3
ALANNA wasn’t sure what to feel. She’d never experienced a servant like Niall, or the type of Master that Evan seemed to be to him. Something about their interactions, experienced through the one-sided communication of Niall, reminded her of the way Adam had related to his friends, before he’d departed with her for the InhServ program. Another difference between her and her brother; he’d had friends, had maintained those connections as long as he possibly could, while her focus had always been on her future.
Though she’d been oblivious to their attentions, his friends had been intrigued by her looks, much as Niall was. Adam had been protective of her, and not only because he was her brother. A female or male Inherited Servant came to the in-house training program an untouched virgin, never even romantically kissed. She expected that had presented more difficulties for Adam than it had for her, but he’d never complained about it.
Once the private plane landed at the airport in Asheville, North Carolina, Niall guided her to a battered Range Rover and took the wheel. As they drove through town, a postcard blue-green mountain range as its backdrop, she saw it was not a large city at all, not compared to Berlin. In short order, they were off the main highway and winding up smaller roads, headed deeper into the mountains. Despite the fall season, the sun was warm, so he kept the windows down. She wrapped her hair into a twist on the back of her head to keep it out of her eyes, and inhaled the scent of trees, water, mountains and sunshine. The rolling landscape and increasing solitude were a very different experience from the past few weeks, one she didn’t mind at all.
He’d said little after the kiss incident. She didn’t sense he was closed to conversation, just waiting for her to initiate it if she desired. Her main question, how best to serve his Master, had received such a hard-to-interpret reply, she wasn’t sure where to go from there. She’d have to figure it out as she went, which might not be a bad thing, having her mind occupied by that instead of when the life would be choked from her, her heart seizing in her chest because Stephen’s had been staked.
She tried not to dwell on such a thing, because of the fear it could incite. Not of death, but of that afterlife reunion with Stephen. Her temples pounded, a warning of the headache that could come if she thought of him too much, even with the blocker. Lord Brian had explained Stephen’s invasion into her mind had caused such trauma to her body that it would protect her if she turned her thoughts toward him. She was glad to have a sanctioned excuse not to think of her Master.
“Do you like music?”
She turned her head, holding back the few shorter wisps of hair that had escaped the bun and were dancing in the breeze. “If you’d like to play some, I don’t object.”
“Not what I asked, muirnín.” His direct look reminded her of what he’d said in her room. How he’d said it. You’ll want to answer me. Before she could stop herself, she’d shifted her gaze downward, as she might when a vampire addressed her.
“I . . . I haven’t thought about it.”
A slight tap of the chin, a reminder, and she lifted her attention to him. “Better.” He smiled, but that intent look kept her attention. “You mean you don’t listen to music for your own enjoyment?”
“I listen to whatever my Master wishes to play. I’m trained to dance in a variety of styles for his pleasure. I can also sing.”
“Okay.” He pushed the player between them. “Scroll through and find something that strikes your fancy. One song.”
She picked up the device, studied the list of songs. “Are these your favorites?”
“Playlists I’ve put together, aye.”
“All right, then.” She chose the shuffle option and hit play, so that the player chose the first song. He gave her a look, but he didn’t say anything further. The song was country bluegrass, a male band that filled the vehicle with music that fit their surroundings well. With the windows down, she adjusted the volume upward. When she did that, she won a grin. It made her feel a little better, though she couldn’t explain why. Reaching across the seat, he squeezed her hand briefly, then returned to driving, humming the song while she gazed at him, mystified both by the touch and the situation.
Each road they turned up became rougher, steeper, until they were bumping along on what seemed little more than a deer path. The trees closed in on either side, such that Niall raised her window, the leafy branches passing along the glass rather than slapping her during their passage. Just when she was certain he was going to have to produce an axe to get them any farther, they emerged into a small clearing. To one side was a log cabin built into the side of the hill, a necessary anchor given that the front yard had only enough level ground for a grouping of Adirondack chairs and a picnic table before it began to slope down dramatically, drawing the gaze in that direction.
Niall backed the vehicle into a spot obviously carved out for it next to the cabin, which gave Alanna the opportunity to stare at that overwhelming view. The slope was dotted with yellow wildflowers with black centers that danced at the touch of the wind. The hill disappeared into a forested gorge, enough daylight left that the sunlight gleamed on the golds, yellows, rust reds and countless greens, an artist’s mixed palette, forming the foreground for the mountain range behind, dark green hills giving way to blue-green ones. Beyond that, layers of hazy blue rocky formations rose into the sky, wisps of white clouds draped over them like silken spider webs. It was a view that kept the mind engaged and the tongue silent.
