23
THE Savannah headquarters had an aesthetic appeal the intimidating Berlin fortress had lacked. There was ample underground housing for vampire guests, with grounds and amenities suitable to the stature of the Council members who met and stayed there while conducting business. Brian had even relocated a section of his research facilities there, taking up one full wing of the estate.
Beyond being the queen’s preference, the new location was Lyssa’s pointed way of showing her firm grip on the Council leadership didn’t require the smoke and mirrors of ghoulish surroundings. The thought gave Evan grim amusement, and a grateful heart, given the queen’s support of Alanna’s preservation.
True to Debra’s information, the staff infirmary had a large picture window overlooking a section of the vast gardens. The hospital bed was far more comfortable than the necessary gurney cot they’d used in the soundproofed room. Debra had tucked a comforter with a sea green pattern of ocean waves over Alanna, so she was no longer swathed in institutional-style bedding. Niall brought in a flower arrangement Evan knew he’d pilfered from one of the opulently appointed Council bedrooms, but he decided to ignore its origins.
The Scot sank into one of the guest chairs, one that Debra had made sure could accommodate Niall’s considerable bulk. The lab tech missed nothing. Evan wondered if she ever slept, since he’d never come into the lab during the past three weeks when she wasn’t here, or at least close by, running an errand for her Master. He expected Brian would be lost without her. He knew the feeling.
Niall put his hand over Alanna’s pale, slim one on the covers. “What do ye think?” he asked gruffly.
“I think she didn’t fight this long and hard to leave us now. She’s just exhausted.” He shifted his gaze to Niall’s haggard face. “She’s not the only one that needs sleep. Go to bed, Niall. I’ll watch over her.”
“You first. Ye look far worse than me. ’Tis three hours to dawn.”
“It wasn’t a request.”
Niall gave him a nasty look, but Evan reached out, gripped his neck in one hand. “Go to sleep, man,” he murmured. “She’ll think she’s gazing at a corpse, she wakes up and sees your face right now.”
Niall nodded to a nearby cot. “I’ll sleep there.”
“You’d be better off in the quarters they provided for us.” The quarters both of them had barely seen except to change clothes. “I’ll be with her, Niall. I promise. I won’t leave her side.”
Niall looked down at his hands. Evan could tell the man was struggling with something. He could have looked in his mind, but Niall was right; he was as exhausted as his servant. He waited for him to say it.
“I cannae leave, Evan. I’m not trying to be an arse about things. I’m afraid she might wake up, and say something, and that will be it. I’ll have missed it. Ceana . . . she died when I was outside taking a piss. Twenty seconds, maybe, and she was gone. I didnae ken . . . maybe she said something. Maybe she would have cursed me.”
“For being a good husband, a loving father, a man who stood by her?”
Niall lifted his head. When the Scot leaned forward, touched Evan’s face over Alanna’s thin legs, hidden in the quilt, Evan stayed still. During the past twenty-two days, there’d been no Master or servant, just two men enduring something unbearable. It was a hell he never wanted to experience again, but he had a feeling it would replay itself on a nightmarish series of works. Marcus would call it his Dark Period and try to force him to wear Goth clothing at gallery openings.
The Scot’s mouth curved in a tired, grim smile. “You’d look like shite with a safety pin through your eyebrow.”
“I should hope so.” Evan closed his eyes despite himself as Niall’s fingers slid to his jaw. The Scot had such remarkably gentle hands. They could also be rough, passionate, demanding. Evan always countered the demand with demand of his own, forcing submission in their pleasure, for that was a vampire’s nature, and Niall relished the fight, but this was simply a moment to savor. There was no energy to do anything else, but the quietness of it felt right.
Niall rose. “I’ll go, then. Aye, I’m being foolish. You’ll wake me if she . . .”
“Count on it.”
Niall nodded, then turned. Evan watched his servant move to the doorway, but once there, he stopped. He didn’t turn, but his unsteady voice came clearly over his shoulder to Evan.
“These past few weeks,” he said, “waiting on her, praying, hoping for her, wishing I could tear that bastard apart, I could see the same thing happening to you. Yet until today, until she woke . . . I reached out tae you because I needed your strength.” The Scot straightened, faced him. “You’re nae the biggest of this lot, Evan, but there’s a core to you I’ve relied on to bear all my pain and regrets. You’ve cared for me, no matter all that.”
He’d told Alanna that Jewish men were more susceptible to emotional displays, but they were never acceptable in the vampire world. However, even if every vampire Evan knew was crowded into this room, he’d still do what he did now.
Rising, he went to his servant. “You’re not being foolish,” he said, putting a hand on his jaw. Niall’s eyes closed, and he turned his face into Evan’s palm, the wide shoulders dropping, body fairly crumpling, but Evan caught his weight, held him close. It wasn’t just Alanna the past few weeks had nearly killed. He could feel Niall’s utter exhaustion, so deep. If this had shortened his life further . . . Panic at the thought squeezed him. He shared some of Niall’s same fears, after all.
“I’ve changed my mind,” he said, low, gripping the man’s hair. “You’ll sleep on the cot here. I want both my servants where I can see them, touch them.”
