24
WHEN Niall and Alanna departed, Lady Lyssa had turned her infamous ball-shrinking gaze upon him. “Now, to the other matter. Evan has submitted a request. He wishes to turn Niall, his servant.”
A ripple of response passed through the assembled Council members, none immediately positive. Lady Carola shook her head outright. “We have very firm rules about turning servants . . .”
As the Councilwoman glanced toward Lyssa, Jacob standing behind her, her voice drifted off. “Except under extraordinary circumstances . . . ”
Everyone knew that Lyssa had turned Jacob to save his life, against Council decree, a situation that had made her a fugitive for a short time. That process had been miraculously reversed when she visited the Fae world, but having a Council head who’d defied the most important tenets about vampires and servants made such absolutes problematic. It was something Evan was counting upon.
“Yes, that’s true,” Lady Lyssa said serenely. “Given that Lord Uthe is Evan’s sire, he has unique insight into this matter and would like to discuss extenuating circumstances.”
That was unexpected, though definitely not unwelcome. The enigmatic born vampire who’d been a Templar Knight had always dealt fairly with Evan. He met Evan’s gaze now, making Evan recall their meeting all those years ago. The vampire sitting by his deathbed in the middle of the night, the preternatural gaze studying him, the stillness of the powerful body. Evan had been so far gone then, all he’d wondered about the stranger was whether he could talk him into drawing one of his very sharp daggers and ending the agonizing pain of his existence. But he’d so fiercely wanted another option, imagining all the things he’d never get to paint.
Uthe had provided that other option. He’d told Evan what he had to offer, but he’d had very specific conditions. You cannot accept due to fear of death. Turning a human to a vampire requires far better reasons than that. For many of us, there is a calling that supersedes everything else material about ourselves. Gaze into your soul, boy, and tell me if you have it.
Evan gave his sire a bow. “I hold your counsel far above my own, my lord.”
The eyes of the Fae Lord standing behind Uthe flickered, making Evan think he’d said something of interest to Keldwyn. Like Alanna, he’d noted the connection between him and Uthe. Later, he might take advantage of his connection with his sire to find out more. See if he couldn’t presume on their relationship to get the unlikely chance to visit the Fae world, a place with limitless wonders to put on canvas.
Bloody eejit. Of all the things ye should be focusing on right now . . . Though Niall wasn’t speaking in his head, Evan could well imagine the Scot sternly doing so now. But the random thought actually helped him channel the tension away from his body, keep his expression calm, intent. Ironically it also kept him more focused on the one vital priority he had at this moment.
Lord Uthe inclined his head. “As you know, the tithe we take from the proceeds of Evan’s artwork has accumulated into a not-insignificant-sum over the years. Beyond that, his successes have prompted us to encourage an artistic culture among our ranks, expanding our focus beyond survival and politics.”
Lord Keldwyn had moved, though Evan hadn’t seen it. Remarkable, given that he’d been in Evan’s direct line of sight. The Fae was now in the back corner of the room, sitting on the ledge of a fountain. The fountain was graced by a sculpture of a kelpie, the seaweed-covered horse rearing, water pouring from his nostrils to the pool below.
“Many humans have his pieces in their homes. Thanks to Lord Keldwyn’s interest, recently they’ve even caught the interest of the Fae world. Evan’s contributions have created an unexpected bond and value between three worlds.”
So maybe a trip to the Fae world wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Evan shoved the thought away, imagining Niall giving him one of his patented severe looks. Yes, his art was a driving force in his life. But there was something far more important. Two somethings, in fact.
“Evan’s value is noted,” Lord Stewart said. “But does it bear weight on whether his servant would be an appropriate addition to our made vampires? As Stephen proved, quite tragically, we must make those decisions quite carefully, to avoid past mistakes.”
“It does bear weight on the decision.” Lord Uthe nodded. “Evan’s talent is of great value to us, but because of the wasting disease he had as a human, his strength as a vampire not only grows slowly, it grows more slowly as he ages, suggesting it will eventually plateau. Lord Brian is fairly certain of this.”
The glances at him gave him the familiar feeling of inadequacy, particularly before such a powerful assembly. Yet Evan bit back his usual rancor at the analysis of his strengths . . . or lack thereof. For the first time in his life, it might prove to his benefit.
“Niall is an exceptionally strong third mark,” Uthe continued. “If you recall, one of the reasons we have had concerns about turning a fully marked servant is that, in the instances it has occurred, the fledgling has accelerated qualities in strength, speed . . . things that could put him further up the hierarchy than the usual time and maturity allow.”
“He is not being turned in his youth,” Helga said thoughtfully. “He has been among us three centuries, has had time to mature past such issues.”
