4
SHE’D vaguely remembered passing the general store at the bottom of the mountain, but hadn’t recognized it as a store. The large building had a rusty tin roof and gravel parking lot, surrounded by clumps of scrub. While the inventory inside was organized, there had been no attempt made to create eye-catching displays. Clothes were stacked on tables or hung up on a clothesline over them. Shoes were filed along another wall. Every available space was crammed full of foodstuffs, tools, deer corn, firearms, and over-the-counter medicines. By the cash register was a large bin of colorful hard candy. The interior smelled of old pine, the walls marked with sap like hardened candle wax.
Niall picked out her hiking shoes, loosened the lacings and put them on a bench made from a split log. The grain had a dull luster, polished by a variety of backsides. “Try these on, see if they’re a fair fit.”
As she took a seat and slipped off her boots, the proprietor ambled over. Given their surroundings, she’d expected a grizzled mountain man, but he was a fit male in his forties, with a clean-shaven face and receding hairline, evident by his close-cropped hairstyle. From the flag displayed behind the register, proudly stating Semper Fi, she deduced he’d been in the Marine Corps.
“Your friend going to be staying with you long, Niall?” he asked, eyeing her with friendly curiosity.
“Depends on how long it takes for law enforcement to track her. Kidnapping a female and bringing her up here to cook and clean for us isnae as easy as it used to be.”
“Yeah, damn it all. Howard Keel made it look so easy.”
“Which reminds me. Ye still have your movie section?”
“Sure do. Including several copies of Seven Brides for Seven Brothers.”
Niall gave Alanna a grin. “Throw one in the pile, Henry. She can use it as research. See what mountain life’s really like.”
“Yeah, that’ll help.” The man snorted, gave Alanna a second appreciative look. “Might have to come up and see how she’s doing.”
“And I might have to tell Elaine you dinnae have enough to do about the house. That woman will shoot ye in the gut if you stray. Let the coyotes finish you off.”
“You make her sound far more merciful than she is.” Henry nodded to Alanna. “How are those fitting, ma’am?”
“Very well.” She stood up, rocking on her feet. She’d never worn such a shoe. Though heavy and clunky, it would obviously be useful for moving through heavy forest terrain.
“Add in some Band-Aids. The lass will have blisters, those first couple hikes.”
As Henry moved back toward his register, Niall pointed to a shelf stuffed full of books. “There’s a few left at the cabin, but ye might pick up a few of those as well. Nae always much to do ’til Evan’s up.”
“Does he like having books read to him?”
“He’s never asked me to do it, and he taught me to read far better than I kenned at the time. But I was thinking about your own leisure time.”
Alanna dismissed that idea, but she did check out the shelves. She found one on area plants, an old one about painting landscapes, and another about Scots history. When she brought them to the counter and placed them next to Niall’s purchases, he grunted. “Those dinnae look like pleasure reading.”
“These will expand my knowledge of the area and Evan’s paintings.”
He glanced at the book of Scots history. “At least that one’s a work of romantic fiction.”
Alanna had kept the shoes on, wanting to get used to their feel. Now she rocked back and forth on her toes and the balls of her feet again. Niall gave her an amused look, gaze sweeping over the contrast of the bulky shoes with the feminine sweater and snug skirt. Taking the supple brown dress boots from her, he had Henry pack those in the empty box for the hiking shoes. He’d also had her choose several pairs of cargo pants like his, shorts and some long-sleeved T-shirts. When she’d balked at the expense to her Master, he’d overruled her, sensibly pointing out that her few casual clothes were suited for in-house chores, not trekking up rocky mountainsides with swarms of bugs and jutting branches that could tear thin, loose clothing. After another glance at her pale skin, Niall also added in sunblock.
Henry made an approving noise. “You’ll think you don’t need it, miss, because of how cool it’ll get at night, but the sun still shines hot on some days.”
He handed her a Hershey bar from a big glass jar kept in front of a fan to keep it cool in the non-air-conditioned building. There was a big woodstove in the center suggesting he heated up the store as needed during the snowy months. “Don’t fret,” he added. “If Niall did kidnap you, I expect a whole troop of male relatives will be coming to string him up in no time. In the meantime, you need help, just let me know. He’s no worse than wrestling a bear barehanded, and I’ve done that plenty of times.”
Niall scoffed. “Aye. Yet mention his wife and he turns pale and runs like a long-eared coineanach.”
“Shows I’m a man with good sense.” Henry laughed. “Rather than a thickheaded Scot. You all have a good day, now.”
Niall took up their bags, Alanna managing to snag one to help. Outside the store, she noticed a row of carved bears like the ones next to the bookcase. “Does Henry make those?”
“Aye, he’s a chain saw carver. Loves it. I’ll run ye out to his place if we’ve enough time here. Eagles, life-sized elk, even dragons and people. Better than a museum. So, do you have male relatives?”
She’d like to see all those carvings, but wondered if she should assure him there was no need to take her places, entertain her. Instead, she answered his question. “I had siblings and biological parents, but when you enter into the InhServ program, they cease to exist. So I have no family. However, I expect they’re still living.”
“Biological parents?” Niall looked puzzled.
“Yes.” She was patient, knowing most servants knew little about InhServs. “I was not permitted to call my parents familiar names, like Mother or Father, or even John and Stella. They were sir or ma’am, Mistress or Master.”