When she realized Niall had cut the engine, she looked toward him.
“Evan calls this the Atheist Test. Says if you look at the view and don’t believe in a higher power, no other miracle will change your mind.”
Not knowing what to say to that, she simply nodded and then forced herself to evaluate her surroundings more practically. Another vehicle, a sturdy SUV that looked like it had been decommissioned from the military, was parked on the other side of the cabin. There was a well, but now that Niall had opened his door, holding it there with a braced foot, she could also hear the rush of water, possibly a stream beyond the cusp of the hill on the west side of the property. Lifting her gaze to the steep grade above the cabin, she saw several cameras on tripods. They were loosely protected by a plastic tent, the flap tied back from the picture-taking end. Niall scowled.
“Idiot,” he muttered. He exited the vehicle, his size making it rock. Before she realized his intent, he was at her door, opening it for her. She wasn’t used to that, nor how he offered a hand so she could more easily step down from the Range Rover’s greater height.
“You’re lucky it didn’t rain today,” he muttered. “That plastic wouldn’t have held against a stiff breeze. You’d have fried your arse, getting out here to rescue the equipment.”
Because she’d spent most of her life around servants, she knew when one was speaking to his Master internally, though it was the first time she’d heard one be that rude. She waited, hand still clasped in his because he’d not yet let go. She didn’t take it as an impropriety, given that his mind was obviously engaged, so she had the opportunity to observe his fingers were strong and warm, his palm rough. She wanted to run her touch over it, feel the grooved lines. She quelled the inappropriate response.
“He said it didnae smell like rain today.” Niall snorted, giving Alanna an eye roll. “Aye, ye remember Seattle?” Dropping her hand, he circled around back, retrieving her suitcase. “Come on, he’s inside.”
She eyed the size of the cabin. “Where does he protect himself from the sun?”
“The back bedroom is inside the hill itself, but during daylight, that’s only adequate for early morning or just after sunset. The root cellar is below the house and accessible through the kitchen. It’s been modernized enough that there’s indoor plumbing, and electricity comes from a generator, but for the most part it’s a pioneer experience. The place is a couple hundred years old.”
“This is your . . . home?”
“A step down for you, princess?”
His narrowed look flustered her. “No. I didn’t mean it like that at all. I apologize. I’m accustomed to vampires who require more of their accommodations.”
“Aye, he’s not one of those. That’s all he requires.” Niall nodded toward the view. “As long as he can see the next great wonder, he could sleep in a hole in the ground. As for me, I just need a guid meal, so he keeps me fed. We all have our priorities.”
She followed him to the door, her cheeks pink at the idea he’d thought she was complaining. She didn’t know how to rectify such an unprecedented assumption.
“We’ve been here a couple o’ weeks,” he continued. “No telling when Evan’ll move on, but that should make it bloody hard for Stephen to sneak up on us. If he resorts to spy work, he won’t get very far. Evan willnae use cell phones, and these auld trucks don’t have GPS chips.”
“But I thought they want . . . him to find me.” She stumbled over the pronoun. After referring to him as “my lord” for so long, she had trouble calling him merely Stephen. She also couldn’t call him Master. Though technically he still was, she couldn’t make herself do it, no matter how much it underscored her failure as a servant. “My purpose is to be bait.”
Niall stopped, such that she almost bumped into him. When he turned, that stern set of his lips was back, giving her the impression she’d offended him somehow.
“I’m sorry,” she said, though she questioned why she was apologizing to a servant.
“So you should be, muirnín. Ye have value beyond bait, and you should remember that. Making it more difficult for Stephen to find you provides more opportunities to flush him out. A man on a long treasure hunt makes more mistakes than one on a short one.”
The logic was sound, but the first part had her confused. What value?
After feeling nothing for so long, it was odd to feel unsettled, uncertain. Serving a vampire who lived inside a mountain with a big Scot who was entirely unpredictable in his behavior was like finding herself on Mars. That quick hand squeeze in the Rover came back to her, and she had an unprecedented urge to take his hand again, as she had taken Adam’s when they first came to the InhServ program together. She’d been the one to drive them toward the goal, but at that momentous transition, Adam had made her feel protected, his hand sure and strong on hers.
