by Joey W. Hill
Surrendering all to a Master...
It was as if he were in an elevator that dropped suddenly, jolting his eyes open. He knew it was broad daylight, early afternoon, a time he wouldn’t normally wake unless something had disturbed him. Mariela's scent was upon him and his sheets, as well as that of the coupling they'd shared. A desolate emptiness swept through him. He pushed up, logy, his mind spinning. He couldn't figure out what was going on, where he was, what...why did things feel upside down?
"Easy." Keldwyn's voice was against his ear, part of his dream. "Lie back down, my lord. Your servant is with Lord Brian. I suspect the procedure is complete and that's why you are feeling so out of sorts."
"Brian said...easier for vampire. She should be disoriented. Not me. Why am I..."
"You know why. It's all right. I'm here. Just lie back down with me. We'll talk chess. I still think you cheated last time."
"We play chess."
"Of course, my lord. Several times a week." Keldwyn was somehow easing him back down onto the sheets. He had his arm over Uthe's chest, was coiled up behind him. He never slept naked, always in lounging pants and a shirt, with the candle burning on the dresser. A Templar slept in his breeches and shirt, and kept a light on through the night.
He’d fallen asleep in the dark, without clothing, for Mariela. The sheets were tangled over Uthe so he felt the press of the other male’s thighs against the back of his own through the cloth, but the heat of his body came through the thin fabric. He wasn't alone. Even though something was missing in his mind, far too many things, he wasn't alone. That was the most important thing right now. Uthe wrapped his fingers over Keldwyn's forearm. He was wearing one of those laced shirts, and Uthe plucked at it, irritated at not being able to get past the cloth to the flesh. He tugged harder.
"Hold on. Don't rip it." Keldwyn lifted away from him, shifting in a way that told Uthe he was stripping off the offending garment. "Here, let's do this."
Uthe flinched as the shirt, folded into a thick strip, was wrapped around his eyes. He put up his hand to stop him, but Keldwyn tapped his knee against Uthe’s tense ass. "It will help. Closes out a sense you don't need right now and reduces input."
Uthe thought he was wrong about that. Keldwyn's scent, captured in the fibers so close to Uthe’s nose, increased other stimuli considerably. Somewhere in his fuzzy mind, he remembered not to pull Keldwyn’s wrist to his mouth to bite the male, but it was a close thing. He gripped Keldwyn's forearm, banded across his chest once more. The straight lines of bone to the wrist were layered with prominent veins and sleek muscle, evidence of a male warrior who worked out with weapons. There was a light layer of hair over the firm flesh.
Keldwyn moved the sheets out of the way. Since he was wearing those tight, thin leggings he favored, when he brought his legs up to cradle Uthe's ass again, what pressed against his buttocks was unmistakably a generous-sized cock.
Though he’d had a strong sexual reaction to the male for some time, the response Uthe had now was deeper and even more intense. Keldwyn’s contact wasn’t a message about sex alone. It was about want, connection. Impending possession.
It was best just to sleep. He took deep, slow breaths, because the act was rhythmic and helpful. He kept his fingers latched over Keldwyn's forearm, and the male stroked his hair, his shoulder, his side. He was curled up naked in the shelter of the Fae’s body. Uthe recognized it as a vulnerable position, but he felt better, stronger, with Keldwyn's heat against his back. Reaching back and up, he found some of his hair. Since the Fae male had so much of it, it wasn’t a difficult task. Uthe pulled some forward over his shoulder like a cloak, those few strands bringing him as much warmth as a blanket.
"Sleep, my lord," Keldwyn said, and this time Uthe heard sadness and regret. They all had those, though. It was impossible to live as long as they did without them. His own deepest regrets had happened within the first fifty years of his existence. Would regret disappear when awareness did? Why was Keldwyn sad?
With a sigh, Uthe let it go and allowed sleep to pull him down again.