He didn’t care that the mark was gone. Alanna was his servant. He’d imprinted on her soul, no matter the lack of physical binding, and he’d do whatever he could to keep both of them as long as possible. Even if he had to make a deal with the devil to do it.
Alanna swam in that gray mist, too tired to think, but content, easy. She heard men’s voices, men she knew. Trusted. Sometimes one of them laid next to her, spinning in that world with her, one hand on her stomach or hip, the other stroking her bare scalp. Was her hair gone? She was like a babe in truth, curled up and drifting in a quiet, womblike world.
Soft rays of sunlight penetrated her gray dawn. As she rode those beams, passing her hands through them, she felt warmth on her face. The light brush of flower petals, their fragrance.
“Wake up, muirnín. Our Master needs you.”
She responded to that as she responded to nothing else, trying to push toward where the light was brightest.
“Easy. Take your time.” Her Master’s voice. “Don’t rush. Come to us like a butterfly. Just float in this direction.”
The words were spoken in a warm voice, but they were an order nonetheless. She floated, even putting out her arms like wings, entranced by the way it felt to let them glide up and back like that. She was moving toward something, something that took shape, shadows and silhouettes. She recalled nightmares, things so horrifying she didn’t dare turn around for fear they were behind her. She was moving toward safety. Toward their arms. The nightmares wouldn’t outrun her.
She opened her eyes, and there they were.
Her arms were out to her sides, just like in her mind, and now she let one of them float into Niall’s grasp, the other already in her Master’s. She wasn’t sure she could breathe. Were they real? They had to be.
She spoke their names, but her voice was not her own. It was a weak, broken whisper. Evan squeezed her hand. “Lord Brian says you’ll likely get your vocal cords back once you’re third-marked again, though your voice quality might be different.”
“A sultry rasp, like a Hollywood starlet, muirnín.”
Third-marked again? The warmth she’d felt from their presence, their touch, was swept away with a renewed awareness of the cold emptiness. She had no marks at all, belonged to no vampire, was bound to no one. She clutched at their hands, panic in her grip. “Why? Can’t you . . . Master. Don’t want me anymore . . . ?”
Evan’s face changed in a heartbeat from concern and welcome to an emotion so strong she didn’t have a name to it, but it was the most reassuring thing she’d ever seen. “I will want you forever, Alanna. I’ve asked the Council to consider me as your permanent Master. But they must make the decision.”
“One which requires more input.”
Her gaze shifted to a man standing at the foot of her bed. “Cold. Cloak . . . on my shoulders. Blue eyes. Jacob.”
His blue eyes warmed. “Good to see you with us again, Alanna,” he said gently. With the ease of a man used to touching and pleasing women—in fact, she recalled his primary job was to do that for one of the most difficult and intimidating females she knew—he put his hand on her covered foot, a small protrusion beneath several layers of linens, and squeezed.
“The Council wants to ask Alanna some questions.” He directed the comment to Lord Brian, who stood back from the bed, allowing them access to her. “When will she be up to a visit from them?”
Horror flooded her. She shook her head, finding her hand fastened on Niall’s shirtfront. “No . . . Council doesn’t attend me . . . like this. I . . . get dressed. Properly. Proper audience. Go to them.”
“Muirnín, you’re weak as a newborn. Ye cannae even stand yet.”
Niall’s hand covered hers. That touch felt so good tears welled up in her eyes, despite the fact her mind was on the Council’s request. He patted them away with a handkerchief, telling her it was not the first time tears had spontaneously generated.
She looked toward Evan in mute appeal. The vampire studied her, then gave a slight nod. “Jacob, would they permit an audience with my serv—Alanna, at the midnight break? We can prepare and carry her there. She feels it isn’t befitting for the Council to come to the bedside of a servant.”
“The Council tends to make their own decisions about what befits them.” Jacob’s tone held a mild reproof, though he nodded in deference to Evan. “But I’ll advise my lady that she might be more coherent and prepared for their questions if she came to them in the appropriate setting. I’ll suggest tomorrow evening, the dinner hour, because they have plenty to keep them busy tonight.”
He gave Alanna a pointed look, then glanced at Evan once more. “If she can’t manage it then, Lady Lyssa has no problem coming to her. Don’t let her overdo.”
“We’ll make certain o’ it,” Niall said. “No matter whose the Council thinks she is.”
“Niall.” Evan shot him a warning glance.
“We’ll see you then.” Giving Alanna a warm nod, Jacob turned, putting a hand on Niall’s shoulder. No words were exchanged, but Alanna fathomed both compassion and warning in Jacob’s face. Niall’s jaw tightened, but he gave the other man a slight nod. With a cordial glance toward Brian and Evan, the queen’s servant left.
Evan shook his head, touched Alanna’s face. She leaned into it like the touch of sunlight, a trembling breath leaving her. More tears. It was ridiculous, but she couldn’t stop them. She hoped she had better control of far more embarrassing bodily functions. His gray eyes softened on her, and his voice was thicker than usual. “For as docile as you appear, you’re as stubborn as he is.”
Her attention went to the Scot, who was gazing at her with such steady intensity. Her hand was still latched in his shirtfront. When he touched her head, she made another soft sound, following his touch with shaking fingers to her scalp.