When Niall gestured her forward, she squashed the moment of weakness, squaring her shoulders. She was taught to be prepared for anything. She was about to meet her new Master, and no matter how temporary that was, she would serve him as if she would do so for the rest of her life. Which, in this case, was likely true.
Evan was supposed to give her two marks. Would he do it tonight or wait?
It was not her place to wonder such things. As she stepped into the cabin, she found that it wasn’t dark and gloomy as she expected. Things were clean and smelled like the mountains and forest. Though it was small, there appeared to be several rooms. A main sitting area with a kitchen. A bedroom was visible through an open door. Stepping into the hallway, she saw the open door to the back bedroom, a bathroom dividing it from the other bedroom. The beds had handmade quilts in fall colors and pillows with earth-tone cases. Dried wildflowers and a few mountain prints provided comforting touches to the décor. As she turned back toward the main room, she saw the knotty pine log walls were a pale golden color that added light to what was coming in through the windows. A bookcase had a mountain scene carved in the molding piece overlapping the top shelf. A wooden black bear stood next to the shelf, black eyes steady upon her.
“Stay still a moment, lass.” Closing the door, Niall moved to do the same to the windows. In addition to curtains, they had interior shutters. Once he closed both, it put the cabin in darkness, shutting out the midday sun. As a third mark, she could see in the dark, but with the blocker she was blinded, explaining Niall’s order. A match was struck, the sulfur hitting her nostrils before he lit a lantern on the kitchen table, filling the room with shadows. “He does a lot o’ black-and-white photography, prefers to develop it rather than relying on digital media. That’s what he’s doing now, so we cannae let any light down. It’s better for him as well.”
Moving the oval braided rug on the kitchen floor, Niall revealed the door to the cellar. When he lifted it, his forearm was bathed in a reddish light coming up from the room below. She also sensed the presence of her new Master. At least that was one thing the blocker had not taken away from her—a servant’s ability to detect a vampire nearby.
Setting the injection case on the table, she followed Niall’s direction to go down the ladder ahead of him. She couldn’t see much more than red light and shadows, but as she started to descend, a pair of hands touched her legs. A shiver ran from that contact point up her thighs. She remembered those long, strong fingers far better than she’d expected. Though Debra had confirmed the two males had been there, that they weren’t a dream, she didn’t know if the painting, the way those hands had made her feel, had been true, or something she’d enhanced, an oasis constructed by her mind to survive Stephen’s punishing invasion. She had that answer now.
Those hands slid from her calves to her thighs with easy intimacy, because of course she was his to touch, right? His hands had a different strength than Niall’s, but were no less reassuring as they brushed over her hips, closed on her waist, ensuring she made it safely to the floor. Understanding the peculiarities of Randoms, she’d managed their kindnesses accordingly. But she had no clue how to take such a gesture from a vampire. It seemed very . . . human. Evan was a made vampire, but then so was Stephen, and many of his acquaintances. None of them would have assisted a servant in such a way.
Turning away from the ladder, she faced her new Master. She was five four, so she estimated his height at six feet when she did a quick glance upward. Evan didn’t have Niall’s height or breadth—she didn’t imagine many men did—but his shoulders were broad, despite a rangy body type, lean and knotted. He had the decided features of a handsome Jewish man—straight slash cheekbones, his mouth a firm, thin line, his straight nose the dividing marker for wide-spaced eyes that were gray and deep-set, with dark fine brows to complement the straight fall of hair over them. She suspected the charisma he emanated had been there before he was turned, but the vampire blood only enhanced it.
She was wrong. She had seen his face at some point, because she remembered his eyes. How long had they stayed at her bedside? The painting, the touch of Niall’s hands on her face . . . it had seemed to go on a long time. Hell’s minions had been howling at the door, but they’d been unable to get through while Evan and Niall were there.
“Just as impossibly beautiful as I expected,” Evan murmured. Without permission, her body swayed toward his, recalling that voice. He put a hand on her shoulder. “Though a little dizzy. Niall didn’t feed you.”
“No, he did, Master. My apologies. I . . .” It wasn’t dizziness, not that kind. They’d been real. It made the memory something far more significant to her, and she wasn’t sure how to process that. She was so outside her normal milieu, it made their reality almost more fantastic than when she thought them a hallucination.