Chapter Five
When he woke, he was alone. There was no lingering scent of Keldwyn, no evidence he’d been there. Just Mariela’s scent, a couple long threads of her blond hair. So the Fae’s presence had been part of the same unsettling dreams. Telling himself that was a good thing, Uthe put his feet on the floor. He still had that emptiness, the initial effect of no longer having a servant connected to him, but the heavy disorientation, if it had existed outside his dreams, was gone. He picked up the in-house phone, dialed. Debra picked up. "How is she?" he asked.
"Lord Uthe." Fortunately Lord Brian’s servant recognized the location of his phone, since he'd neglected to identify himself, and his throat was still froggy from the twilight rising. "She is doing well,” Debra said. “Better than usual. She said you fed her before the procedure?"
Had he? He must have. Yes. That was right, he’d said he was going to do that. "Yes, I did."
"Interesting. The few of these we've done so far have involved vampires and servants less kindly disposed toward one another, so we hadn’t considered having the servant feed from the vampire before the procedure. That may make the transition even easier for others in the future."
"Good. Is she...is someone checking on her?"
"Yes, my lord. She left the infirmary about a half hour ago and returned to her quarters, where she's been ordered to rest for a few more hours. The InhServs and novices-in-training are handling her with great compassion and respect. Lord Brian made sure they knew your praise for her, as you requested. I expect you'll see her back at her normal duties within another day.” Debra hesitated. “By that, I mean whatever work she's given while she's waiting to be assigned to another vampire. Did you need her?"
Probably more than he'd expected. The unusual progression of emotions he'd experienced only a few hours before swamped him again, but he cleared his throat. "No. I just wanted to check on her. Thank you, Debra."
He hung up before she could say more. He needed a shower to clear his head, and he needed to pack for his departure. He’d no idea if Keldwyn would obtain Rhoswen’s permission to allow Uthe entry into the Fae world, but he had another task to complete before that could happen. He’d handle his own travel arrangements, because no one could be privy to his whereabouts once he left Savannah. Once he entered the Fae world, that wouldn't be a problem, due to the difference between the timelines and realities of the Fae world, but until then, he would take all necessary precautions to cover his tracks.
After showering, he donned casual clothes he rarely wore when at Council headquarters, an undyed cotton shirt over black jeans. After packing his few belongings in the chest, he sat down to finalize some correspondence. He didn’t want to leave any Council business assigned to him incomplete, but for those things he couldn’t finish himself he provided Lyssa enough information to assist whoever had to pick up the baton.
It took longer than expected, but his confidence came back to him as the pen flowed and he recalled without effort all the necessary details for each situation. As he made his notes, he accumulated a neat stack of directions and information at his elbow. Though he knew how to use a computer, he didn’t trust their security. He’d often recommended that Council members hand write and code anything they didn’t want to fall into the wrong hands. An encrypted hardcopy was the safest way to transmit information. It was how the Templars had protected the pilgrims’ funds. Those coded and complicated systems still existed in some forms in the Swiss banking system. When the Order was destroyed in 1307, a contingent of Templars had made it over the Alps and helped the Swiss fight for their freedom. As a result, most of the funds he’d accumulated over the years were banked with the Swiss.
He couldn’t observe the vow of poverty, because he had to fund the responsibilities under his guardianship, the things that were guiding his departure now. However, he adhered to its spirit as much as possible. He’d used the funds to help those
who needed his help, and to take care of his basic needs, so he wouldn’t be a burden on others. The Rule stated if a brother died with money upon him that was not in trust to him for Templar business, then he should not be buried in consecrated ground, that his brothers didn’t have to pray for him. That his body could be treated as a slave’s and thrown to the dogs. Forgotten.
“My lord? May I enter?”
Uthe looked up from his desk. Mariela was standing in his open doorway, her eyes on the travel chest, which he’d pulled to the center of the floor. It was still open, his small cluster of belongings from the closet stacked on the top.
"Of course." He rose, closed the chest and met her at the door. As he drew her over the threshold, he gave her an assessing look. She did look strong and healthy, if a little pale. "I hope Lord Brian's process didn't cause you excessive discomfort."