“The treatment to sever your marks was a poison,” Evan explained. “When your hair became so thin it was obvious you were going to lose all of it, I had them shave it off, so it would grow back more evenly when the time came.”
If it had come. She was realizing how close a thing it had all been. “Stephen . . .”
“He’s dead. May the devil enjoy him.” Niall bent, brushed his lips over her skull. The nerve endings were so sensitive, she shivered, particularly when his fingers trailed down the back, over the occipital bone. “You’re free of him.”
“But not of . . . you two?” She tried for a smile, and God in heaven, even the strain of that caused tears. But this time, it wasn’t a separate, merely physical reaction. Two sets of arms closed around her, the men shifting onto the bed to hold her as she cried. Her head ended up on Niall’s shoulder, her hand clutching Evan’s thigh, both men soothing her. It was nerves, and so many other things. As they rocked her between them, she noticed Niall gripping Evan’s biceps where their arms overlapped on her back.
The Council was in charge of her fate. Though she hoped with all her heart and soul they would let her stay with Niall and Evan, she was too politically aware to think that it was likely. Unless no one more highly ranked than Evan wanted her.
No matter how wrong it was, she hoped the entire vampire world shunned her.
“Dawn’s coming,” Niall mentioned after a weighted moment. “You need to go to ground. Debra will help me get her bathed and ready.”
Evan nodded. When he rose, she realized she’d never seen a vampire look exhausted, depleted, but he did. Even paler than he should be. Glancing toward Niall, she saw the deep shadows beneath his eyes, the grooves alongside them. How much, or, rather, how little, had they slept? Fed properly?
“Niall, go with him,” she rasped. “Feed him and yourself. Take your rest.”
When Niall met Evan’s gaze, she saw a raw yearning in their gazes that stole her breath. They hadn’t . . . “Niall, who . . .” She coughed, and the pain of it pulled a tiny, screeching noise from her throat, drawing their attention instantly. Brian had quietly departed a few moments after Jacob, but Debra had remained. Now she came forward to hold Alanna’s shoulders as Niall put a large hand on her chest, giving her a needed pressure there as she strangled through the simple exercise of talking.
“Stop it, muirnín. Rest your voice for Council.”
But she knew what that look meant. At least she thought she did. She looked up at Debra, seeking help, and fortunately, Debra understood.
“Niall hasn’t been feeding Evan. They were switching shifts so that one of them was always here with you. Lady Lyssa ordered one of the new unassigned InhServs to give him blood.”
Niall shot her a quelling look, but Debra gave him an even stare right back. Her fingers flexed on Alanna’s shoulders as she bent to speak in her ear. “There was a concern that the stress of giving blood to his Master, and tending to you . . .”
That it would hasten the inevitable. If Evan had lost Niall during this . . .
“Lady Lyssa kens more than she lets on. That damn servant o’ hers is everywhere,” Niall grumbled.
Her gaze lifted back to her Master. She was sure he’d heard Debra, because his expression of reprobation was similar to Niall’s, but now she understood. Tending to her had worn them both down, but on top of that, Evan had known the high likelihood of Niall being overcome during this. She expected he’d tried to order Niall to step back from it, but they were too tightly intertwined now . . . all three of them. The worn edge of his comment about their stubbornness made even more sense. When he’d tried to order Niall away from this, the Scot had likely told him to go to hell, bugger off . . . whatever Scotsmen used for such an occasion.
She could talk if she whispered. “Feed him, Niall.”
If one of them had always been with her, it was likely no other needs had been met as well. She blocked the idea of what Evan might have done with the InhServ, because she had no right to want anything with respect to that, but Niall already anticipated her, catering to her petty foolishness.
“He only used her for blood, muirnín.”
She swallowed, trying not to shame herself by showing how much that meant to her, but Evan’s look of tender exasperation told her it hadn’t escaped his notice.
“Our possessive servant,” he observed. “No matter how docile she tries to appear.”
Our servant. How she wished that could be true, now and forever. “Debra is here. She will care for me. Please, Niall . . . care for him.” Care for yourself. Care for each other.
“I expect I have no vote in this,” Evan said lightly, but he seemed to understand how much effort she was expending toward this one thing, because he pressed her hand, nodded to Niall. “I understand your heart and can tend to myself. Be easy on that, man. Stay with her if you need that.”
Niall’s head lifted, and he met Alanna’s gaze. Since they weren’t in her mind—she felt that terrible pain again—she put all of it in her expression, everything she’d ever tried to communicate to him about why being a servant was a blood-deep commitment, beyond an oath of honor. It was a bond of unconditional love, a gritty, ugly, wondrous thing.
Debra had become her ally. “She won’t be left alone, Niall. I promise. She needs a bath, a full cleaning. She’d likely prefer that done by another woman. Tend to your Master.”
There were so many things in his eyes, torn between past and present, she couldn’t help but put her hand to his face, stroke there. I’m here. I love you.
The first time in her life she’d thought it, let alone said it. Her lips had formed the words, though no sound came out. His brown eyes closed, his head bowing. With the strength and aid of Debra’s hands, she put her forehead to his, then tilted to brush her lips to it.