He touched a loose lock of her hair. The dark red color, with shimmers of gold throughout, had always drawn attention. She had to fight the urge to turn into that touch. InhServs could show pleasure when the time was appropriate, but this didn’t feel like that time. He’d think her a fool. “Was your trip a pleasant experience?” he asked. “I expect the opportunity to put Niall back on his heels was the best part.”
She blinked. “Yes . . . I mean, the trip was fine, Master.”
Evan chuckled. Brushing her cheek with his fingertips, he kept his other hand on her waist, but it didn’t feel like a casual touch. He was learning her, and she was vibrating beneath the attention. The flicker in those heavy-lidded eyes showed his awareness of it, but she kept her gaze on his throat. A servant didn’t meet a vampire’s gaze unless she had permission. Even if the vampire had gray eyes that reminded her of that still, floating place after the nightmares had receded.
His regard was different from that of other vampires, however. It was a full exploration, as if he was trying to see below the skin and muscle, the architecture of bone, to determine what emotions and experiences radiating from her soul made her face look like it did. It was disconcerting, but she stayed still.
Glimpsing him through her lashes, she realized he’d been turned young, perhaps when he was no more than twenty-one or twenty-two. But four hundred years of life and that innate charisma tempered his youthful appearance, even as the combination made him look even more preternatural. He wouldn’t ever blend in among humans easily.
“Evan Samuel Miller is my full name. When I was born, it was Eitan ben Samuel, so you might see some correspondence from older friends—much older friends—with that name on the address. I Anglicized it after my father’s death. Bad luck while he’s living. Old superstition, but then, I am old.” Evan flashed teeth at her, a bare hint of fang, and his hand on her waist tightened. “Four hundred and something . . . Since I turned two hundred, I only track the numbers that end with two zeros.”
She blinked, nodded, because that seemed the appropriate response.
“I spend a great deal of time around humans, compared to other vampires, so you’ll call me Evan,” he added. Then he tipped up her chin, capturing her in that gaze. “When it’s time to call me Master, you’ll know it.”
“Yes, Mas— Evan.”
“Good.” Releasing her, he turned back to his task, but she noticed he took his support away gradually, making sure she was firm on her feet. She wasn’t, but she managed to stand upright regardless, shifting away from the ladder so Niall could join them when he desired to do so. The scent of the chemical bath was distinct but not unpleasant. The dim light glimmered across the series of trays in which photo paper floated, shapes slowly coming into focus. Stepping forward to study one, Evan reached for a pair of tongs, using them to transfer the picture into a different tray. “Has Niall given you the information you need?”
Panic tripped through her chest. Had she missed a step? “Sir?”
Evan glanced toward the ladder. Niall was now leaning against it, the trapdoor closed above him. She hadn’t even heard him come down. He moved like a scout for an invading army, even more silently than she was used to third marks moving. His eyes were darker in the dim light, the broad planes of his face even more rugged. “She didn’t have any questions, except how best to serve you.”
“I’m sure Niall told you he was not the best source for that.” Evan studied the contents of another tray, checked his watch. “Another minute or two,” he mused. Then he looked toward her again. “He didn’t tell you what he said, did he? The first time I called our view the Atheist Test?”
She looked at Niall, then back at Evan. “No, sir.”
“All it proves is God likes to pick up a paintbrush,” Niall said. “Just like Evan, He may not be guid for much else than pretty pictures.”
Though she was astounded by the disrespect, Evan bared his fangs at his servant, a feral smile. “But you didn’t refute the theory. Whether you think He’s an inept deity or not, you don’t deny His presence in your life.”
“No more than I deny when there’s a thorn stuck in my arse,” Niall said mildly.
Evan lifted a brow, but shifted his attention back to Alanna. “You are an exceptionally intelligent woman, Alanna. A very accomplished one. I’m certain you realize we are a far cry from what you’ve known. Much of your training may not apply here. Plus the circumstances are somewhat different.”
The tray at the far end of the table had caught his attention. As he shifted to stand before it, he fell silent, studying what was coming into form there. He braced his knuckles on the table and picked up another set of tongs, swishing the paper in the bath. When Alanna looked toward Niall, hoping for some cue, Niall put a finger to his lips, indicating she should wait. She could do that. She was exceptionally good at waiting.
“I’m charged to keep you on the outer fringes of Stephen’s radar, while the Council hunts that benzona.” Evan at last spoke, setting aside the tongs, though he kept his gaze on the picture. “While you are to behave as my servant, it’s a temporary situation. The place for your beauty and talents is not among the peasantry, but available to vampires far more ambitious than I. My job is to keep you safe until that happens.”
