by Opal Carew
Brian had been clear. He expected her to wear the lab coat—open—over the lacy bra and panty set. He also told her to wear the one pair of stiletto heels she had.
As she left her room and headed for the south lawn near midnight, she knew she might encounter someone in the hallways, but a servant in a state of undress didn’t cause the bat of an eye lash in a vampire enclave. She still wasn’t comfortable with it, but fortunately everyone else seemed to be.
As if summoned by that wry thought, the first person she met was Jacob. Though he was obviously headed somewhere, striding with purpose, his step hitched as he got a full view of her, and he detoured from the intersection of the hallway to intercept her.
She was still bad about blushing. Jacob’s gaze was coursing over her with not-unpleasant male appreciation and she had to suppress the ridiculous urge to close the lab coat. He’d seen her naked plenty of times. Just not dressed provocatively like this.
“Nice night to go out. You might get a little chilly, though.” He was picking on her in that gentle way of his, trying to make her feel less self-conscious. Would she ever figure out how to accept this like the others did? How did they do it?
When Jacob reached out to run a knuckle along her cheek to tease her about her blush, she stepped back, nearly bumping the suit of armor behind her. “Sorry,” she stammered. “I can’t.”
Brian had made something else clear before he left her at her door to prepare. It was a provocative mandate he’d never put upon her before, contributing even more to her unsettled state of mind. She knew she sounded like an idiot, so she cleared her throat, tried to grab hold of the maturity she used to present things to Council. It had been so long since Brian had treated her like this, she was acting like a nervous schoolgirl meeting her crush behind the gym.
“I meant…Lord Brian specified that no male was to touch me on my way to him…like this.”
Jacob’s shift in expression made her suddenly aware of him as a very sexually confident male, one who had more than a touch of sexual Dominant as well. The submissive in her couldn’t help but get flustered by it.
He gave her a nod. “That’d be my move, if you were mine. Atta boy, Brian.”
Tossing her a fond look, he stole a quick tug of her hair as he resumed course. Though not technically an infraction, it pushed the edges of it. She gave him an exasperated look and continued on her way, but she did feel a bit steadier.
It was a beautiful night. A full half-moon over the south lawn made the thick grass a pale silver-green. Slipping off her heels, she carried them through the landscaped gardens. Since she always enjoyed the rose arbor and it wasn’t out of her way, she took the winding path of stepping stones through it. The fragrance of the blooms clustered so close around her inspired her to stop and take a quick sniff of a light pink one, enjoy the feel of the silk petals against her nose and cheeks.
There’s a pair of shears sitting on the bench. Brian spoke in her head. Clip one off.
When she hesitated, she heard his velvet chuckle in his head. I already asked Lyssa if it was all right. We’re safe from her wrath.
She smiled at that. Picking up the shears, she wondered how he’d anticipated her path.
I’m a little more observant than my servant thinks I am.
It was an unnerving thought, one that sent a shivery cascade of feeling through her. Carefully snipping off the bloom, leaving a half foot thorny stem, she put down the shears and brought the blossom back to her nose for another pleasurable inhale.
Trail it between your breasts. Over them.
She did, her breath catching at the sensation and his command. The scent wafted up as nerves tingled along the curves, held up plump and enticing in the bra he’d wanted her to wear. Jacob hadn’t been able to look away from them.
I’d advise you not to bring up his name again tonight.
It was an easy command to follow. There was only one name she wanted to think about.
Master.
Slide it lower. Along your thighs.
She put the shoes down and obeyed, making a hum in her throat as the weight of the bloom aroused her clit under the silky panties. It was already engorged and wanting attention.
Then come find me and I will attend to it.
Clasping the rose and reclaiming her shoes, she moved along the stepping stones. Once emerging from the gardens close to the house, her bare feet sunk into a carpet of grass. She was on the main stretch of the south lawn, four acres of lush green dotted with trees and hedge groupings, backed by a thick forest. But a servant always knew where to find her vampire.
On the western corner of the mowed area, a trio of live oaks provided his stargazing spot. A nice flat stretch glided down a slope to a pretty man-made pond with a fountain. The soft rush of water was like the sound of the wind. She saw the silhouettes of the ducks sleeping on the banks, since a mallard pair and their annual crop of babies lived there in the warmer months.
Then she saw Brian, and everything else disappeared.
She did pick at him about his pocket protectors and sweater vests, but he was never rumpled or mismatched—except for the occasional need to straighten his tie as she’d done earlier. When he wore one, he tended to pull at it while working. Otherwise, his clothing was always high quality. He wore slacks and crisply ironed shirts, matched with tailored coats when needed. Inside the lab or out, he looked like a wealthy man, a successful scientist who ran his own facility, ready to present to his benefactors or direct a full lab staff as needed. He didn’t really do casual.
Tonight he had. In a way that had her swallowing, hard.
He wore a pair of belted jeans and nothing else. The body she’d enjoyed touching for such a brief time in the bedroom was on mouthwatering display, the sculpted pectorals and tight abs, the shoulders just the right breadth. The jeans weren’t tight, but they were worn enough to cling the right way to groin and ass. He was stretched out on a blanket on his side, head propped up on one hand, his body sprawled out like a lazy predator, an impression enhanced by the sharp focus of his eyes, covering her from head to toe.