"No, my lord." She pressed her lips together before she could say Not that kind. He didn't have to hear it in her mind to read it from her face, but then he'd always been exceptionally good at reading body language and facial expressions. Since there was nothing he could do to ease that pain, he gestured her into a chair before taking a seat at his desk and waiting to hear what she needed. She would not have come to him without specific purpose.
She sat quietly, collecting her thoughts, then she lifted her head. “It is new, this separation of vampire and servant while they both still live. A few months ago, there was a servant who was in Lord Brian’s facility for several days for the same thing. I tended her afterwards, because helping in the infirmary is something else the InhServs do. She was not at ease until her vampire had departed. Though the separation was something they both desired, she said the loss of his presence inside her was like a wound. She could not bear to see or speak to him knowing…he could no longer hear her or her him, inside. I understand what she meant now.”
“I’m sorry, Mariela.”
She looked startled. Absurdly enough, apologizing to a human was considered a breech in vampire etiquette, part of the rigid social structure they maintained. In times past, a vampire who desired to sever a third mark bond did so by killing the human. It was considered a regrettable but acceptable decision to protect the secrets of vampire kind.
He looked at Mariela’s straight and strong posture, her serious brown eyes. Those surface features hid so much more that he knew about her. He could no more take Mariela’s life than he could lift a hand to Lady Lyssa, or any other woman he valued.
She firmed her chin, lifted it. “I am at the service of the Council, and of you, my lord. Even if I am no longer your servant, you have never done anything that made me wish I was not yours. I do not want to take up your time when you are preparing to leave, but for some time, there has been something I wanted to give you. Or to do for you. I thought you might feel it was inappropriate.”
“Mariela, I think I would do something inappropriate long before you did.” When he reached out, touched her face, he was glad to see an easier look upon it. Mariela loved him, he knew that, but that love was inseparable from her InhServ training. It was why their bond had worked so well. She would love her next Master, as long as he was deserving of her service, and Lyssa would make sure of that.
“What is it you wish to do?”
She hesitated again. “It is very difficult to put into words, my lord.” She left unsaid that she would normally have placed the image in his mind, making the communication easier for them both.
“Well then.” He lifted a shoulder. “How about you do whatever it is you intended to do, and I will trust myself to your hands.”
She flushed at that, a becoming reaction. She rose. “Um…I’d like to stand behind you.”
When he nodded, she approached his chair, circled behind him and laid her hands on his shoulders. Realizing he’d never expected to feel her firm and female touch again increased its potency.
“If I can ask the gift of your trust, would you close your eyes, my lord? I know this is very unusual, but it is truly easier to do it than to explain it.”
She’d certainly stirred his curiosity. Keldwyn might call him foolish, trusting a woman he’d essentially scorned, exposing chest and throat to her retribution. But while Mariela, like most InhServs, was trained in a variety of fighting techniques, she had no capability for such violence in her. Not against him. He did trust her.
He closed his eyes, and she moved her hands to the sides of his throat, behind his ears, fingers gliding along his close-cropped hair. Drawing a breath, she started to hum, working her hands slowly over his skull, to his nape, around to his shoulders, then back, a slow, rubbing cycle of comfort, more caress than massage, but equally soothing and pleasant.
It wasn’t her skilled hands that stilled him, though. It was that song, and her voice. It lulled him, wound around his heart, offering comfort and pain together. As that reaction swelled within him, he caught Mariela’s wrist, his grip tight enough she flinched. He immediately eased his hold, but he brought her around to face him, still holding onto her. He didn’t ask, though he knew the intensity of his gaze demanded the explanation.
She bowed her head. “I have come into your room just before you wake many nights, my lord. You have a dream, often enough I’ve noted it, especially of late. You hum this tune, and you are moving your hands…” She paused, kneeling between his spread knees. He let her go so that she could finish the motion, running her hands just above her own stomach in slow, methodic circles, as she’d done it to his head and shoulders.