“Go care for our Master. Care for the man you love,” she whispered.
He squeezed her hands, hard enough to be painful. Planting an abrupt kiss on her temple, he rose, turning toward the door, where Evan still waited for him.
When she saw their gazes meet, a painful peace spread through her chest, in all her vitals. She shouldn’t delay them, not for an instant, but wasn’t it Evan who taught her to accept her desires?
“Master?”
Whatever he saw in her face, she didn’t need to explain. Putting his hand on Niall’s chest, a brief caress, he strode back to her. She made a soft sound against his mouth when he put his lips over hers, a gentle but lingering kiss. He gripped her chin with firm fingers.
“You obey whatever Debra tells you. If you don’t, I’ll hear of it.”
“Yes, Master.” She brushed her cheek against his, her nose against his jaw, as much of him as she could touch in that brief moment.
Somehow, she would let them both go when the Council made their decision. But she would never let go of them in her heart. No one could make her do that. Even Stephen hadn’t managed it.
The bath knocked her back out for six hours. It filled her with despair that Niall might be right, that she wasn’t up for this, but she was determined. All she had to do was imagine the Council assembled around her bed, Lord Belizar staring down his hooked Russian nose at the small lumps of her feet under the covers, and the dreadfulness of the idea gave her strength.
So they did it in stages. Debra dressed her two hours before the dinner session. Once she was in underwear and a simple copper-colored dress that wouldn’t wrinkle while lying down, she was back out for another hour. When she surfaced, she asked about makeup, the possibility of putting a scarf over her bare head.
“It’s best not to do that,” Debra said.
“May I see a mirror? Please?”
Debra glanced toward the door. Alanna’s heart leaped, seeing Niall there, and not simply because of his reappearance. He was in a different version of what he’d worn for the wedding. White dress shirt with dark kilt and plaid, high white socks and ghillies laced over them. The gray rabbit fur sporran with its handsome silver ornamentation hung from his belt. With his dark brown hair loose on his shoulders, brushed to a silken sheen, she wasn’t surprised when the unflappable Debra blanked on Alanna’s question.
“You look . . . like you have . . . a date.” She tried to speak using her voice, a practice run for Council, but slipped back to a whisper when her vocal cords protested.
Sleep had done him a great deal of good, his face far less haggard. But he also looked . . . easier. She envied him, what that meant. Evan feeding from him for the first time in three weeks, his strong hands holding his servant possessively, plunging both fang and cock deep inside him, reasserting that claim. Niall would have gotten lost on that tide as well, likely turning once the feeding was done to clash with tongue and teeth, tasting his Master, kissing him, starting it all over again.
“I wish I could have been there,” she said.
“Ye’ll be there soon enough. And then you’ll really ken what exhaustion is.” His eyes smiled at her, but his mouth was firm, serious.
“I want to see a mirror,” she repeated. Debra stepped back, deferring to Niall on it. “I need to know what I look like, Niall. Please.”
“Ye look like a woman who’s been to hell and back,” he said shortly. “You’ve no meat on your bones, ye have no hair, and you’re as pale as . . .”
“A corpse? So putting makeup on me would make me look more like one?”
Her big Scot flinched. “Aye.”
“Well, I’ll eat,” she said resolutely. “And get back in the sun. My hair will grow.”
“I know, muirnín. But no mirror. Nae right now. See yourself as I see ye. Beautiful, alive, brave . . . everything a man could want.”
She did see that in his eyes, warming her inside and out. Unfortunately, female vanity wasn’t assuaged as easily. She looked to Debra. “Will anything help me look better?”
“The Council needs to see what your loyalty to them cost you,” Debra said. “Under the proper circumstances, they are not without compassion.”
Debra was usually as dutiful as an InhServ. Hearing her say anything that smacked of influencing the Council was unexpected. But Alanna recalled several slips in the reserved woman’s expression during her preparations that suggested her situation had affected Debra. She knew it had affected Niall. Despite her compliment, he still wasn’t 100 percent, so she decided to poke at that.
“Put makeup on him, then,” she whispered. “He looks pale.”
“’Tis your fault. These needy lasses can fair kill a lad.” His lips tugged up in a half smile. She wanted him to come closer, kiss her, but now she was thinking about how she looked. Besides holding no sexual appeal, a skeleton wasn’t capable of much in that department. It didn’t stop her heart from craving the intimacy of their bare bodies against hers, being taken by her Masters . . .
Niall was close now, his fingers on her chin. She resisted. “No. I look hideous. You just said so.”
“I said no such thing. I said you’re beautiful.” Since he merely caught her chin in a firmer grip, she was helpless when he put his lips on hers. At that first touch, her weak arms sought purchase on his shoulders. He pulled her up to her knees, letting her feel him flush against his body, which was far stronger than she’d teased him about.
“I can smell Evan on you,” she murmured, loving it. Loving them both.
“Aye. I didnae think the scrappy runt had that much strength left in him. We both fell asleep like drunkards afterward.”
She smiled against his mouth, then lost herself in that kiss, weakening in all the right ways, until he eased her back to the covers, touched her well-kissed lips with a thumb. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, now and forever. And ye best not take my earlier words as an empty threat. Get your strength back, muirnín. Because we intend to use ye hard for all you’ve put us through.”