“Put on the shoes, then come to me,” he said.
She’d maneuvered on the four-inch stilettos well enough in the halls. Maybe better than well enough. That pendulum sway to her hips the unstable shoes required had been another thing Ja—those she passed—noticed.
Brian’s eyes glinted, acknowledging the wisdom of her self-editorializing. Balancing herself precariously, she put on one shoe, then the other. The only way to walk across the few feet of grass in stilettos would be carefully, on her toes, a mincing gait that made her breasts quiver in a way she could tell he liked. He even pushed himself up on one straightened arm to get a better look. For her part, she couldn’t take her eyes off his bare chest, the corded throat, his muscles layered and stretched over his abdomen, drawing the eyes to denim molded around his groin. He was aroused, evident by the sizeable strain in that area. She moistened her lips.
Right before she stumbled.
She’d never been good with the blasted things, even on solid surfaces. For the most part, Brian had always been fine with her wearing modest one- or two-inch heels for Council events or vampire formal occasions to save her embarrassment. As a result, this was the only pair of spiky heels she owned, purchased early in their relationship when she was learning what vampires liked to see their servants wear. When she first wore them, Brian hadn’t seemed that intrigued, so she’d put them away.
She expected a face plant in the grass. Instead, she found herself caught against that solid chest, his arms around her as he steadied her, drew her back to an upright position that pressed her lace-clad breasts against his bare skin. He smiled down at her. “Kick them off.”
She did. She was average height without them, but right now he felt so much taller.
“Next time I’ll have you wear your canvas sneakers,” he said. “That old ratty white pair you like so much.”
“It wouldn’t go so well with
this outfit.”
“I think it goes perfectly with you.” He slid the light coat off her shoulders so she was in bra and panties alone. Then he bent and placed a kiss on her back, below her left shoulder blade.
Directly over her third mark.
The significant, tender and yet possessive gesture made every nerve ending in her body yearn toward that spot, her heart somersaulting. Every full servant bore a mark, a cross between a scar and a birthmark that appeared during the third marking. When he’d fully marked her all those years ago in the lab, her third mark had appeared on her back, positioned over her heart. It looked like an X, with the two top ends thickened.
The shape of the mark was dictated by forces beyond vampire understanding, usually an unmistakable meaning to it. She hadn’t yet figured out what hers was, but just having his mark had always been meaningful enough to her.
He brushed his lips over it again. “Sweet servant,” he murmured. “Down on the blanket. On your back.”
As she complied, he stood over her, watching, and it stole her breath, his arousal prominent against the jeans, his unapologetic virility. It was a side of Brian very few ever saw. This version of it was new to her as well, but entirely welcome.
“I’m glad my servant approves.” He gave her a faint smile tinged with sensual warmth, telling her he wasn’t chiding her. “Spread your legs for your Master.”
She did, and he moved forward, hooking his foot under her right knee and moving it so it bent outward. Understanding, she did the same with the other, so her thighs formed a wide, empty cradle. The position also stretched her panties over her swollen cunt.
“You’re nice and wet already.”
“Yes, Master. For you.”
His gaze flickered up at the uneven sound of her voice. She was trying not to let the emotional interfere, but her heart was starting to race like a freight train. She didn’t want to have a panic attack, wanted to live in the moment and not worry about what this did or didn’t mean. But she couldn’t seem to be objective.
When he stood over her like this, he seemed so much bigger, larger than life. Like when they’d met. But that wasn’t why she’d fallen for him. It was when she realized he was a complicated mix that he’d won her heart. He was a genius, yes. He could also lose ten pens a week because he couldn’t remember where he’d put them down. He’d break off in mid-conversation with a high-ranking vampire simply because he went somewhere else in his head to solve a problem. Though it didn’t happen too often, she’d seen him lose his temper, break the top of a table with his fist. It had been yet another test of the serum cure for the Delilah virus, another failure to find an alternative to killing servants.
She was the one who’d convinced him they needed to take a short break on that project. Give it time to breathe and come back to it. They would find the solution that would save both servant and vampire eventually. She was sure of it.
It had been a while since she’d remembered so vividly that dangerous strength he possessed. He could crush her in his arms, yet she never feared his hold on her. Not for that reason.
She knew he was in her head. She could tell by his changed expression. But he didn’t say anything about those thoughts. He was her Master. It wasn’t his job to reassure or explain. She embraced that idea, even as the gaps it left felt like open wounds.
He dropped to one knee next to her, leaned down and stroked his fingers through her hair, spreading it out on the blanket. “Your hair has more colors of gold than autumn,” he observed. “You never color it.”
“No…I never have.”
Nodding, he traced her cheek, her lips. “And very rarely do you wear makeup. Sometimes for formal events you add some eye liner, shadow, and it makes your eyes even more soulful. They’re like a shy animal’s eyes, liquid brown and watchful, wanting to trust.”
“Master.” Don’t. Please don’t.
His own eyes darkened. “I’ll do as I wish, won’t I? And you’ll bear it.”