“Like a pregnant woman.” She gave him a searching glance. “It seems to soothe you, bring you peace. I deduced it was a memory from being in your mother’s womb, so when I was stroking your head and shoulders, I was thinking of when she did it.” She colored again, as if realizing anew how outrageous a conversation this was to be having with a Council member, and a vampire it was clear she still considered her Master.
“It was…unexpected, but welcome,” he said gravely. “It is a lovely gift. Your singing voice has improved since the Christmas carols the servants performed for us last year.”
She offered him a small smile. “I’ve been working with Lady Helga. She said a girl as pretty as I am shouldn’t sing like a braying mule. She’s been giving me voice lessons.”
Uthe sighed. “Helga, the epitome of tact.”
Mariela offered a diplomatically noncommittal noise, but fished a slim, digital recorder out of the neckline of her blouse. As she laid it in his hand, he absorbed the warmth of her body through it.
“I recorded the song, hummed it over and over. I didn’t know if you remember it when you wake, but I thought it might bring you peace and memory during your waking hours. If you’ll forgive my presumption, I thought it would also give you something of me to have with you, if that would be of value.”
“Ah, Mariela.” He set the recorder aside, and lifted her to her feet. He saw the lovely touch of surprise in her face again as he drew her close. Then he was holding her against him, her arms wrapped around his shoulders, head bent over his, her blonde hair curtaining him. He pressed a kiss between her breasts, inhaling that sweet heat. “You are a treasure, my dearest. Should I return and find anyone has undervalued you, I will rip his or her unworthy heart out, toss it before Council and demand they give you a proper vampire.”
Mindful of the need not to make this more painful to either of them, he eased her back. As he looked away from her to give her a few seconds to compose herself, he discovered someone else in his doorway. Keldwyn leaned against the frame, waiting on them. Uthe wondered when the Fae had arrived and how much he’d heard. “I bring news from Queen Rhoswen,” he said.
Mariela stepped back, her normal expression in place, his faithful InhServ. But no longer his, he reminded himself. “My lord, do you have further need of me?”
No was the right answer to the question. However, under the circumstances, it seemed harsh to say it that way. “Thank you, Mariela,” he said instead, gesturing to the recorder. She
offered him one more faint smile and a glimpse of her sad brown eyes before she turned.
He expected her to move past Keldwyn with her usual brief but respectful acknowledgment to the Fae. Instead she stopped and looked directly at him. She never met the Fae Lord’s eyes, always deferring to him as she did other vampires. The expression on her face wasn’t deference. It concerned Uthe enough he rose from the chair. “Mariela,” he said, a low tone of warning.
Keldwyn had not moved, though a thrum of tension vibrated from him. It was what had brought Uthe out of the chair. She looked back at Uthe.
“My lord, what you said about being undervalued? Should I have the means and strength, I would do the same to any who treated you badly.”
Keldwyn’s brow lifted. The Fae and Uthe’s former servant held locked gazes for a protracted blink, then Keldwyn spoke. “Close the door when you leave, Mariela,” he said in an even tone.
It was a direct order. If Uthe didn’t countermand it, she was required to obey. Her jaw firmed, but she looked Uthe’s way. He nodded, not unkind, but firm.
She bowed to him as Keldwyn shifted away from the frame, taking several steps in the room. Mariela left them, the door closing silently behind her.
Queen Rhoswen and her party had departed after the ball and a short, private visit between the two queens, but tonight Keldwyn was dressed more as Uthe would have expected during the Queen’s visit. His swallow-tailed coat was a deep green velvet, over another ruffled, laced shirt in the golds of summer. His hair had several slim braids overlaying the loose weight of the rest. The braids were woven with gold ribbon, and the shell of one of his pointed ears was lined with copper rings. A leaf pattern was imprinted on his right cheek and brow, a colorful tattoo that surrounded the right eye and made it somehow more piercing, looking at Uthe from among that camouflage.
“If that woman wasn’t human, she might be mildly unsettling,” Keldwyn said.