“You simply have a fondness for Scots,” Lord Stewart said without rancor. Helga beamed.
“My Torrence is a fine servant. I think my bias is based on sound knowledge.”
The male vampire chuckled. Lady Lyssa sat back in her chair. “We’re entrusting a valuable InhServ to Evan, and Niall would be a good companion and protector for them both. If he is willing.”
Her gaze shifted back to Evan. “As you know, no human can be turned to vampire without consent. Do you think he would be amenable?”
“I have not proposed it to him, my lady. I wanted to seek Council approval first. But rest assured, the choice will be his.”
Turning his attention to Lord Uthe, he executed another bow. “Long ago, you asked me a question.”
“If you could live forever, how far do you think you could go as an artist?” the stranger asked. “Is limited mortality necessary to achieve and maintain creative genius?”
Evan had just finished up one of his coughing fits. The stranger had calmly held his frail body, blotted away the blood on his lips, and now handed him a glass of water poured from the side table. At one time, his mother had rushed up to his attic room every time she heard one of the episodes start, but seeing her exhaustion mounting, he’d begged her to let him deal with it himself. He wanted to be as much of a man as he could manage, with whatever time he had left.
“Since I can only speak from a position of limited mortality—extremely limited mortality,” Evan replied, “I can’t say. But I do know I can stare at the same blue sky and find something different in it every moment. I don’t think it’s a matter of time; it’s a man’s relationship to time. The realization that there’s never enough, even in immortality. Look at God Himself . . . here before the very beginning of all things, and He never gets tired of meddling with us, right?”
He supposed that bordered on blasphemous disrespect, but seeing as he was poised on the edge of meeting the deity in question, he expected God Himself would address his impertinence.
His visitor smiled. “If you’re willing, I’ll give you the opportunity to test the theory.”
“And say you can do this unlikely thing”—Evan’s brows rose—“why would you offer it to me?”
“Because I want to see what a true artist will do with forever.”
“I see that same potential when I look at Niall,” Evan said, seeing the memory resurrected in Uthe’s gaze. “It’s not in every man, the wherewithal to know what to do with centuries, but there is a slow steadiness to him, like the growth of an oak over hundreds of years, where his imprint becomes a more vital part to the world around him with every year that passes. I ask that he be given the same chance you gave me, for the same reason.”
He paused. “Whereas you turned me so I could continue to put things to canvas, Niall is the canvas, the painting that I want to endure until the end of time. That way, as long as Fate permits it, he’s there for all of us to enjoy.” To love.
He didn’t add it, but he supposed it hung out there in the air, noticed but unspoken. He thought of how Alanna had put it together so quickly. A muse can be male, Master.
Should Niall agree, Evan would have two muses, and they would carry him through eternity. As long as they could put up with him. He suppressed the smile, but it didn’t dispel the tension he concealed.
“There’s something else about Niall that suggests his suitability,” he added. “He’s a sexual Dominant. He submits to me, but in those we’ve shared, it quickly rises to the top. Alanna responded to it almost immediately.”
“Explaining why she slipped and called both of you Master?”
The queen missed nothing, God’s truth. Next she’d ask if he’d catered to the notion, cultivated it in his servant, and that would be a can of worms. He’d defuse it by hinting at the truth. “Yes. I expect so. Being a submissive has never been a good fit for Niall. Because of that, as well as my travels, my art, we’ve had an unexpected relationship as vampire and servant. He has been of course in a position of service to me, but I’ve always suspected, in that particular regard, we are cut from the same cloth.”
“Very well. We will have you step outside while we discuss and come to our decision on both matters. But should we agree on all counts, I feel it would be appropriate for both of you to third-mark Alanna, to protect and facilitate her service. Do you disagree?”
“Not at all,” Evan said. He would welcome it. He was certain Alanna would as well. She was intuitive that way.
He’d rendered Niall speechless. Probably realizing that reaction wasn’t an automatic assent, Alanna bit back any congratulatory exclamation. She was watching the Scot’s face as carefully as Evan.
“Three hundred years ago, I refused to let you slip from my fingers,” Evan continued steadily. “And now Alanna needs us both . . .”
Niall’s gaze flickered, recognizing the manipulative tactic. But a vampire was a vampire. “I need you both,” Evan admitted. “But that said, it is fully your choice, Niall. Neither Alanna nor I will try to force your decision. You must come to this yourself. But there’s more to it. We would both mark you, Alanna. You would have two Masters.”
“I think you both already are,” she said simply.
“I need to think.” Niall rose.
Though he’d expected that, Evan bit back a feeling of disappointment. Instead he rose as well. “It’s not an easy decision.”