Only time would tell if such desires would be fantasy or reality. He didn’t voice their obvious shared worry, that things might not go their way, but she hoped. For the first time in her life, she prayed for divine influence in her fate, humbly asking for the chance to serve the type of Master she’d always wanted.
Niall carried her to the Council, Evan leading the way. Brian’s wing was on the opposite end of the estate, but Niall had promised they’d let her down right before they reached Council’s chambers. She had to settle for the fact that she was clean and dressed; she’d figure out a way to stand on her own once she was there. During the trip in Niall’s arms, she enjoyed the way her Master looked as well. Evan wore a silver-gray suit that brought out his eyes. He’d chosen an open throat for the dress shirt instead of a tie, but it was a strategic move, giving him the look of a self-assured, confident member of the vampire world, not an overeager petitioner for the Council’s favor.
As always, the clever diplomat. Remembering Niall’s opinion on that, she clung to her hope.
When she’d come before Lady Lyssa last time, she’d been numb, beyond everything. Now she felt everything. The weakness of her body, anxiety, yearning, worry. A tearing love for the males who accompanied her. But she kept her breathing slow and steady, mindful of Debra’s parting warning.
You can’t get overly emotional. Don’t let your heart rate increase, or you will faint. You have zero strength.
Twenty paces before the door to Council chambers, Niall let her legs slide to the ground. As Evan disappeared within to announce their arrival, he kept his arm around her waist.
“I ken you’re very determined to walk these last few steps, but lean on me. Use my strength, lass.”
He shortened his strides, allowing her to proceed at her own pace, but it was quickly clear it was far too slow. After five steps the remaining distance stretched out like a distant lakeshore. Niall lifted her against his hip with a subtle hitch, her feet just barely brushing the floor. He covered all but the last two paces.
“If you have a pack mule, use him, muirnín.” He brushed his lips over her temple, not allowing her to despair. “You’re doin’ fine, lass. Remember, you’re not on trial. You’re the hero here.”
Then Evan opened the tall door from within, leaving no time for a response to the unexpected statement. A chair had been placed in the center of the room, just like for her initial audience with Lady Lyssa. Only now the whole Council was present. But so was Evan. She assumed he would take the chair, with her at his knee. Instead, Niall guided her to it. She pushed at his hands. “Evan . . .”
“Sit,” her Master said quietly, and she did, warring between taking the chair that should belong to a standing vampire, and not wanting to appear as if she were arguing with him before Council. Once she was seated, Niall took a stance on one side of the chair, Evan on the other.
Lady Lyssa studied her from behind the polished table that curved around half of the chamber. It was a lovely dark wood with griffin-style feet and decorative edging that had obviously been custom-made. Alanna liked it much better than the massive one in Berlin. However, when she lifted her gaze, however briefly, the pin of those intense jade eyes made everything else disappear. It was also capable of making Alanna’s heart rate increase, but she breathed through it, remembering Debra’s admonition.
“Our questions will be brief, Alanna. You need to recover your strength to serve a vampire Master again. That is the only priority you have. Do you understand?”
“Yes, my lady.” Alanna bowed her head.
“In deliberating your fate, I have a question I want you to answer honestly.”
“I would answer the Council no other way, my lady.”
Jacob was standing behind his lady’s chair, the only servant present other than her and Niall. When Alanna dared a quick glance upward, she noted his expression flicker in approval at her, bolstering her somewhat. She did her best to sit even straighter.
“You are a member of the InhServ corps, your destiny specifically sculpted to support the elite of our ranks. While you may think none of those are interested in you because of your situation, that is not the case.”
Weeks ago, such news would have been welcome. Now her heart plummeted. She gripped the chair arm, tried to stop her head from swimming off her shoulders. But did it matter now if she fainted? Evan’s request would be denied. Giving her to him in lieu of a higher-ranking vampire’s request would be an unforgivable insult.
“That aside, I want you to tell me who you desire to be your Master.”
The question startled her enough she met the queen’s eyes before jerking her head back down. “My apologies, my lady . . . I don’t understand. My preferences are irrelevant. I serve the Council’s desires.”
“That is correct.” The queen’s cool tone suggested she was confirming the obvious. Alanna suppressed the need to squirm. “Your training has been so thorough that, even if you had a preference, you would submit wordlessly to your fate and fully embrace the service of whomever we choose. Isn’t that correct?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Except her voice quavered shamefully. Perhaps she couldn’t quell her emotions the way she normally might because she was in such a weakened state. The idea of leaving Niall and Evan was going to tear her apart right before the Council.
“Look at me.”
Alanna lifted her head, surprised by the unexpected command. The tilted almond shape of the green eyes suggested Lyssa’s Asian blood, her skin as smooth as antique ivory silk. “You promised me honesty, did you not?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“So tell us your heart, child. You’re clutching that chair so hard you’re in danger of splinters.”
She immediately released the wood, mortified by the physical evidence of resistance, but she wasn’t sure how to proceed. She could speak her heart to Evan and Niall in the infirmary, but here, the weight of tradition and ritual, everything being an InhServ meant, was before her. She was lost. Struggling.