Anticipating him, she reached the Rover first, opened her own door. “You don’t have to wait on me, Niall. I’m here to serve, not to be taken care of. It’s going to be dinnertime soon. Does Evan like to join us, or do we prepare food just for us?” While vampires couldn’t eat food in the same quantities as servants, most liked to sample for taste and texture, and she assumed Evan would be the same.
Niall shrugged. “I always make a little extra, but ye already saw it. If he gets caught up in what he’s doing, hours pass before he’ll notice anything.” He slid into the driver’s side. Fishing in the bag, he tossed the sunscreen in her lap. “Go ahead and put some of that on your face. I’ll be happy to put it anywhere you can’t reach.”
“I can handle it myself,” she said evenly. His flirting confused her, but it was an even trade, because she could tell her family situation had baffled him. Randoms didn’t understand. On Day One, InhServs were told they weren’t human. They didn’t have family, friends or human experiences. She was a vampire’s servant, the sum total of her identity.
It was an honor like no other.
She put her belongings away in the dresser of the guest room. Niall said he wouldn’t need her until the dinner preparations, so she curled up on the sofa in the living room to read the book about plants. After handling some tasks outside, he ended up at the kitchen table, repairing what appeared to be some type of small engine.
He’d said little throughout the rest of the afternoon, giving her room with her own thoughts. Silence with him was surprisingly comfortable. She’d enjoyed pausing in her reading to watch him work oil into the gears, troubleshoot the engine. He had his hair tied back on his shoulders, his tawny gaze steady on his task. He handled the small machine parts with capable grace.
When he’d noted her curiosity, he’d invited her to come over and learn how it was done. A good teacher, he explained what he was doing, letting her adjust one of the gears under his direction. When it worked as it should, she felt a welcome sense of accomplishment that made the lines around his eyes crinkle at her obvious pleasure.
Mechanical skills had not been required of her, since Stephen had an extensive household, but any new skill could be useful. Even if she wouldn’t be around long to use it.
Apparently, there was no way to silence that cynical, terrifying voice in the back of her head.
Fortunately, it was time to prepare for dinner. Midafternoon, he’d had her take a frozen venison stew out of the freezer to thaw. Now he rose to start cooking, putting his project and tools away in a crate and stowing them in a corner. He told her to set the table.
She started that immediately after wiping the grease, oil and dirt from the table. She suspected he had deduced she would if he didn’t. His wink at her confirmed it. Typical male.
Ignoring him, she put out three place settings, but she could feel his regard. When she took up an extra set of napkins and began folding them, his curiosity drew him back to the table.
He slid into a chair next to her, making it creak with his bulk. “What are you doing?”
“Origami. This is something I did when preparing Lord Stephen’s table. His guests seemed to enjoy it.”
As the bird of paradise took shape, a relatively simple design, she handed the next napkin to him. “If you like, you can fold with me, follow the pattern.”
He shook his head. Remembering his mechanical aptitude with the engine parts, she suspected he could pick up the skill quickly enough based on sight alone.
When she finished, she placed the bird in the middle of Evan’s empty plate. “Do we have candles? A tablecloth?”
“Probably somewhere. It’s a rental cabin.”
She found a few stubby votives in the cabinets, a vinyl oval tablecloth in decent condition, printed with a pattern of cream-colored transparent leaves, and a silver plate. Bringing them back to the table, she removed the settings to the sideboard and put the cloth down, leaning over the table to smooth it. Her gaze was on her work, but she was well aware of Niall’s attention as she stretched across the table, her position emphasizing the roundness of hip and buttock.
Indulging such personal pleasures was not necessarily against the rules; she’d stolen more than one glance at him as well this afternoon. The open throat of his shirt, revealing the burnished curl of dark chest hair, the stretch of the cargo pants over haunch and thigh as he knelt to check something on the woodstove. The shrug of broad shoulders as he answered her questions. The way those tawny brown eyes watched her, trying to figure her out as much as she was him.
It was normal for servants to measure each other, getting familiar with what they might be required to touch in ways far more intimate. Evan hadn’t indicated whether he would enjoy performances by his two servants, the way it happened at vampire gatherings, but a servant must always be prepared. The idea made her feel unusually flustered. Perhaps it was the different surroundings, the situation. Plus, Niall’s regard could be . . . intense.
She made herself ignore it, creating a centerpiece with the silver plate and the stubby votives. When Niall went back to the stew, she slipped out the cabin door to hunt up some of the wildflowers she’d seen there. Retrieving a short blade from her pants pocket, since she’d changed into the clothes Niall said would be most suitable for hiking tonight, she flicked it open, cut the stems cleanly. She brought them in and arranged them in a couple of water glasses among the votives. It made an appropriate and attractive centerpiece for their mountain surroundings.
Finding matches, she lit the candles. As she did, Niall came to retrieve the cups. He moved back so she could pass between him and the table to reach the votives on the other side, but when she did, he put his hands lightly on her hips. She tensed, not sure of his intent, but it was a simple caress as he moved past.
The heat of his hands went right through her clothes. It made her think of that impending second mark, and how aroused the two men had been earlier in the evening. Her mind and body were anticipating, which she expected, but the butterflies were a surprise. Not unpleasant, but somewhat disconcerting.