“Aye.” Niall nodded toward Alanna. “But don’t wait on me. Go ahead and mark her as soon as we reach that seventy-two-hour mark, so she can regain her strength.”
“No.”
They both looked toward Alanna. “No,” she repeated. “It feels like I should wait until the decision is made, whether yes or no. And the one choice a servant has is to be marked, right?”
Evan sat back down and grasped her wrist, drawing her attention to the pulse which was still far too thready. “Alanna, you’re very weak. The audience with the Council posed an unacceptable danger to you. Your body is human right now, and very fragile. To ensure it stays on this side of the curtain, you must be marked as soon as possible.”
When her lips tightened with uncharacteristic stubbornness, he sharpened his tone. “You’re not being fair to Niall. You’ll hasten his decision, and it’s not a decision to be made without thought. Whatever he chooses, we will respect it, and care for him as we always have. Whatever happens . . . we will bear it. As two or three, but it will be borne.”
It didn’t matter that the idea stabbed through his chest like one of Niall’s wooden stakes. He made himself look toward Niall as he said the next words. “When Niall came into my service, the choice I gave him was not a choice at all, not to a man of honor. I won’t do that to him again.”
Niall stared at him, his tawny eyes suddenly full of a great many reactions. Alanna relented, reaching for the Scot’s hand. “I’m sorry, Niall,” she whispered. “I know he’s right. But I’ve never been allowed to want, and I didn’t realize how . . . overwhelming it can be.”
Niall’s expression flickered with pain. Stepping close enough to press her head against his abdomen, he dropped a kiss on her smooth skull. “Muirnín . . .” He drifted off helplessly, but then he knelt, caught her chin, held it in thumb and forefinger, gazing at her sternly. “If ye see us both as your Master, he’ll mark you the moment the clock ticks to that seventy-two-hour mark. Whatever Fate decides, you’ll ease our minds, and it will give ye the strength tae serve one or both of us. Ye mind me?”
Her eyes closed tight, her hand clutched on his. “Yes, Master.”
The Scot needed out of here, needed room to breathe. Evan could see it. Letting him walk out without giving his answer was as hard for him as he was sure it was for Alanna. But the vampire understood how it must be.
I’ll watch over her, Niall.
Niall acknowledged the thought with a slight nod, then rose, holding on to her hand. “Remember ye only have the one job ’til you’re marked. Keep your arse in this bed and save your strength.”
She tilted her head, a wicked spark in her brown eyes. “You can’t order me around if you’re not a vampire.”
“That order came direct from Lady Lyssa,” he reminded her. But he brought her hand down to his belt, made her close slim fingers on it. Though he was as likely to use it on her in her current state as he would on a newborn, his severe look almost made Evan believe otherwise. Yes, the Scot would do just fine as a vampire. If he agreed to it.
“I can order you whether I’m human, servant or vampire, lass. If you think I willnae turn your skinny body over my knee and whale on ye until you mind, think again.” But he caressed her face. “Care for yourself, muirnín. You nearly killed us with worry.”
Her gaze sobered. Dipping her head, she put her lips to his knuckles. “I will. I promise.”
Niall stroked her sensitive scalp, but raised an eyebrow at Evan. “Either she’s promising to worry us to death or obey, I’m nae certain which.”
With a wink and a smile, he stepped back. But when he turned and strode for the door, they saw the tension return to his shoulders. It was clear the smile had only been to soothe her.
“You’re in his mind, Master,” Alanna murmured. “What do you think he will choose?”
Evan shook his head. “Some decisions can’t be predicted, even if you’re in a man’s mind.”
“Will you go to him?”
“No. But if he desires to come to me, I will be available. It’s his decision, Alanna. I must honor him enough to give him the room to make it.”
“Men put such store by honor.” She shook her head, frustration obvious on her features. “Women value love. Does he know how you feel?”
Evan cocked a brow at her. “A fairly insolent question for a servant to ask.”
She pressed her lips together. “It may help him make his decision, Master.”
“He knows how I feel. It is how he feels that is the question.”
The exertion of the conversation sent Alanna back to sleep soon after that. At Evan’s request, Debra left a trusted member of the estate staff at her bedside. He was only going as far as the gardens right outside her window, could even see her, but he wanted to know immediately if she experienced any distress. He wouldn’t have left her at all except he needed some air himself, a chance to evaluate the events of the day, as well as how it might end. The past three weeks had depleted him and Niall both, on many levels, and some wretchedly insecure part of him wondered if he should have waited to tell Niall when he was more rested, more optimistic.