Lyssa leaned forward, perhaps no more than an inch, but the motion held Alanna’s attention as effectively as a graceful, deadly spider would hold a butterfly.
“Alanna, whatever decision the Council makes, I am telling you that you may speak your heart honestly here. It does not go against you, nor does it leave these chambers.”
Oh God. She understood then. Lady Lyssa was giving her the opportunity to express her true feelings toward Evan and Niall as a matter of record. Even though politics would require her to be assigned elsewhere, Alanna’s feelings toward them would be documented in perpetuity.
It was an unprecedented honor, one that overwhelmed her. It was a nod to Evan as well, for his service to the Council. But had Lyssa also realized it as a necessity, bringing closure so Alanna could go forward and perform as required? While it shamed her that the queen thought she required that to be an effective InhServ, she wouldn’t reject the gift. She had all she could to do to get past her amazement about the offer in enough time to accept it.
She was swamped with the significance of the next words she would speak. If she did nothing else in her life worth note, this was the task she wanted to look back upon and know she did it well. Straightening, she swept her gaze over all of them in a respectful, peripheral way, so they knew she intended to respond.
Ten vampires. Lady Carola and Lady Helga. Lords Belizar, Walton, Welles and Stewart. Lord Uthe, Evan’s sire, on Lyssa’s right. She’d always found him intimidating, but she was glad he’d saved Evan’s life and would forever have a high regard toward him because of it. Behind him, in the shadows, she saw the Fae liaison was here, Lord Keldwyn. She didn’t know him well, for he came and went like a ghost. Almost as elusive as Lord Daegan, his preferred spot in Council chambers was always in shadows, but usually somewhere between Lady Lyssa and Lord Uthe.
Lord Mason and Lady Daniela sat together at the end as the newest Council members. Though Lord Mason’s age made his stature worthy of a seat closer to the queen, he preferred the end. He stated it was for his long legs, since he was as big as Niall, but she’d seen how he watched the other Council members, particularly Belizar. He was in the best position to anticipate an attack against the queen and thwart it. Lady Daniela had come from Western Australia. Since her betrayal of Stephen, Alanna hadn’t attended Council meetings, but during her recuperation, before she left Berlin to join Evan and Niall, she’d run into Lady Danny’s servant, Devlin, a few times while out in the garden.
The bushman had a casual, easy way about him that she’d found complementary to his Mistress. Lady Daniela wasn’t a diplomat. She was straightforward and unflinching. Alanna suspected the two of them brought an unusual yet effective addition to the Council’s traditional formality. She’d also sensed some of the same type of bond between the two of them as she felt between Jacob and Lyssa. In fact, thinking about it now, Lord Mason, like Lady Lyssa, was quite open about his bond with his servant, Jessica. The queen had capably changed the Council dynamic, such that 30 percent of their number acknowledged their servants’ value in a historically unprecedented way.
Which was likely why she was sitting here now, being given this opportunity. She cleared her throat, refusing to whisper for this.
“When I informed the Council of Lord Stephen’s betrayal, it went against everything I was trained for, as well as everything I believed a servant should be.” Her voice cracked, running out of breath. She made herself slow down. “Submission is a beautiful thing in a servant, a desired thing. Surrender is a gift, a treasure, and the Master who has received that receives the highest level of service a servant can give, which was all I ever truly wanted to do when I became an InhServ.”
She met Jacob’s eyes. The truth of it flamed in his blue eyes. It gave her the courage to continue.
“I do not regret my actions.” There, she’d said it. “I deserve no credit for my betrayal of my former Master. I did not act as a servant, but as a sister, grieving the loss of her brother.”
Niall shifted. In her peripheral vision, she saw Evan press his lips together, a tacit rejection of that statement. “However, what I say now is a conscious, deliberate decision, an honor to my current Master that I hope will not be held against him. Evan took my training to a level the InhServ program, as exceptional as it is, couldn’t, because what I discovered in his service cannot be produced by training.”
Dizziness overcame her then, making her lock onto those chair arms again before she pitched herself to the floor. No. Hold on. Hold on. I’m not done. Panic that Lyssa might think she was through and end the audience made it worse. Niall’s hand was on her shoulder, his thumb stroking her collarbone. The queen spoke.
“Alanna, I am well aware you would never waste this Council’s time. We will not rush your answer, so don’t distress yourself on that matter. Take a breath or two. Jacob, bring her some water.”
The compassion in Lady Lyssa’s voice was shocking enough to send her into a full blackout, but Alanna recovered enough to accept the water Jacob brought to her. He gave it to Niall, who knelt at her side, keeping his hand over hers to steady her grip as she took a few sips. Of course it went down the wrong way, producing those tearing coughs that jerked her forward in the chair. Evan’s strong hands held her shoulders as Niall pressed his large hand to her chest again. When she saw blood fleck his shirt, his hand, he looked up at Evan.
No, I have to finish. I have to.
A muscle flexed in the Scot’s jaw. “Aye, we know lass. Just calm down.”