She was caught up in determining what a benzona was—from the slight edge in his voice, something not complimentary—and the flow of his voice. It reminded her of a classical guitar piece, the melody interspersed with deeper bass tones. However, his last sentence broke her out of the dangerous reverie. Surely he realized once Stephen was caught, he would be executed, and she would die with him? Lord Brian’s blocker didn’t change that. However, since her personal fate did not require mention, she remained silent.
“So here it is. I don’t require much. Help Niall with the tasks he performs for me, and let us know if you notice anything that indicates Stephen’s presence.” Evan turned, his piercing eyes suddenly upon her. “I do understand certain things about Inherited Servants, Alanna. As you regain your strength, your need to be of ultimate service will grow. Even if you think it will hasten Stephen’s capture to forgo it, you will take the blocking serum Lord Brian gave you. If you put yourself at that kind of risk, you are disobeying me, and I will not be pleasant about it.”
She nodded. “Yes, Mas— sir. Evan.” Damn it. A simple thing like a name shouldn’t be giving her this much trouble.
“If you have any questions, you can ask Niall or me, if I’m available to answer,” he continued. “They told you that I’ll be giving you the first and second marks?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Brian was certain they wouldn’t cause you ill effects, but we’ll do the first mark now, and the second one later tonight. I want some spacing to be sure it doesn’t upset your system.”
“I’m sure I can handle them both right now, sir, if it’s more convenient for you. I am quite recovered.”
“Well, just to be sure, we’re doing it my way.” Picking up a cloth, he wiped his hands on it, took a sniff at the results. “Oh, that’s terrible. Hold on.” Going to the sink, he washed them more thoroughly, using the soap there. Noticing the paper towels were at the end of the counter, she picked them up, brought them to Evan such that they were handy when he finished washing his hands. The soap had a fragrant citrus scent.
The vampire gave her a sweeping glance that held her in place and spread warmth over her skin. As he bent his head to pull a few towels off the roll, the straight strands of hair over his forehead caught her attention, the way the ends teased his slim black brows. “Thank you.”
A thank-you from a vampire? No vampire thanked a human. It didn’t matter what rank they possessed. Then she realized she’d committed a grave faux pas herself. She’d done something for Evan before looking for verbal cues from Niall, his fully marked servant.
Glancing quickly toward him, she was relieved to find the Scot unperturbed. However, there was a different quality to his regard. On the plane he’d been genial, attentive, but now she was aware of how alone she was with the two males.
It was a ridiculous thought, given that a vampire could do anything he wished to her, whether in the presence of his servant or the entire vampire populace. Her nervousness wasn’t fear, not exactly. She didn’t know how to classify the unfamiliar emotions coursing through her as Evan took the towel roll from her hands. The cellar seemed smaller, a dark, intimate den within the earth, far away from anything else.
The vampire surprised her by bending and sliding one arm behind her legs, the other around her back to lift her in his arms. Her arm landed on his neck, her hand on his shoulder. Though all vampires were stronger than humans, something about the angularity of his frame made the ease with which he lifted her unexpected.
It was barely a step to Niall. Her quick look at him through lowered lashes must have conveyed her curiosity, because Evan looked quietly amused. “I wanted to see what kind of armful you are. As you can guess, I have little occasion or desire to scoop Niall up in my arms.”
When he put her down, she was so close to Niall she was leaning against him. The servant put an arm around her waist. With his hips propped on the ladder step, his legs stretched out on either side of her, she found his thigh the best resting place for her hand. Beneath the utilitarian cargo pants, he was hard muscle. On the plane, when he’d retaliated against her strike, he’d controlled her easily with that power, holding her like an egg inside a grip she couldn’t break.
Evan lifted her other hand, his thumb sweeping over her pulse, registering the increase in the beat. She was trained to respond sexually to a vampire’s touch, as long as it was her Master’s will. Yet it had been months since she’d been required to respond. Even after the blocker started working, she was in the monastic solitude of her room, or the central garden, the only place at the Berlin castle that received much sun.
Arousal was more than training, however. It was also an instinct, when the stimulus was right. She wasn’t afraid of her ability to respond; she was worried about her ability to channel it properly. Her pulse was definitely tripping as Evan kept his thumb gliding over it, his eyes tracking her expression, her elevated breathing. When Niall slid her hair over her left shoulder, freeing the strands from their wide silver clip, the vampire watched the red curls tumble down over her breast. Now Niall’s breath was on the right side of her neck. As his lips settled there, gooseflesh spread out from the point of contact. She hadn’t been touched in months. Months.
