Niall, to live as long as possible, and Evan, to let him go when the time came.
As for her, she’d found her strength. It was in the love she wasn’t afraid of acknowledging anymore, for them both. She would take care of them however she could, as long as she could.
When Niall’s other arm came up, sliding over Evan’s back, hand coming to rest on his side so he was holding her Master as well as her, she pressed her face harder against his firm flesh and let her silent tears give heat to its coolness.