As she struggled to obey, she noticed the reaction of the Council. Vampires all had that impassive stillness that could turn them into furniture, but she detected an inexplicable tension as they watched her struggle. As Niall used Evan’s handkerchief to blot the blood from her lips, Lord Uthe and Lady Lyssa exchanged a glance. She wasn’t sure how to interpret the mood.
Keldwyn stepped away from the wall and put his hand on Uthe’s shoulder. When he bent between the queen and her right-hand man, it was obvious the three were conferring on something that the other vampires could hear. At the opposite end of the table, Lord Stewart lifted a brow, pursing his lips as if he found the subject intriguing, unexpected.
When the private conversation concluded, Keldwyn briefly met Uthe’s gaze. His fingers whispered off the vampire’s shoulder rather than lifting away. A Fae and a vampire? Perhaps the impossible was possible.
The distraction, Lady Lyssa’s firm assurance and Niall’s touch all helped calm her. Evan had not touched her, but she understood he wouldn’t, that showing any sentiment toward her right now would not be appropriate. However, when Niall glanced up at him, telling him without words she was ready, he was the one who spoke. “She is ready to continue, my lady.”
At Lyssa’s nod, Alanna swallowed. This time she kept her gaze fixed on Lyssa’s folded hands, though in reality she turned her focus inward, speaking to that soft gray wall, the anteroom after her trip to Hell, the place that did not judge or expect, simply allowing her to be whatever she was.
“I believe most vampires want to engage the emotions of their servant fully. They wish to be adored, desired, needed, in a singular way not possible among vampires themselves. To be served out of love, not politics, obligation or duty, though our responsibilities can certainly entail that. In fact, I think many vampires demand that level of devotion from their servants.”
She saw a tug on Jacob’s mouth, a wry acknowledgment. But now she would take her courage in both hands, prove she’d learned the lesson her Master had taught her. She’d voice her own desires.
“I want to serve my Masters. My Master, I mean.” She flushed, hoping the faux pas would be taken as a result of her physical state. “Evan.” And Niall.
The Council remained silent for some minutes, but she had done what she could. She put her attention on her hands, folded in her lap. Keeping her back straight was a monumental effort, but she told her pounding head, dry mouth and wasted lungs that they needed to hold on a little longer. Just a little longer . . .
“I think it would be useful to have Alanna meet with the InhServ trainers when she is well enough to do so. I expect her ideas might intrigue them. As well as result in more valuable service from their ranks.”
As Alanna blinked, unsure she’d heard Lord Uthe correctly, Lady Lyssa made a noise of agreement. “She’s the most exceptional student in the program’s history, which was why she was given to the made vampire believed most likely to be the first deserving appointment to the Council. His appointment to the Council was correctly predicted”—an unmistakable edge entered her tone—“even though his deserving it was not.”
Lord Uthe gave her an even look. “While our Lady Lyssa has taken a not-unjustified jab at our poor judgment prior to her assumption of leadership, the assignment of Alanna as his servant was not a poor decision. Without her, we might have lost our assassin and possibly our power base in Europe. It is an exceptional situation. Which suggests our decision on her fate might require a similar exception.”
Alanna’s fingers were knotted together, her gaze locked on her white knuckles. She couldn’t dare to hope. Couldn’t breathe at all.
“Evan, it’s obvious you are the Master she prefers to serve.” Lyssa was addressing her Master. “Do you have anything to add to the case to claim her?”
Evan stepped forward. As he did, he extended his arm, tapped a long finger on her clasped hands. A gentle reproof that made her spread her fingers on her lap. Niall was standing directly behind her now, such that she could feel his breath on her bare head.
“Alanna would be of great value to any vampire Master. There is no politic reason for you to assign her to me.” Evan swept them all in his glance. “My desire to have her as my servant has no political agenda to it, either. Yet she is a muse in human form, inspiring my work, for what value that may provide to you. She loves me, and she loves Niall. There are matters to discuss that bear weight on that.” He glanced at Niall, then back at the Council. “I can tell the Council this. If she is granted to me, I will care for her as the treasure she is.”
Lyssa nodded. “Thank you, Evan. Alanna may return to the infirmary, and your servant with her. Please remain, so we may discuss this further with you.”
Evan nodded to Niall, who put his hand under her arm to help her from the chair. Alanna shifted forward, but instead of rising, she began to sink to her knees. Her desperate pressure on Niall’s hand told him she intended it, and the Scot anticipated her enough to ease her down, rather than letting her drop like a bundle of sticks.
Once down on her knees she bent, ignoring the trembling weakness of her body, the pain rocketing through her head, but she couldn’t overcome the wheezing of her lungs. Though she wanted to make it to his feet, she had to settle for pressing her lips to Evan’s leg, just below his knee. The wool and silk of the slacks, his scent intertwined with it, was so overwhelming to her she had the resist the desire to rub against him like a cat.
“Whatever happens,” she whispered, “thank you for being my Master.”
I’ve always served vampires I called my lord or my lady. They were powerful, yes. But they . . . I am going to be inappropriate, Master, but please forgive me. They never taught me what love is. You and Niall did, both by your example and by your lessons. If I die tomorrow, these few days will be the ones I will cherish . . . and miss, the most. Thank you for showing me what being a servant really means.