Niall poured two cups of water, a glass of wine for her. “When I started out with him, I wasnae sure what he wanted, either. Beyond the obvious: blood and sex.”
It was as if he’d read her mind, but she took it in stride. “Blood and sex are primitive, essential needs,” she agreed, “but they’re the least important and easiest things we give to our Master. Vampires desire much more than that. A sense of the servant’s soul, resting fully in their hand, to do with as they will. The servant’s complete submission to that idea. Their unconditional devotion to the vampire’s care. That is what they seek.”
Niall raised a brow. “All that, then? Not every vampire is alike.”
“Not in the ways they approach it, perhaps. But that desire is what makes them vampire, and what draws us to them as servants. Weren’t you drawn to your Master?”
“It wasnae really like that for us. It was necessity. A debt owed.” He brought the wine and water to the table. While she’d been working on the wildflowers, she saw he’d made an attempt at the origami. As she lifted the mangled napkin, he snorted. “I’ve better luck with engines.”
“It’s like any new skill. Once you figure out the way of it, practice, it becomes easy. Or easier,” she amended, examining the results of his efforts. “If you sit down, I can show you how to do it again and guide your hands. It’s easier to learn that way.”
When he complied, she leaned over him with a new paper napkin, pressing close to guide his hands. However, his shoulders were too broad and arms too long for her to capably guide him. So she came around to his front, perched on his knee with a very practical air that made him smile, especially when she guided his arms around her and then aligned her own on the outside of them. “It starts with a skinny rectangle, then it’s just all about shapes and creases. And freeing the wings.”
Niall was sure she was right, that it was easy, but it was difficult to pay close attention with her sitting on his thigh. She’d already made it clear that everything she did was at Evan’s behest. However, her comfort with being so physically intimate with another servant—and so detached about it—was distracting. Especially when combined with how responsive she was to sexual stimulation. Whether a trained reaction or not, she became aroused at his and Evan’s touches as if she was meant to be theirs. It made him feel like a bear with a honeycomb held just out of reach.
However, even if he pushed that tree over to get the honey, she wasn’t his or anybody else’s to use, no matter that she seemed to think she was. Her attitude toward her family still had him reeling.
“Was it hard for your mother and father, to treat their wee bairn as a servant?”
Finished with the origami, she rose to retrieve the plates. When she brought them back to the table, she correctly put the one with far more stew poured over rice in front of him. She lifted a delicate shoulder. The T-shirt she was wearing was snug enough to create nice creases between her breasts, coaxing a male to trace them.
“They were prepared for it, long before I was born. It was far more difficult for my mother when Adam, my twin, decided to go with me and the InhServ accepted his petition.” She put her napkin in her lap, unfolded it. “The day we left, she held on to Adam so hard my father had to pry her fingers from the car door, keep her away from it as we drove off.”
She straightened, lips tightening. “There was no need for her to grieve. It was a great honor to be chosen, and they were compensated. They can live well for the rest of their lives, send all the rest of their children to college.”
“Except you.” Christ, it was like she was brainwashed.
“My training exceeds that of most college educations in the required subject areas.” She gave him an intelligent, shrewd look, not the vacant stare of an indoctrinated drone. That almost made it worse. “What I am shouldn’t distress you, Niall, because it certainly doesn’t me. I embraced being a servant fully, with no regrets. Didn’t you?”
Something in his expression must have alerted her, for she stopped. “My apologies. That’s a very personal thing. I wasn’t trying to pry.”
“I started it.” Truth, but he still couldn’t help the ugly twist in his gut. He nodded toward the centerpiece. She’d taken a discarded magazine, cut strips out of colorful ads and turned them into decorative curlicues around the glasses holding the flowers and votives. “This is pretty, but not necessary. Even if he had showed for dinner.”
“It’s important for a servant to make her vampire’s home inviting for him at all times,” she said, Miss Emily Post of the vampire world. “Even if he doesn’t come to dinner, everything is prepared as if he will be there. So when and if he comes, he knows his needs have been uppermost in the servant’s mind.”
“He’s not a bloody Council vampire.”
“He doesn’t have to be.” She looked genuinely puzzled. “It’s part of the core tenets of our service to any vampire.”
“Fine.” He scooped up stew, shoveled a bite in his mouth, chewed, staring at those flickering candles. Then he picked up the origami bird perched next to his water glass and crumpled it, wiping his mouth on the paper.
“I’m no vampire. I don’t need that kind of nonsense.” Picking up his plate and water, he left her there, shoving open the screen door with his foot. He’d eat out there, where there was more air to breathe.
Alanna folded her hands in her lap to conceal their tremor, not sure how to react. Staring at Niall’s broad back as he took a seat at the picnic table, she felt like she needed to say she was sorry, but she wasn’t sure for what. It wasn’t about him or her. All the settings needed to look properly prepared. What was wrong with that?
Despite the fact that her stomach now had a cold ball inside of it, she ate her stew. He’d reduced the wild game taste with a good marinade, but she could already imagine different herbs or mushrooms that might add to it. If she set some of her own stew aside, she could experiment with it. When he was in an improved mood, or when she came to know him somewhat better, she could make her suggestions then.