She nodded, choked out a sob as he bent, put his mouth on hers. Not a penetrating, demanding kiss, but a meeting of lips where he nuzzled, breathed into her mouth. It was terribly unfair, that a man this intelligent could kiss like this.
He lifted his head only the necessary space to stare into her eyes. “You’ve been wanting to ask me a question this week. I thought I caught a glimpse of it once or twice, but it’s surrounded by a lot of emotions. I think we’ll both benefit from you being brave enough to walk out of that storm and ask the question.”
No. Don’t make me go through that again. Please.
He touched her face. “If you know one thing about vampires, you know we have a ruthless side. I’m no exception to that.”
No, he wasn’t. She closed her eyes. “Please don’t make me do it, Master.”
“Ask me the question, Debra. Trust me as you did once, long ago.”
That brought her eyes back open. While he still had that implacable look, there was something else there. A desire…a hope. Maybe a need for her to trust him.
He hadn’t earned that. She knew that, rationally. But the plain truth of it was she’d never been able to deny him anything.
Beyond that, sometimes a project turned up data that provided answers for another project. The Delilah virus cure had required in-depth research on the makeup of the servant himself or herself. As such, it had led to a hypothesis, still under investigation, that vampire servants were humans chemically disposed to being servants. Once in contact with a vampire, the human’s irresistible compulsion was to take the path that led to the full marking.
They’d done some preliminary research and found a general marker, but it seemed to have DNA linkages, suggesting many servants might have that compulsion only with vampires of a certain type of compatible anatomy. Chemical proof of soul mates, in a sense.
Remembering that untested hypothesis, as well as his changed behavior this week, the hopes he was trying to unbury inside her, she found the courage to ask the question.
“My lord…Master…did you…” She wet her lips, looked up at the moon. “When you did…what you did, with Lady Carmela, was it because…”
Did she really want an answer to such a painful question?
He slid his arm beneath her, lifting her into a sitting position to put himself behind her, his thighs bracketing her hips. Banding his arm across her chest, he touched his lips to her ear. “Ask it, Debra.”
His chest was a comforting firm brace behind her. Her hand fell on his thigh, nails digging in as she curled her other fingers over his forearm. “Was it to protect me?”
“It would make me seem noble and self-sacrificing if I said yes, wouldn’t it? You might find it in your heart to forgive me. But you would know that’s not the full truth, and I won’t let a lie stay between us.”
She almost heard her heart crack. She would have done the unthinkable, scrambled away, run back to her room and close the door, but he tightened his arm around her. He wasn’t done with her.
I’ll never be done with you.
She might die from the pain of that. She was starting to understand all too well why some servants took their lives.
In a heartbeat, she was on her back on the blanket again and he was leaning over her, looking more menacing than she’d ever seen him. A quick look around told her they were still alone, that he wasn’t bracing for an attack. Which meant that menace was directed toward her. Her heart skipped a beat as he captured her jaw in a bruising grip. The shadows of the night turned his eyes to storm fire. His fangs had unsheathed.
While Brian suffered from it far less than others, a vampire under the age of a hundred could be goaded to savagery, a loss of impulse control hazardous to everyone within reach. It appeared she had provoked it.
She froze, knowing it wouldn’t save her any more than a hapless field mouse, but she couldn’t have run from him anyway.
I forbid it, Debra. If even the thought of taking your life crosses your mind…
Her eyes w
idened at the terrible look on his face. It mattered to him.
“Of course it matters,” he snarled. “What kind of monster do you think I am?”
When she flinched, he made a visible effort to rein himself back. He sat back on his heels, but straddled her thigh, his other hand braced alongside her hip, keeping her on her back.
She moistened her lips. “Tell me why you did it. Honestly.”
“Except for that night, I’ve always been honest with you. Haven’t I?”
He had. Which was why that night had always held some sense of wrongness, because it felt like he’d lied to her. She’d foolishly clung to the hope Jacob had dangled as to why Brian had done it, but her Master had just taken that slim hope away, denying it was for such a selfless reason. She’d known that anyway. She wasn’t stupid. She just had never been able to figure out the whole of it. But would the truth help or make it worse? She tried to stave off the feeling that the ground was crumbling under her feet.
“He wasn’t entirely wrong. Just not entirely right.” Brian sighed, stroked her jaw, her neck, dropped his touch to the raised curve of one lace-clad breast. Then down even further, trailing along her stomach, a hip bone, the lace of her panties stretched over it. When he slid a fingertip below the edge, she trembled, hating him for being able to make her helpless to his desires when he was tearing her apart inside. His eyes darkened, seeing it, hearing it.
“I am a young vampire,” he said quietly. “Even younger then than I am now. I was fighting for credibility among my own kind, espousing ideas many thought were pointless. Vampires are about politics and power struggles, not about working together to solve problems like fertility and sun vulnerabilities. Or a synthetic blood that might make us less dependent on human blood, just in case someone ever comes up with something even more virulent than the Delilah virus. I’ve always known my desire to research these things weren’t idle curiosity, a personal hobby. Born vampires, the base stock for all vampires, are a terribly endangered species. A fragile one, in some ways.”