She felt the scrutiny of the Council, but the only regard that meant anything to her now was Evan’s. As she managed to lift her head, she saw his jaw was tight, the gray eyes full of emotion he was struggling to push back. But it didn’t matter now, for either of them, did it?
Despite her noise of protest, he lifted her in his arms, putting her into Niall’s. For one blissful moment, perhaps the last, both men were holding her, the three of them linked. Evan brushed his lips across both of her cheeks, made sure Niall had her securely before he removed his grip.
“Take her back to her bed,” he said. “I’ll join you both directly.”
Evan paused in the doorway to the infirmary. Niall sat in a chair by the window. Alanna was curled in his lap, looking out at the white moonflowers cultivated in the gardens. With a painful tightness in his chest that had become a constant companion, he saw Niall had dozed off, his head resting against the back of the chair, temple pressed inside one of the wings. Alanna slid her fingers along his chest, idle patterns as she stared out into the night, her thoughts entirely her own for the first time in over a decade.
He’d been simply overcome by her in Council chambers. She might be humbled to know that, but what would stun her was that she’d wrested a similar reaction from the Council.
Brilliant girl that she was, she’d honored her training and taken it to a new level, marrying desire to service. Weak as a baby, showing just how close to the Grim Reaper’s blade she stood, she’d conducted herself with calm dignity and an unconditional sincerity that proved why she should be servant of the highest and most deserving of the vampire ranks. Lord Belizar himself had said those words. Evan was fiercely proud of her.
Then, when she went to her knees, he wanted to tell the Council they could go straight to hell. He and Niall were keeping her. But of course the world didn’t work that way.
For this moment, though, the world could be what he wanted it to be. He savored the sight of the two of them together. He expected she was the one who’d talked Niall into taking off the shirt and plaid, so he wore just the kilt, letting her lean against his bare chest, trace his dragon and the third mark beneath. Niall could wear a suit handsomely, but Evan had always preferred him in the kilt. Niall eschewed a tartan, preferring the solid black or gray. Given that he’d been one of the broken men who lived on clan land, but was not of that clan’s blood, and the fact that his landlord and clan chief had sacrificed him on a battlefield, Evan understood it. Yet he wore Evan’s dragon tattoos . . . and Evan’s mark.
Even after all these centuries, Evan carried a great deal of his father’s religious practicality. Judaism was a thinking man’s religion, all said and done, and the idea of a vampire and servant being bound in the afterlife had seemed illogical to him. For the first time he understood, whether it was truth or not, that notion had probably been born from fervent wishful thinking, by vampires who felt for their servants as he did.
Straightening from the door, he went to them. Alanna’s gaze immediately turned from the window. She didn’t move, however. She wouldn’t disturb Niall’s rest, but more than that, she was braced for the news, her pale face and sad, shorn head making his heart tighten. She’d known they wouldn’t choose him, that there was no possible way in the hierarchical world of the vampires that would be acceptable. But he hated that she’d hoped enough to look so crushed now by the inevitable news.
When he squatted to his heels so they were eye to eye, she swallowed. Firmed her chin and lifted it. “I love you, Master,” she said quietly.
Reaching out, he traced her thin, ravaged face. Once fed and healthy, her hair grown out, she would be beautiful again, in the way that all men appreciated, but he agreed with Niall. Her bravery, resolve and sheer character would never make her anything less than mesmerizing to him.
“That’s good. Because you’re going to be with me a very, very long time.”
Her gasped cry woke Niall, such that he almost toppled her, coming out of it ready to fight. Evan caught hold of him and Alanna to steady them both, but as he held them there in the chair, he was gripped by a sheer ebullience that was entirely unvampirelike. Fortunately, Alanna saved him from acting upon it, because she flung her arms around him. Her joyous embrace told Niall what had happened, and now the Scot’s grin brought warmth and light to every corner of the room. He gripped Evan’s shoulder, but Evan saw a different knowledge in the man’s eyes. A tightness rose into Evan’s throat as he heard Niall’s private thought to himself.
He won’t be alone. He’ll have her.
When Alanna pulled back, Niall tugged her hair, teasing her, even as the three of them kept that connection, arms tangled, hips touching. Evan had dropped to one knee to keep Niall settled and to prevent Alanna from being dumped on the floor, so his braced foot was between Niall’s splayed ones.
“So,” the Scot observed. “I have a lot to do. I have tae teach ye to be more insolent, so Evan will not get spoiled by your excessive subservience. And then I’ll have to teach him how to give ye a proper strapping, because he’s far too soft-handed about it.”
She had a response for that, one that made Niall laugh, but Evan didn’t hear it. He was poised on a precipice, one where his pleasure in their reaction could easily be turned to a cold weight, given the other news he had, but he wasn’t of a mind to wait on the blow, if it was going to come.
“Actually, you might be around to do those beatings yourself for a while, if you’re up for it.”
Alanna stopped in midsentence, her attention snapping to Evan. Niall seemed unperturbed, but lifted a brow. “What, Brian’s cooked up a way to keep me around longer? Some foul potion where I have to endure ye another decade or two?”
“Worse. I requested the right to turn you, Niall. And Council agreed.”