The cleaned and dressed kills in the refrigerator told her Niall was a capable subsistence hunter in their mountain environment, but, like many carnivorous males, he obviously didn’t see much need for anything beyond meat and potatoes. Henry’s store had a produce stand with locally grown vegetables and fruits. She could supplement and expand the menu, offer different tastes and textures, which might also bring Evan to the table more often.
Perhaps she was treating Evan like the type of vampire he wasn’t, but she had to be useful. If not, she would go mad.
Right after his meal, Niall came in to dump the plate in the sink and mentioned checking on something for Evan. He said he would be back by sunset. He didn’t invite her to come. Feeling shunned, and wanting to quell the self-serving feeling, Alanna put Evan’s unused place setting away, and washed the dishes she and Niall had used. Changing out of the soft shirt she wore for dinner, she put on her new long-sleeved tee over her cargo pants and braided her hair into a thick tail. Then she sat back down with her plant book.
Perhaps she’d eaten too much stew, because she found her eyelids drooping, the day catching up with her. As she struggled to keep reading, she realized she missed Niall’s company.
A touch on her shoulder woke her instantly, but Niall’s fingers tightened before she could jump up. “It’s all right, lass. You dozed off for a bit. We’re getting ready to go, and I wanted ye to have time to wake up. Feel like putting together some provisions for us?”
“Yes, certainly.” She flushed as she scrambled to her feet, the book dropping from her lap. It was full dark outside, suggesting she’d done more than nod off. As Niall retrieved the book, he gave her an appraising look. “If your clothes didn’t have the smell of Henry’s store, you’d pass for a seasoned hiker. Put water in your backpack, as well as the Band-Aids and a snack or two. You might take a couple o’ books to pass the time. If Evan doesnae need us, I’ll take ye for a hike.”
She was even more disconcerted to see Evan leaning against the kitchen counter. He was wearing fitted cargo pants similar to Niall’s, and a button-down shirt. The cotton fabric was relaxed enough that the open neckline showed a generous line of his chest. He gave her an absent nod, his mind obviously already on the subject matter ahead and the camera equipment he was checking.
Once she packed the backpack, she stayed out of the way. She wasn’t a fluttering bird when she didn’t know what to do. Instead, she noted how Niall arranged the equipment in a much larger pack, going through a mental checklist to ensure he had everything needed. Evan did something similar, rechecking the items that would be most important to him. Though she picked up that there was some urgency to arriving at a certain time at their destination, Evan could get lost in whatever he was doing, whether it was studying some earlier films, considering lens options or thinking about choices of lighting. However, Niall anticipated him, keeping the vampire moving with prodding comments and of course having everything ready when Evan finally closed his case and latched it.
In her experience, an undercurrent of deference always existed between vampire and servant. It might be taught, like with an InhServ, but it was also something instinctual, something in the respective natures of the human and vampire that created that sense of servant and Master. With Niall and Evan, it was more elusive. The two men were well-synced, though, so familiar with each other their movements seemed choreographed. When Niall placed something in the pack and Evan reached under his arm for another lens, Niall automatically shifted to give him room. Evan noted something about the schedule while Niall shrugged in response, without glancing his way.
It was . . . intriguing. A puzzle. So intriguing she almost missed her own cue. They’d gone out into the yard, and now Niall was looking for her. “Alanna? Time to go.”
There was impatience in his tone, as if he expected to have to pull her away from flower gathering or some such female nonsense. When she came out promptly, his brow smoothed, however. He put her in the passenger seat while Evan took the back, where he started scribbling some notes and calculations on a pad he had spread open on the seat. Niall put the vehicle in gear, and they were headed up the mountain in the moonlight.
The road was still a deer path, so Niall moved at a crawl over the bumpy terrain, paying attention to the faint ruts that marked the road, twisting and turning through the trees. When they passed through sudden openings, she glimpsed the mountain view before the trees closed in once more. She studied the patterns of the leaves that slid along the glass, reaching up to follow them with her fingertips. On one of them she saw a green bug of some kind, valiantly continuing to chew on his evening meal even as it rippled across the surface of the window. Looking ahead, she caught the flash of red in a deer’s eyes as the doe lifted her head then moved out of the track without hurry. A moment later, Alanna drew in a breath as a stag bounded out of the trees, touched down directly in front of the Rover’s grill, and then, with one leap, cleared the foliage on the other side and disappeared again.
“Wow,” she breathed. Niall gave her a sidelong glance and a half smile, then returned his attention to the road.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was an arse.”
She shook her head, denying the need for the apology, but it made something loosen in her chest, especially when he reached out, touched her knee. Glancing behind her, she saw Evan still writing. It reminded her of Lord Brian’s preoccupation with his research, how often Debra handled communication because he was deep in his head. “Don’t be fooled,” Niall advised. “He doesn’t miss anything.”
“No, I don’t,” Evan said, not looking up. “You acting like an ass is such a common occurrence, I didn’t figure it required any comment on my part.”
Niall shifted gears, making the Rover jump and rev with a brief spurt of gas. Alanna saw Evan lift his pencil a mere second before it happened, preventing a jagged slash across his paper, then he calmly went back to scribbling. “I think you just underscored my point.”
“Numpty.” Niall snorted.