When he could manipulate the decision. He and Alanna both had that quality, the inability to lie to themselves. She’d been trained to evaluate herself ruthlessly to prohibit any mental dissembling. He’d learned from the need to survive. A vampire “runt”—Niall’s pseudo-affectionate term—who lied to himself didn’t last long.
As he stood out there, studying the flowers, the dark sky and pattern of stars across it, he kept his mind intentionally blank, letting it fuel from the silence, the realization there was nothing to do now but wait and see how things unfolded.
Tracking the movement of a moth, he centered his mind, watching everything slow down. He followed the insect’s passage across a solar light, the way a petal quivered as she landed on it, then took off again. Closing his eyes, he saw Alanna at the cabin. Then at the art colony . . . then in Stephen’s hands.
Niall had leaped into that fight like an enraged grizzly. He’d be a formidable vampire in truth. However, should he decide in favor of that, Evan didn’t intend the Scot to feel bound to his side. No matter the Council’s preference, he would be as free as any vampire, able to choose Evan’s company or not.
He should have told him that. It might have swayed his decision. Perhaps if he . . . No. Niall would come to Evan before he made his final decision, ask some more questions, because that was the type of man he was. Right now, Evan owed him space.
“I was angry at you, when you asked Daegan if he could take her life.”
Opening his eyes, Evan saw the Scot sitting on one of the garden benches, knees splayed, large hands loosely linked between them as he leaned forward. Evan wondered how long he’d been there. He could have walked up and staked him. Perhaps Niall was right about his need to be more alert.
“Aye, ye do. You’re not closing your mind to me right now.”
“No, I’m not. I did know you were angry about Daegan.”
Niall inclined his head. “I understood it, though. If she’d had enough of a mind to know we were caring for her, year after year, being a burden—no matter that she couldnae ever be a burden to us—that would have been the worst kind of Hell for the lass.”
Evan nodded, but Niall wasn’t yet done. “You had to make that call, because you knew I couldnae do it. While I might enjoy warming her arse, the idea of truly harming her . . .”
“You’re a gentle man, for all your ferocity, Niall. I know that.”
“Am I too gentle to be a vampire?”
Despite the intensity of feeling that held him so very still, only a few yards from the man he cared for more than any other man he’d ever met, Evan smiled. “You know the answer to that as well as I. Your kind of gentleness fortunately does not lie in that direction.”
“No. I guess not. I’ve helped you with your annual kill for three hundred years,” Niall said thoughtfully. “I resolved it for myself, the way a hunter does. The purpose is to eat, to survive, so ye respect the sacrifice. You think about the life taken. Doesnae matter if ’tis a deer enjoying the warmth of a meadow sun, or a bloke thinking about meeting the lass of his dreams when he goes off to a club. When you keep company with vampires, life becomes both more sacred and more temporal. No.” Niall corrected himself. “When keeping company with a vampire like you.”
The bed of moonflowers was between them. Evan noticed a pair of squirrel statuary hidden in their foliage. “What are you thinking, Niall?”
“That day at the stream. Do you think of it?”
“Often.” Evan met his gaze. “I wanted you then and there. Especially when you got hard as a tree branch, despite that f*cking freezing water.”
Niall grunted. His gaze fell on the squirrels.
Damn it. The things that needed to be said might as well be popping up on cue card signs, held up by the lawn ornamentation. Glancing across the garden to the infirmary window, Evan saw the staff woman reading by Alanna’s bed, the girl still sleeping peacefully. He wished he’d already marked her, so he could let her hear this. Women took particular joy in being right, and their deceptively compliant InhServ was no exception.
“It’s not in our nature to feel regret, particularly in our dealings with humans. But I do feel that, toward how you came into my service.”
Niall lifted his head. “I was wondering about that. What ye said, about manipulating me. Didnae ken how to bring it up, though.”
“It wasn’t your responsibility to bring it up.” Sighing, Evan spread out his hands in an empty gesture. “You watched Ceana sicken, knowing the disease would never touch you because of the mark I gave you. You watched her die, watched your daughter die, knowing whether it had happened then or forty years later, you wouldn’t be able to follow them for centuries. You were denied the hope of being reunited with them in a mortal life span. There’s a comfort to that aspect of mortality that those of us who are immortal will never comprehend.”
Evan shifted. “And while you were going through that, all I knew was that I wanted you as my servant. I thought myself so magnanimous; waiting for your family to not need you anymore, but in reality I was as much a bastard as the clansman who used your love of your family to put you in that battle that nearly took your life. He knew how easy it was to manipulate your fate, because you had no power against him.”
Niall’s brow creased, his mouth tight. Though Evan could plumb his mind if he chose, he didn’t now. He wanted it to be clear he spoke to Niall as an equal. It might not hold beyond this moment, but he owed the man that regard.