The body was anatomically designed to experience pleasure. It was never to be resisted in a vampire’s presence, unless they ordered that as a form of torment, because vampires relished seeing their servants surrender sexual control at their command.
But Evan’s simple touch roused something different than that. In Stephen’s service, she had no trouble channeling her responses to his requirements. Yet she’d noticed servants outside his household who experienced orgasms with tears, looks of clinging adoration toward their Master or Mistress, impulsive acts of devotion in the aftermath.
InhServs were taught that “natural” servants were much less disciplined, so such emotional reactions were to be expected from them. It was not a failing, but a sign of why an Inherited Servant was a cut above. No InhServ would say that outright, because it suggested ego, but it was generally understood. Then she’d seen Adam with his Mistress. He’d pressed a fervent kiss to her foot, rubbed his cheek there as she touched his hair . . .
Why was she thinking about something like that now? What was Evan expecting, looking at her the way he was? Was she supposed to be doing something she wasn’t? The best InhServ anticipated her vampire’s need before he had to tell her. She’d been one of the best, but now she had no frame of reference.
Niall’s mouth opened, a heated moistness on her throat that tightened her nipples, drew in her breath. An electrical current ran between that contact and Evan’s thumb stroking her pulse, a current branching out, building a response in her lower belly, her thighs. She was dampening because she was supposed to respond that way, because he would require her to be wet if he wished to take her or have Niall take her, but it felt . . . She was afraid.
No. She was never afraid, not of this. But they were making her feel something different from what she was used to feeling.
“Shhh . . . you’re tensing, muirnín.” When Niall ran his hand down the arm she had propped on his thigh, she realized she was gripping him with tense fingers. It horrified her. He covered them, interlaced them with his own. “Let’s change this up a bit, aye? He’s a voyeur, and ye need to get lost in your heid.”
Sliding down the side zipper of her skirt, he moved their linked hands under the waistband. Touching the lace band of her panties, he traced the soft skin, then pushed farther beneath the silky fabric, guiding her fingers over her smooth mound, the tender petals beneath. She swallowed as he tapped her *, then slid his middle finger below it, teasing wetness. “There ye go. Lie your head on my shoulder, close your eyes. Pleasure yourself, lass.”
She flicked her glance up to Evan, saw his slight nod, the intentness of his face, the firm set of his mouth. He brought her hand up to it, teased the palm with his lips, tasting her.
His fingers were truly extraordinary. Elegant but capable, like the hands of a master artisan, or a tree spirit. She remembered a card Adam had sent her, showing a male dryad coming to life, the branches of his tree becoming arms, wrapping around the body of a human woman. She was kissing his face, evolving through the bark, a powerful, graceful spirit that shared life with the tree. Evan’s hands reminded her of that. He also smelled like the forest.
The hard enamel of his fang slid over the pad of her index finger, a reminder that she’d been told to do something for them. Stephen had rarely commanded her to masturbate before him, but Niall’s hand was sliding between her fingers. The roughness of his skin was a friction that created another indrawn breath, a shuddering lift of her bosom under his appreciative gaze, if the near growl he made was any indication. She began to massage her *, a tiny noise catching in her throat.
“Head on my shoulder.”
She obeyed, closing her eyes. The darkness intensified the aroma of developer chemicals, mixing with the earthy underground. Niall and Evan bore the scent of the earth as well, the mountains, the trees. It was new to her, people who didn’t smell of the civilized world. Houses, cleansers, paint, furniture upholstery, shower products from fancy salons.
His thighs steadying her with their bracket around her hips, Niall cupped her breast through the stretched fabric of the yellow sweater. As he explored the curve, stroking with his knuckles, the nipple stiffened, begged for touch through the thin stuff of her bra.
“Keep stroking yourself, lass.”
She’d almost forgotten, a little lost under their caresses. Teasing her *, she dipped her fingers into herself and rubbed the moisture on the outside, giving herself lubrication. Her hips lifted at the stimulation, and her other hand curled in Evan’s grip, a reaction of pleasure. It made her fingers brush that sharp slash of cheekbone.
He’d moved his mouth from her fingers down to her palm, and the hair that had caught her attention earlier now feathered over her knuckles, a pleasant sensation. Her fingertips brushed his eyebrow.