“Best you can do? Noshech kariot.”
“That part’s mostly your fault, isn’t it? Och, weel, you wur brocht up mair refainit than me then.” Niall nodded out the window. “Look, Alanna.”
She jerked her astounded attention to the front again, in time to see a possum scurrying across their path. It paused, baring its yellowed teeth in a hiss, then continued across.
“During the birthing season, she might have a wee one or two clinging to her, if they’re not inclined to ride in her pouch. The bairns are cute as kittens. The adults are almost as cantankerous as I am.” Seeing her blank look, he grinned. “Numpty is the Scots term for idiot. He called me a pillow biter in Hebrew. I think you can figure out the rest.”
She wasn’t sure she could.
A few moments later, Niall turned off into another small clearing, this one ringed with trees that hid the mountain view. “We hike from here,” he advised.
The men donned the two large backpacks holding the equipment, Niall refusing to let her carry anything but the small pack with snacks and her chosen book. “You’ll have enough to do, keeping pace,” he promised, and he was right.
She realized she should bring up the rear, so she wouldn’t delay the men, but Niall took that position, the two of them flanking her. Determined not to be a burden, she pushed herself to keep up with their longer legs. However, the steep grade began to take its toll within a couple of miles. As a servant, she’d maintained a strict workout and diet regimen to stay in excellent shape, but she hadn’t had time to restore her strength properly, even by human standards.
Never in her life had a complaint passed her lips, and today wasn’t going to be the first time. She tried to focus on her surroundings, how the forest canopy occasionally thinned enough to show her the moon, or a glimpse of the mountains off the steep decline to her left. It was as if they were traveling through a woodland tunnel, granted the occasional window of the world outside of it.
There were all sorts of sounds. Niall told her the short grunts or gusts were deer, and they had to stay cautious of them during rutting season, which was almost upon them. A chittering noise turned out to be a pair of raccoons climbing a nearby tree. Pointing, he showed her the shadows of their movements along the bark. The moonlight was sufficient to light the way of a vampire and third mark; she understood better now why they were having her walk between them, because though the light wouldn’t have been enough for her in that regard, it was enough to stay aligned with their track. She wanted that second mark. It might augment her strength, and it would definitely help her night vision. As well as her sensitivity to temperature.
As the night deepened, it also cooled. She’d worn only the pants and serviceable long-sleeved T-shirt, because the men were in similar outfits. With the exertion of keeping up, it wasn’t a present concern. But she reminded herself it wouldn’t matter anyway. She’d been cold plenty of times.
Stumbling, she caught herself on a branch, wrapped in a thorny vine that jabbed her hand. Smilax bona-nox. Saw greenbrier. She recognized it from her book. Unfortunately, when she started to draw back, she realized she’d stepped into the patch of it growing up from the base of the sapling, such that it dug its barbs into her pants leg and tangled over her foot. A whole thicket of it came up with her when she tried to pull away, which also incited a small army of bugs to swarm around her. The branch had swayed under her shift of weight, and now the vine there had trapped her hand.
She started to yank free, but Niall caught her arm. “Be still, muirnín. The barbs’ll tear your skin.” The moonlight flashed over the switchblade he pulled out to free her legs with several efficient cuts. Then he straightened and did the same for her arm. As he did so, he slid his fingers along her forearm. “Ye could do some intriguing things with this, keeping a lass still while pleasuring her, hmm? Or watch her get so wild under tongue and hands that she doesnae mind the bite of thorns so much.”
Her reaction to that was involuntary and immediate, her breath shortening and skin tingling beneath his hold. Currently held by his command to be still, and by the light prick of the thorns, she was aware of how close he stood to her, the lazy survey of those tawny eyes, acknowledging her helplessness and her reaction to being at his mercy. And not him alone.
Evan had retraced his steps, and now pressed up behind her, his fingers replacing Niall’s around her forearm to hold it steady as Niall finished cutting her loose. “An intriguing thought. Fortunately, plenty of this grows close to the cabin as well.” The vampire surveyed her arm, which had two jagged scratches.
“I apologize, sir,” she said. “I’m not familiar with hiking. No need for me to slow you down. I’ll catch up.”
“If I wanted to use my vampire speed, I’d be there about an hour before both of you, wouldn’t I?” Giving her an inscrutable look, he bent to put his mouth on her arm, sucking on the two gashes, his tongue swirling over her flesh. She wanted to lean back into him, but that was seeking intimacy, closeness, and Stephen had never welcomed that, pushing her away and teaching her to remain still. The way Evan touched her made her wonder if he felt differently about it. Figuring the blocker and Stephen’s torment had distorted her perspective, she played it safe, remaining upright. However, the longer Evan’s mouth rested on her skin, the more she wanted to be closer, follow his movement with a complementary response.
Evan lifted his head, sparing her the embarrassment of such impropriety. “Even on a schedule,” he said, “it’s never just about getting where we’re going. What’s along the way may end up being more important.” He fingered the thorny vine. “The birds love the berries on these. Look through there. Can you see the tree, its leaves?”
He leaned past the greenbrier, his elegant hand passing unscathed through the vines, like a forest spirit in truth. When he caught a slim branch of the tree he’d indicated, he pulled it down with a gentle grip, showing her the unusual leaf shape. Niall provided a small flashlight, augmenting her vision. “The leaves look like teapots, don’t they? In the spring, they have clusters of berries that look like tiny pumpkins, no bigger than a child’s marble.”