“I was once human, but it was so long ago, and things change when you become a vampire. You forget those inclinations, the emotions. So I can’t say I understand your feelings enough, even now, to claim empathy, or even a great deal of sympathy, because I’ve never stopped wanting you. I might be sorry for what it did to you, but I’m not honorable enough to regret it.”
Those handsome lips, the ones he’d tasted countless times, twisted in a wry expression. He’d felt their demand, felt them on his cock and other parts of his body, but now they held power over him with their simple silence.
Evan rose, paced over to a stand of dogwoods. A birdbath hung on a chain from it, and someone had put a silver quarter in it, like a wishing fountain. He wondered what had inspired the attempt to use it that way, but it underscored the point. Vampires could have wishes as much as humans. And just like humans, they often found wishes didn’t come true.
“You’ve always held a part of your heart away from me. I have your regard, affection, your lust . . . but I don’t have your love, because I’ve never earned it. I have your mind and soul, but I don’t have your heart. Just like you told Alanna.”
Saying it aloud was more difficult than he’d expected. For women, speaking painful truths aloud might be a purging, but for a male it was like engraving it in stone, making it an immutable truth. It made him realize how much he’d truly wanted that from Niall, but he couldn’t blame the man for not offering it. It was his own fault.
Niall rose, coming over to the birdbath. As he trailed his fingers over the glistening quarter, he made the shallow water ripple. They’d known each other for so long. From the look in his eyes, Evan knew he was turning things over in his mind, slow and steady. To give him that time, he backed off a few steps, taking Niall’s bench, feeling the boards warmed by the Scot’s fine backside, those powerful thighs.
“You made me want ye when I wanted to hate ye,” Niall said at last. “When I did hate you. Yet ye took me so many places. Before Ceana died, she said ‘Once our bairns are grown, go with Evan. Have the life you’ve always wanted.’ She knew, no matter how I tried to deny it. So I’ve never thanked ye for it. You never asked for my thanks”—a grim smile touched his lips—“only my service, and the pleasure my body could offer ye, but still. You gave me quite a life. And now, here at the end of it, like the blooming of a first flower in spring, ye gave me her.”
Lifting his head then, he turned and met Evan’s gaze. “So you’re right. Ye didnae have my love, not that way. Not ’til her. Ye would have gone after Stephen, no matter who she was, as a matter of honor. But that’s nae how ye fought him. I felt your rage. Saw the way you held her afterward, the way you looked at both of us. It was like a key in a lock. So rusty I thought it wouldnae turn, but it did, and I found it wasn’t a matter of you not having my love. Ye always had it, and the seed for it was planted that first day, just as Alanna suspected. I held it locked inside myself, afraid to give it to you. Then I thought maybe you didnae want it. Ye always seemed more interested in my soul and mind. But I watched you with her, and that’s when I saw your heart.”
“Alanna told me that men value honor,” Evan said, his mouth absurdly dry. “And that women value love.”
“I’ve often thought ye think more like a woman.” Niall’s gaze gleamed, but then he sobered. “I knew how humans love, understood it from that perspective. But through her, through how she served ye, how she viewed herself, I could finally ken how a vampire loves, what it looks like. How you love. Fierce, deep and quiet, like a predator. That key . . . everything else opened up, a book flipping backward through all the pages we’ve written, and I put it together.”
He dropped to his heels then, comfortable in the pose as he braced his elbows on his knees and templed his fingers. “That night on the battlefield. You drove the looters off of me, took me to safety. Through the pain of the marking, because ye had to do it all at once, you kept gripping my hand. I broke several of your bones, but you never let go. When I had fever after, ye brushed the hair from my forehead, gentle as Ceana might have done.”
“Niall . . .”
“I’m going to finish it, so best not try and stop me.”
Evan pressed his lips together. “Already acting like a vampire.”
“No. Just myself. I expect you’ll take your pound of flesh for it, but that’s something I’ve learned to anticipate.”
“You keep on that road, I won’t let you finish.”
“Aye, ye will. Because I need to say it.” Niall held his gaze. “Over the years, you’ve had your pleasure of me, taken my pain as part of it.” His lip curled. “That’s your way. I’ve seen you . . . watch me, study me, as if ye were trying to figure something out. I finally understand, Evan. I had to step out of what I am and into what you are, but then it all made sense.”
Rising, he came to Evan, dropped to one knee in front of the bench where he sat. Though his palms burned with the desire to take, to touch, Evan forced himself to remain still, curious as to where his servant was going with it. Reaching out, Niall touched his face, startling him with the gentle possessiveness and authority in the touch.