His fangs teased her pulse, once, twice, and then he punctured flesh, the pain drawing her up in an arch toward him, a shudder passing through her as his tongue swirled over the area, his lips sealing down as he began to taste her. She stiffened as a burning sensation rippled up her arm, the geographical locator, the first mark. It hurt more than expected, as if her body was fighting any mark other than her original Master’s.
“All right, then?” Niall had registered it. Evan stilled. His mouth remained on her, but his gaze flickered up to her face, seeing everything. She gave a quick nod, breathed through it, realizing with each deep inhalation her body was sinking deeper into the hollows and planes of Niall’s. Evan’s gaze met his servant’s, some unspoken communication. As his attention returned to her arm, Niall’s fingers slid between hers on her *, helping with the slow massage as she managed that pain. His skilled touch helped lessen it. In fact, a slow detonation of sensation started through her p-ssy and lower belly.
“She’s fair wet.” Niall’s voice was a rumble through his chest, vibrating against her shoulder blades. Would Evan take her now, since her body was ready for him? Niall’s body was ready as well, his hard organ pushing against her buttocks through the restriction of the cargo pants. Perhaps her new Master would want her on her knees, servicing him. Some vampires liked drawing it out that way, keeping their servants wanting, the power and anticipation even more arousing to them than the sex itself.
An icy cold blade sliced through the heated pain in her arm, and she twitched, a hard spasm. In that one instant, she understood how hot glass could crack if immersed in cold water too suddenly. Both men stopped, Evan withdrawing now that the mark was done, holding pressure on the dual puncture with his thumb. “Alanna? Talk to us. What’s happening?”
“I’m . . . fine. It just hurts for a while . . . but it will pass. I can take care of your needs, Master. Lord Evan. I mean Evan.”
Everything seemed to be reminding her how far she’d slipped in her discipline, her focus. Causing Evan to stop twice to check on her was the equivalent of two reprimands. But she’d improve.
When he released her arm, she brought it in to her body, pressing it against her to help relieve the throbbing. She could sense Evan watching her, far too closely. Please don’t say anything. Don’t make me more ashamed than I already am.
“Right now I need to focus on the rest of these pictures,” he said at length. “The timing of the development is critical. Niall will take you upstairs and put you to bed to rest after your trip.”
Her well-being shouldn’t be his concern, but before she could manage a courteously worded demur, he tapped her cheek firmly, bringing her attention back to him. “Trust me, you’ll need the rest. We have a hike planned for tonight. Do you have hiking shoes?”
“No, sir.” She wasn’t sure how she could have anticipated needing any, but at the moment every question was revealing her shortcomings.
“Bugger, I forgot about that,” Niall grumbled. “I’ll get some from the general supply store while she’s sleeping.”
Evan nodded, gave her a half smile. “He told you he knew nothing about being a proper servant. You may have to teach him a thing or two, Alanna.”
“Aye, and then I’ll have to find a proper nancy vampire to do all that crap for. Ye should be in bed yourself. Way past your bedtime.”
“I can stay up quite a bit later here. The age of the mountain helps.”
Niall shifted behind her. Realizing she was still leaning against him, she straightened, stood on her own two feet. When he did the same, taking his hips off the ladder, he was still pressed close behind her, Evan right in front. While her arm was throbbing, other parts of her were as well, used to being offered to a vampire whenever he desired her, fed from her.
Because of her mixed response, the men were reining themselves back. She wanted to scream, but throwing a tantrum wasn’t in the repertoire of proper InhServ responses, was it?
Touching Alanna’s cheek with his knuckles, Evan bent, put his lips to her forehead. “If you wish to accompany Niall and pick up a few things for yourself, you may.”
Then he turned away to his trays, his head bent attentively over them.
Niall gave Alanna a wry smile. Their vampire Master was done with them for now. Alanna was grateful for the Scot’s steadying touch as she made her way back up. A roiling stomach, the sensation of prickling lava and icy frost coursing through her arm, as well as the stricken feeling in her chest, weren’t conducive to good balance.
Before Niall dropped the trap door that would hide Evan from her sight, she looked back down once more at the vampire studying his pictures. His gray eyes were intent, long fingers moving the images under their wavering layer of pungent fluid.
She was a ship cut adrift, not sure if she was headed into a storm or calm seas. Not knowing, not being prepared, that was the worst part. If she was an InhServ worth anything, she would figure it out. Soon.