When he nodded that it was okay, she touched the leaves, feeling the smooth shapes. “If you’re studying the plant life here, you should take leaf samples, make yourself a journal to document them, figure out the ones you’re not sure about.”
Preparing such a journal would be useful . . . and it interested her. She thought of supplementing the samples with some sketches of the trees, and then regretted she hadn’t brought one of her composition books with her, because she’d bought a couple at the store to take notes about her duties.
“I’m sorry, sir. I should have brought—”
“If I want an apology from you, Alanna, I’ll tell you.”
“Yes, sir.” She bit back the additional apology, but the direct order infused her with a sudden, welcome calm, despite bugs, thorny vines and aching feet, back and legs.
He nodded. “Not to contradict myself, but we are trying to reach our destination ahead of the moon’s current track. We’re going to pick up the pace. Can you manage it?”
She didn’t lie about things that could inconvenience her Master, but she would have preferred to cut out her tongue rather than say it. “No, sir. But I can wait here until you return.”
“No. You’re only carrying the one mark right now. I won’t be able to hear you if there’s a problem.”
“You were going to take care of the second mark when you got up,” Niall reminded him. “You just pissed away your time as usual.”
“I didn’t forget,” Evan said, unconcerned. “Timing is important. I’d rather not treat her second mark like one of your beef jerky breaks.”
“Artists.” Niall rolled his eyes at Alanna. “Everything is a bloody production.”
“Whereas a practical Scot calls the Mona Lisa a homely lass with a dodgy smile.”
“I’m not wrong about that. I can carry her, if you can carry the gear. Or vice versa.”
Alanna was starting to digest the astounding fact that this was normal conversation between them. “That’s not necessary,” she interjected hastily. “Since you’ve given me the first mark, sir, I can sense where you are, if you’ll open your mind to allow that. I can follow and catch up to you both.”
“She weighs no more than a brace of quail,” Niall pointed out. He shot her a grin and spoke in broad Scots. “Guid things come in sma bulk.”
Evan shrugged. “Very well.” Taking the second pack from Niall, he shook his head at her. “It’s no inconvenience for him, Alanna. He’s very suited to being a beast of burden. I’m fairly certain he was an ox in a previous life.”
“I probably ended up jamming one of my horns up some vampire’s arse, too,” Niall replied. He dropped to a knee. “Jump on, muirnín. If you wrap your arms and legs around me, I’ll be able to ‘experience the journey’ all the better.”
Evan had shouldered the gear, was already proceeding up the trail. They’d completely ignored her opinion in the matter. She should be used to that, but it rankled all the same, given the circumstances. Regardless, she obeyed, bending to put her arms around Niall’s shoulders. As he rose to his feet, he gave her a hitch to secure her legs, crossing them over his abdomen and clasping her ankles. He also adjusted her arms so instead of pressing against his windpipe, her forearms crossed his sternum, her cheek pressed against the side of his head, his hair teasing her face.
“I willnae rattle your teeth, but let me know if ye get uncomfortable.”
She was as likely to do that as she was to saw off one of her fingers, but she merely nodded against his jaw. She felt the pull of a smile and then he was moving, his legs eating up the ground in a steady trot she never could have matched. Even as a third mark, she would have had to run to keep up. As the grade became steeper, his speed increased accordingly, the Scot not winded by the pace or terrain.
When they were cutting her loose from the vines, she’d resisted the desire to lean into Evan’s body. She didn’t have to resist this time. For one thing, Niall was a servant, but for another, the position required her to hold on tight, which pressed her breasts into his broad back, her inner thighs spread to accommodate his hips, her calves over his groin. His pace provided a stimulating friction that had her fantasizing about him putting her down on the forest floor, using those vines to secure her. The thorns would be a delicious prick of pain as he spread her for his Master, her thighs pushed down farther by their bodies as they each took their turn, lying upon her, naked, hard and wanting, her p-ssy wet and ready to serve them.
There had been times Stephen took her while feeding. Though it had been merely a functional release for him, she always responded with excitement and pleasure, even if her mind sometimes escaped, going to a place where he responded to her emotionally during the sex, in a way he never truly did. He didn’t mind her fantasizing in such a way, as long as the fantasy was about him and achieved the desired result.
She didn’t need the fantasy to be aroused now. The need for touch, connection, was sharp as a vampire’s fang. As she held on to Niall, she had to bite down on a moan as the impact of his swift pace and the rocky terrain created a repetitive bump against her *.
When at last he came to a stop, she estimated they’d covered several miles in less than a half hour. Her breath was unsteady, her palms damp against his chest. In the not-so-casual insertion of his thumb beneath her clasped hands, the intimate rub against the damn creases of her palm, he acknowledged the arousal she was sure he could scent.
“Look up,” he said. “This is our first stop. The one where the moon’s track is important.”
Reluctantly shifting her grip to his shoulders, she tilted her head back. The clearing was so small the tree branches laced together around it. The moon was directly in the center of their circle, a halo of yellow-white light radiating out from the white pearl.