“It’s not about wanting someone to love you the way you love them. It’s about knowing in your soul when they’re loving ye with all their ability to love and more, pushing themselves further than they thought they could go, whatever shape or form that is, and realizing what a gift that is. Though it’s a guid long life, it’s never long enough for any of us to refuse love when offered. Sic as ye gie, sic wull ye get.”
You’ll get out of life as much as you put in. Evan was at a loss for words, such that those brown eyes were suddenly dancing, the hard mouth easing. “Not much ye can say, is it? I’m still your servant. If ye tell me you’d be happy to die for me, all that means is you’d be happy to murder me.”
“Ass.” Evan shoved at his shoulder. Niall fended him off, though he caught Evan’s forearm and held on to it, large fingers curling into Evan’s flesh. They stayed that way a moment, Evan staring at the point of contact, feeling every inch of pressure tingling through his nerves. Niall hadn’t put on a shirt, so his hand was on that first dragon, fingertips on the third mark. The chai symbol, the sign of life.
“Set me as a seal upon thy heart . . . for love is as strong as death; jealousy is as cruel as the grave: the coals of it are coals of fire, which hath a most vehement flame.”
He lifted his gaze to Niall’s face, and the power of the man’s glance burned like that flame. “King Solomon.”
“I ken my Bible,” Niall said, a mild reproof.
“Yes. I’ve loved you, no matter all of it,” Evan said quietly. “Uthe wanted to know if immortality could steal inspiration. It didn’t. But to lose both of you, to lose the stubborn, rockheaded Scot who’s been my constant companion, my friend, my servant, for three hundred years, and to lose the woman who brought the wall down between us, at the same time? My art wouldn’t survive that, Niall. I’m not supposed to influence your decision, but I will tell you the truth. Your loss will do what nothing else can. It will take away my desire to live.”
Niall swallowed hard, his hand coming up to clasp Evan’s wrist. “I gave ye a hard time about forcing Alanna outside her comfort zone. Making her become more than she was, despite the short time she had left. I was wrong about that. But it did make me wonder. I know why you’re with me now. But why, all those years ago, did you follow me? Care for my family? Give me the time with them?”
“Lord Uthe told me I see things others can’t see, and I try to put it in a language the rest understand better.” Evan shrugged. “I’m not sure about that, but there are things I see, feel, in your soul. I can’t articulate them, but I follow them, the same way I follow the muse, not really understanding, but hoping, thinking, believing, that if I follow a certain path, things will unfold as they should.”
“And you determine what that ‘should’ is?”
“No.” Evan shook his head. “Not like you’re thinking. I don’t even know the outcome. I just know that way lies the masterpiece. If I’m wrong, then it’s a discarded film or canvas. Or the loss of a lost soul. But it’s better to fight for a lost soul than to leave it lost. That’s one thing I’m sure of.”
Hesitating almost like Niall had, that first time he’d touched Alanna after she woke, Evan at last curved his fingers into Niall’s hair, needing to stroke, to touch, to hold. Niall tilted his head enough to show he welcomed the caress, and Evan knew he wouldn’t restrain himself much longer. If Niall had given him the answer he thought he had, he wanted his mouth on his.
Like Alanna had done to him, Niall slid his grip to Evan’s hand, brought it to his mouth, pressing his lips hard against his knuckles.
“Niall . . .” He was going to lose control, crush the fragrant flower beds with the weight of Niall’s body, his own on top of it. Lyssa might have given him the two things he most wanted, but she’d end up eviscerating him over her mangled pansies.
The Scot lifted his head. “Outside of the times when we were with other vampires, and it was required, I never called you Master. I guess you understood that.”
Yes. He’d never demanded from Niall what came so naturally to Alanna’s lips, and soon it wouldn’t apply. Not that it had ever been an easy fit.
“You encouraged her to see us both as her Master. You’ve been planning this awhile.”
“Well, not her part of it, but I wrote the first letter to Uthe about turning you six months ago, when I noticed you sleeping more.” Evan ran his knuckles along Niall’s jaw, paused there, just holding that touch, pressing against his jaw with the sudden surge of feeling.
Niall put his hand over his. “Evan.”
Evan shook his head. “Let me get this part out. If you choose to become vampire, your will is your own. You’re free to be with me or leave, as you desire. You served the oath I imposed, but I will never impose another on you.”
“Like you could. Skinny Jewish kid.”
Evan smiled, but there was a pain in his heart. “You owe me an answer.”
Niall nodded. “What’s that name you call me?” he asked.
“Neshama.”
“Aye. Neshama. Your soul. Well, your soul never leaves ye, does it? It is what ye are.” Niall’s jaw tightened. “I’ve picked up a bit of Hebrew myself over the years. Moreh . . . teacher. Or adon . . . Master.”
Niall beat him to it. Before Evan could initiate anything, he was tasting his Master’s mouth, demanding, delving in, giving him everything he wanted for this moment . . . almost.
Digging his fingers into the Scot’s long, thick hair, Evan gave as good as he got, but at a certain point, he let Niall take the lead, because he was savoring the feel of it, Niall wanting him. When the man lifted his head, his mouth was cut where his passion had brought Evan’s fangs into it. Evan licked off the blood, sucking on the lip enough to cause a rumble in Niall’s throat.
“Adon technically means ‘lord’.” He spoke against Niall’s mouth. “I’m not one of those.”
“Depends on who ye ask.” Niall closed his hand on Evan’s wrist, and the two men held there, Evan tilting his head so they were eye to eye. “I’m here, Evan. My body, my soul . . . and my heart. They’re yours. I give them to you freely, and ye’ll never have to ask for them again.”
Evan swallowed twice, vowing he’d knock himself unconscious before allowing tears to fill his eyes. Niall’s tawny gaze narrowed, his fingers brushing Evan’s face. “I didnae . . . I didnae think it mattered to you. Not that much.”
“Very few things matter more,” Evan said tightly.
“Aye.” Niall let his fingers slide down Evan’s sternum, dipping into the open collar of his shirt and slipping several buttons to caress his bare flesh. “I’m hard and ready here . . . Master. I want ye. All of ye. And I want to take.”
His gaze was suddenly fierce and burning, his meaning clear. Evan felt his testicles draw up at the thought of it. So many years, and it was something he’d never offered his servant. Despite Niall calling him Master, it didn’t feel like he was asking. Instead it was somewhere between harsh begging and adamant demand, Niall’s constant ability to straddle the line between servant and something entirely not-servant.
Evan dipped his head, barely a shift of motion. Niall slipped the other buttons, pushed the shirt off Evan’s shoulders, but left it there as he traced the pale lines of Evan’s collarbone, down his chest, over a nipple. Evan’s fangs unsheathed, his bloodlust rising as his instincts perceived the challenge, the emotional intensity of it. Niall leaned in, putting his mouth to Evan’s throat. As he did, Evan banded an arm around his shoulders, holding him fast. He let out a growl of his own as Niall bit down hard enough to draw blood, to taste him.
He stroked over Evan’s ribs, down to his waistband, working at the belt, sliding it through, opening the slacks. Male impatience took over, such that when his grip closed over him, Evan caught his hair, pulling his head to the side so he could sink his fangs into that delectable throat, drink deep. His servant. His lover. His friend.
He wanted Niall as well, wanted him with that fierceness the Scot understood now, with his heart just as open. Rising, he drew them both up, and when Evan retracted his fangs, licking the blood off his lips, Niall tugged him over to a patch of soft grass. He worked his way around Evan, tasting his throat, trailing his mouth over his shoulders, his hands sliding into the loose waistband of the slacks to caress his hips. As he pulled Evan back against his broad chest with an arm banded around his chest, he reached into the slacks and underwear to scrape his upper thigh with his nails, close to Evan’s rising cock.
“F*ck, Niall.” Restraining his natural desire to dominate gave the moment an edge sharp as a knife blade, but Evan held back. He wanted to experience his servant unleashing a passion he’d kept pent up for far too long.
Niall took them both down to their knees, pressing himself up behind Evan, then shifted away to nip down his spine, tracing it with his tongue as he tugged the slacks off Evan’s hips. He didn’t waste time, immediately cupping Evan’s ass in rough squeezing hands, thumbs teasing the seam. When he pushed Evan forward, wanting him on his hands, Evan might have resisted, except Niall’s heated, moist mouth was suddenly on his rim, licking and working into him, an indescribable sensation that sent his cock jacking up hard against his belly.
Evan dug his fingers into the grass. He’d turn the tables eventually, roll the Scot over and thrust into him hard, savoring that muscular ass that could squeeze down on his cock in an excruciating, perfect way.
“Ah . . .” Niall’s tongue was devil-inspired. Then Evan detected the scent of lubricant, knew his servant was working it over his thick cock. He pushed up and turned, capturing Niall’s wrist. When he took over the task, he watched the Scot’s breath shorten, his eyes get more dangerous and determined with every pumping, slick stroke. Evan could make him come in his hand, and Niall knew it. He could turn it into a wrestling match, but of course Evan would win. So the Scot went for a more devastating tactic.