“Like a moon goddess in a circle of ancient witches, reaching up with bony fingers to adore her.” Evan was behind her. “Lean all the way back and let go, Alanna. Keep your eyes on the moon.”
Tightening her thighs over Niall’s hips, she obeyed. Compliance had long ago made the issue of trust irrelevant. As she dropped her head back, she let go of the Scot’s shoulders. A short drop of her upper body through space, and then she was at a forty-five degree angle. Niall held her ankles locked securely around his body as Evan’s palm supported her between her shoulder blades. “Lift your hand,” the vampire said. “Toward the moon.”
He’d sent a command to Niall, because the servant turned inside the grasp of her legs. As his groin rubbed against hers from the movement, her body contracted in reaction. His large hands rested on her thighs as her ankles crossed over the rise of his buttocks.
“Alanna.”
She jerked her hand up, obeying Evan’s command. The vampire intercepted it, catching her wrist, stroking it, soothing her, and then eased her hand upward along the track he wanted before he let her go.
As her fingers reached toward that full sphere, Niall’s met them. His forefinger crossed her middle finger, his ring finger crooking around her smallest one. The branches formed the backdrop, the moon casting different types of light against pale skin, tanned skin, the gray-toned bark.
“There. Keep them still.” She heard the camera clicking from below and realized Evan was crouching beneath them, working the camera one-handed as he kept the bracing hand on her back. “Now, move your fingers with Niall’s however you like. Just keep them inside the moon’s sphere.”
Complying, she saw their fingers were becoming part of the tapestry of the tree branches. When the pictures were developed, she wondered if it would be hard to distinguish what part was human hands, and what digits belonged to the trees, reality concealed by the twist and turns of the shadows, the light breeze moving those thinner branches, the haze of the moon’s aura behind it all.
Move your fingers with Niall’s however you like . . . She started in a functional way, a predictable pattern, not certain what Evan was seeking, but Niall slowed her pace, made it a more random, sensual dance, like that of the trees. His fingers slid under and over hers, tracing her knuckles, the tender flesh between. The wind moving the branches became something different, spirits dancing for the moon, a dance in which they were also a part.
Niall’s thumb slid down the center of her palm, gliding over her wrist pulse, then went back up, following her straightening fingertips, exercising enough pressure her fingers uncurled and responded to the strength of his, like the branches giving way before the breeze. Her thighs constricted further on his waist, his hips, responding to his hardening cock with a rhythmic undulation. It felt natural, like part of the dance, and Niall’s other hand pressed into her hip, underscoring it.
Evan set aside his camera to free her hair. He combed out the braid, putting her in a state of bliss at the stroking caress. When the hip-length tresses came loose, they drifted to the forest floor, the weight of it pulling her head back so her throat arched. She wanted to look at him, but kept her eyes on the moon, her lips parted with pleasure.
Niall met her fingertips in a tent shape, sliding back down between the crevices, clasping her hand, holding that unified shape, an octagonal space between their palms through which the light of the moon funneled, spreading its glow on what should be the dark side of their grip. The camera clicked again, Evan’s other hand leaving her briefly, but then it was back, the camera silent.
When Evan gripped a handful of her hair, twisting it in a closed fist so she felt the tug on her scalp, her eyes closed. As his fangs brushed her throat, she let out a little sigh of air. Her pulse pounded, an invitation. A plea he must hear.
Though Niall had goaded Evan about his misuse of time, she’d also detected an amused acceptance she now understood. The vampire might not respect a schedule, but his value of timing, if it was always like this, made up for it.
Since Stephen, she hadn’t realized how cold and lifeless she’d been inside, preparing to be a corpse. She’d been afraid to let in warmth or light, because fear of death would come with it. It was better to go ahead and make her mind believe she was already dead.
Evan wouldn’t allow her to be cold and lifeless. The two males felt . . . immersed in her responses. As Evan caressed the tender joining skin between her fingers and won a soft moan from her lips, Niall’s eyes flickered. Evan laid his other hand on her heart, fingers firm over the curve of her breast, her heartbeat increasing beneath his touch as he brushed his lips along her throat, teased her with his tongue, his breath.
He was touching her purely for his enjoyment, yes, but he wanted something from her . . . something more than a measurable physical response. Something more spontaneous, less trained. If she thought about what that was, anxiety could invade this moment, freeze her under their touch. Since she was certain that wouldn’t be what he desired, she tried not to think.
She was clutching Niall’s fingers, then releasing them, then stretching her own fingers out, a rhythmic cycle, an articulation of what they were making her feel inside. Had Evan been taking pictures of that as well, and she’d been too involved to notice?
It didn’t matter. Staring up at that moon, seeing the interplay of all the pieces of the picture, she wondered if what Evan had orchestrated was like what divine powers did, bringing together certain elements to see what kind of magic they produced, for their own wonder and delight.
Evan bit down, fangs piercing her artery. She cried out, clasping Niall’s fingers hard, then they were sliding free again, twisting . . . It was a tangled dance against a moon that became even brighter with the rush of emotion through her chest. She would once again have the mind of another in her head, that empty, cold area filled with something new. It wouldn’t be the third mark, but she’d take it, the closest she’d get to that feeling she’d missed so much.
The flutter of the leaves and slim branches that had joined the silhouettes of their hands, brushing and caressing those shadows, was too far up for contact, but she felt so connected to them that the movement of the wind over her skin felt like their touch.
As Evan released the second mark into her vein, she stiffened despite her best attempt not to do so. This one hurt even worse. She clutched Niall’s hand again, trying not to fight the pain. She wanted to embrace it, let it course through her. It was the best moment she’d had in a while.
Bring me back to life . . . you healed me . . . broken pieces . . . It was a song she’d heard once, on the music player of the gardener at the Berlin castle. The song had a Latin rhythm, soft guitar strands. The voice of the male singer was yearning, rough. In need.
Your touch makes me whole again . . .
She’d rarely spoken during those days she sat in the garden. But she’d asked the gardener the name of the song.
“Stitch by Stitch.” Appropriate. She was a broken doll, being stitched back together again, and the needle’s puncture hurt.
“Easy. There we go, lass. Easy.” The earlier mark was a burn, like a flame too close. This was like holding her arm again a hot stove, only the fire was scorching her skin from inside her veins. She gasped, struggling through it as Evan eased his touch on her hair. His thumb massaged the occipital bone, and when Niall’s hand closed over her wrist, that restraint, the stimulation to two erogenous zones, counterbalanced the agony, giving her something to combat it.
I would have liked you to only feel pleasure from that. I’m sorry, Alanna.
Pain . . . demand. Please. The natural response of her body to a Master’s demand came to her defense, to bear whatever a vampire needed her to bear. His apology wasn’t what she needed, and the plea was in her mind before she thought about the presumption of making it. But his fingers stilled for only a breath before he dug his fingers into her hair, drawing her head back, pulling against her scalp. “Let it flow through, Alanna,” he said, low and steady, those gray eyes dominating her vision. Dominating her, period. “Accept me as your Master.”
Niall captured both of her wrists, now crossed over her chest. His knuckles brushed the cleft between her breasts, and she arched into the strength of his hands. Had Evan spoken to the Scot directly, told him to increase the sense of restraint, or had he simply known? Somehow, she suspected the latter.
A relieved breath escaped her, even though it was thready, overcome by the pain. “Thank you, sir.”
It seemed to take the pain far longer to ebb this time, but agony was like that. She’d been at a vampire dinner once where they’d subjected the servants to a pain endurance test, and then asked the servant to guess how much time had passed while the pain was inflicted upon them. The one who guessed closest won a special prize for his Master or Mistress, a pretty silver goblet offered by the host. She’d won, because she’d counted every second off in her head, refusing to lose track, even through the application of the brands to the bottoms of her feet. They had healed in almost the same amount of time, the benefit of the third mark.
Opening her eyes, she saw Niall’s intent brown eyes, the set line of his jaw. His thumbs passed over her pulse again, making her lips part anew, the muscles in her thighs tremble.
All right, then, muirnín?
Evan had given his servant a direct line to her mind, at least for this moment, and knowing they were both there, that she was no longer alone in her head, was so overwhelming, she couldn’t speak, even as thought. She started trembling, her fingers curling over Niall’s, still holding her wrists.
It’s all right, yekirati. Shhh. We’re here.
Evan’s voice now. Never in her entire life had a vampire comforted her. Thanked her. Apologized to her. Evan had done all three in less than a day.
“So I require a great deal of training from my InhServ to meet proper standards?”
“No, sir . . . I could never . . .” Then she saw the gray eyes crinkling at the corners, though a serious cast remained to his features.
“That’s your job, isn’t it? Teaching a made vampire how to act more like a born vampire?”
Yes, but even when providing the most subtle guidance to Stephen, she did so from a kneeling position, her head bowed, always making it clear she was an instrument. A gift, like money or a title, that would help him ascend in the ranks of the vampires. At no time was the gift to appear superior to the one to whom she’d been given. In the end, she’d certainly not been a gift to Lord Stephen.
“I’m here to serve you however you require, Master.” He’d said she’d know when to call him that. She saw the dark brows knitting, lips firming in a way that made her want to touch his face, even if she’d never dream of doing that without being commanded.
Evan returned her to a vertical position, guiding her to put her arms around Niall’s shoulders again, only she was face-to-face with the Scot this time. As he guided her legs back to the ground he held on to her, because her legs were shaking. One large hand cupped her face, pressing her cheek to his shoulder as Evan redid her hair in a loose braid.
“‘And whenever a woman grows her hair, it is a glory to her, because her hair is given to her in place of a covering.’ In short, a veil to show her respect to God, to her Master.” The vampire stroked the shorter tendrils behind her ears, lingering on the delicate shell shape. Alanna stayed still, thinking she could remain like this forever. Their bodies and hands touching her, their voices in her mind. It was the safest she’d ever felt, in a world where she’d never thought to ask for sanctuary.
When she was at last steady enough for Niall to ease his hold, let her stand on her own two feet, Evan was squatting on his heels nearby, the thin fabric of the cargos pulling attractively across his thighs. He was checking the shots on the screen of the camera. His notebook was open on the ground, and he was making some other notations.
“We have a little farther to go,” Niall told her, his hand on the small of her back. “But it’s just a couple hundred yards. Since he’s done the timed shot, we can set an easier pace. Do you feel up to walking?”
She felt like flying. So she nodded.