“Master . . .” He breathed it, his face harsh, intent. “I want to f*ck you. I need to f*ck you.”
Evan caressed Niall’s bare chest, fingers slipping over the dragon, the chai mark. His servant had spent centuries embracing a life he wasn’t sure he deserved, or should want as much as he did, but in the end they’d come to this, to celebrate what they’d been given. It filled his heart, such that he knew he’d give Niall what he desired.
With a feral smile, Niall took Evan’s wrist, began to twist it slowly, an armlock that would turn his body around, ending up with that arm up against his back as Niall pressed him to the ground. Evan allowed it, the slow motion an excruciating buildup as Niall at last let him go, pushing Evan down beneath him so he could brace his arms on either side of Evan’s waist, tease his spine once again with his heated mouth.
“Have ye ever done this, moreh?”
Evan shook his head. “You will be the first, neshama.”
He could give him that as well, but his servant gave him back something even better, words that sent heat jamming straight into Evan’s balls.
“I’ll be the only.”
Niall slid an arm around his chest, fingers stroking Evan’s nipple, his sensitive flesh, as he pushed against that virgin opening. Evan pushed back, not insensible to how it was done, and felt the stretch of his servant’s substantial cock. He didn’t fear pain, especially not in the face of the emotional pleasure it was to take him inside, but he let out a groan as Niall broke through those two sets of muscles, coming to rest deep inside of him, filling something Evan hadn’t even realized had been an empty part of his soul.
Balance. Niall drew back, slid in deep again, and Evan let out another low grunt of deep need. Niall’s lips were on the back of his neck. “All right, Master? I dinnae want to hurt ye. Not that way.”
His protective Scot. It made his cock harder, his body crave Niall’s possession even more. “It’s a good pain, neshama. Don’t stop. Take what you desire. I want to feel your demand.”
Some orders Niall would never have difficulty following. The Scot responded instantly, withdrawing to thrust in again, harder. Evan pushed back against him, encouraging, that moment of impact a starburst of pleasure inside. “Blessed Christ,” Niall muttered, and did it again. “You . . . feel . . . so . . . f*cking . . . guid.”
His fingers dug into Evan’s hip, the other pressed against his heart. Evan worked himself back against him, his cock leaking pre-cum into the grass, then Niall’s hand shifted to it. He was greedy, his servant. He wanted it all, wanted them to come together. He worked Evan with three centuries of knowledge of his body, even as his body instinctively kept hammering, seeking its own pleasures.
“F*ck . . . yes.” Evan gasped it out, fingers digging into the ground. “Niall . . . come for me.”
“You . . . too. Now.”
They managed it together, bodies bucking together in the moonlight, Niall holding on tight, never flagging in his stroke of Evan’s cock, no matter that his own pleasure came crashing down on him. As they both released with primal groans, Niall’s face was pressed into Evan’s shoulder blades, his teeth sinking into flesh.
They took their time working down to a slow, even rhythm again, both panting. Niall stayed within him, and Evan allowed it, only pressuring them gently so they were on their sides on the soft ground. Niall pressed up inside him, his hand still massaging Evan’s cock. He could do this all night with him.
“If only the lass were here with us,” Niall rumbled. “Think of what we could do with her. She could have her mouth on ye right now, her wee nipples so tight and cunt so wet, wanting the both of us. How long would we keep her waiting?”
“Until she begs, of course.” Evan pushed into his hand. “Harder, neshama. I want to feel that grip.”
As he obliged, Evan felt the blood coursing back into the organ, readying itself. He’d take his ass hard and rough, giving them both pleasure . . . again. Like Niall, though, he felt her absence.
“If I was in her mind, I could let her feel this. See it.”
“She’d want us to do it right in front o’ her hospital bed. She’d spread her legs and stroke herself, driving us mad. You’ve created a monster, Evan.” But Niall’s lazy tone was amused. “Ye get much harder, I’m going to feel like I’m taking a pile driver.”
“Your pain, my pleasure, neshama. The vampire way.”
Niall grunted. “Guid thing we’ll both be vampires. No indulging that female nonsense, telling her we love her all the time. Otherwise, she’ll think she can make me do anything she wants.”
“She already knows she can do that. Her soft bear.”
Evan laughed as Niall shifted his grip to a headlock, putting pressure on his throat. Turning the tables, he slipped the hold and pinned the Scot on his back, putting his whole body down against Niall’s, his mouth on his.
He’d better savor it. His dominant strength wouldn’t last forever. Niall’s power would surpass his eventually. Things might change.
But Evan wasn’t a vampire who feared change. Change was what unfolded new, more amazing landscapes for him to capture, whether those landscapes were a mountain range, or a man’s soul.