Vampire's Embrace: A Vampire Queen Series Novel

by Joey W. Hill

  His lips twisted grimly, thinking of Stanley. Well, that was his specialty, wasn’t it?

  In the aftermath of their terrible argument on the driveway, a great deal of his evening was spent thinking about how to solve the problem.

  He wouldn’t let her go. He couldn’t make himself believe she’d be better off in the InhServ program, going to another Master. So, a new strategy. That was the past. This was the future.

  His initial reaction to her defiance had been that he had to force her to face her reality in the ways The Mistress had recommended. But he hadn’t followed her, made her kneel on the foyer naked, used physical force to bend her to his will, or even seduction. Because he’d been about to employ those tools for all the wrong reasons. Anger, jealousy, helpless rage that she couldn’t give him back that connection he wanted with her, even though none of it was her fault.

  He hadn’t anticipated her ability to twist a knife in some raw wounds he carried, and Nero, damn the man’s interference, had nevertheless helped him maintain the control so vital to the vampire-servant relationship.

  So instead, he’d stood out there for long minutes in the dark night, her accusing eyes and words filling his mind.

  What the bloody hell have you done to deserve that kind of devotion?

  Not a bloody thing. In his world, that didn’t matter. Humans served, and vampires took. They took from one another as well, from those weaker than themselves, though he seemed to be gathering quite the menagerie of misfits, like Stanley.

  But in their taking, they gave something the humans they chose craved, needed. It was a synergistic relationship, and a vampire knew that. They had the immortality and years to know how to light that path, bring a human through it.

  When he finally went into the house, he shut it all off, and tackled the evening’s business. He was being overwhelmed by paperwork, phone calls, household matters, things a servant should be doing. He’d intended to stay away longer, travel farther, arrange more meets with his overlords and the vampires beneath them, but he knew the problems of being seen without a servant. It didn’t help that word had been passed as swiftly as a conga line of gossiping washer women that he now had an InhServ.

  But that wasn’t why he’d returned tonight. He’d come back because of what he’d seen in her mind at the hospital. He’d needed to put his hands on her, ensure she was safe, and his.

  All of it went together; The Mistress’s emphatic advice, Nina’s confusion, his reaction and expectations… He had a thirty-day grace period, not to decide whether to return her, like a defective piece of merchandise, but to see if he could sort out how to make this work, for both of them.

  Tonight, he would leave her alone, block her thoughts from his mind. There was no point to hearing over and over how much he wasn’t what she wanted. Maybe there was some way to let her have a few hours a week at her bloody hospital.

  When he finally went to bed at dawn, he was irritable, annoyed and sexually frustrated. He might be able to block her thoughts, but not his awareness that there was a female in the house who was his to do with as he wished. He had the skills to seduce, to make her willing, to crack open that submissive side that was such a treasure trove to a Dominant, and a vampire was the extreme end of that sexual orientation. Denying himself was likely to make him all the more demanding later, and wasn’t that an unhelpful thought that only spurred him to greater need?

  But since he hadn’t become a total bastard, he told himself to start fresh the next dusk. Give them both time to cool down.

  Her words followed him into sleep, however. Deserve… Didn’t bother to come to her funeral. Sherry Evelyn Smithfield. Sherry Evelyn Smithfield. He wanted to think about it, but his mind kept moving over to what he really wanted to think about. Nina Hopeward Smithfield. He knew her middle name, had remembered it when he was told the sister…Sherry, had died.

  He’d had countless letters from and reports on Sherry over the years, but it was Nina he remembered everything about. Kneeling in the boat and leaning against his leg as he paddled silently through the night toward the beach, his senses straining for any evidence of Japanese patrols. Falling asleep in the plane, head nodding, tendrils of hair dancing wildly along her nape.

  He wanted to reach out to her. He could. He could talk to her and encourage her to talk back to him. Mind to mind.

  No, not her mind. Her heart. Because in truth, he didn’t have to have the third mark to listen to a person’s heart. Humans did it all the time.

  That was the key, he realized. Use the second mark like a courtship tool of times past, letters, phone calls. It was a way he could perhaps give her more breathing room, rather than being in a proximity where his sexual desires would make him ignore the need to take it slow, hear what her heart—and mind—were truly saying to him.

  Fortified by the feeling he was on the right path and hadn’t completely mucked this up beyond repair, he was finally able to drop off into a few hours’ sleep. But the impetus stayed with him, such that immediately upon waking, he reached out, seeking her, wanting to act on the idea immediately.

  And discovered she’d left hours before, with no intention of ever coming back.

  If she’d followed her preferences, she would have simply returned to the hospital, told Tracy she’d like a job and asked if there was a flat she could share with someone until her first paycheck, when she could find more permanent accommodations if needed. But if she did something that close, Alistair would find it necessary to come and retrieve her. Whether it was wobbly thinking or not, she hoped if she got on a train and took it much farther away, maybe he’d simply tell The Mistress she’d abandoned her duty to her family.

  If a promised InhServ candidate refuses, the family’s loyalty to the vampire world must be questioned, as to whether the existence of vampires is a secret that will be safe with them anymore. If the Council deems it is not…

  But she’d been delivered as promised. Surely that meant her family would be considered innocent if she’d cut and run…afterward. No fault of theirs. Maybe. Their three centuries of loyalty surely would be taken into consideration. Right? And her brother, like Sher, would be more than willing to step into her place. That would be a balm on it, too.

  She’d thought to protect Jim from it, but knowing he understood this in a way she didn’t, never would, combined with her desperation, was making her rationalize her need to protect him. Even as she was pretty sure she was wrong and the guilt of that could crush her if she thought of it too much. She just couldn’t go back. She couldn’t.

  You don’t decide your crimes, Nina. I do.

  The way he’d said that had made her shiver. His compulsion to come find her might not be the only reason she thought it wise to put distance between them.

  She refused to think about it more. That day on the beach, she’d survived a machine gun and the worse possible face of humanity she could have ever imagined. Since then, there had been times she’d gone numb so she didn’t have to feel anything. She’d gotten better at it than she’d realized. She could shut it all down. It wasn’t so hard, really. She’d been the only one in the family who hadn’t accepted the situation. Her brother would be fine if he had to serve. Better at accepting it than her, at least.

  They wouldn’t kill her family. They wouldn’t. She refused to believe that.

  She was headed for Sydney. It was a good distance from Brisbane and Alistair’s beautiful Victorian home outside it. There’d still be a position for her at the hospital there. They’d been sorry to see her go and had assured her she’d always be welcome.

  When she’d accompanied Mrs. C to the market, Nero had given Nina an unexpectedly generous amount of money. Not his money for his daughter’s gifts, which was a separate handful of folded bills. Money from Alistair for items Nina might want or need. That generous allowance was probably part of what had inspired Mrs. C’s unpleasant comments. And he’d never asked for it back. She would mail it back when she was able to repay it.


  Hours passed on the train, yet she was barely aware of the passage of time. She dozed, she watched the scenery pass by. She paid for her meals and beverages, sat alone in the dining car. Discouraged any conversation, though at one time she’d been the type of cheerful person who’d be interested in her travel companions. Now she wouldn’t have been able to remember any of their faces if her life depended on it.

  You’re all right. You know what you are doing.

  She frowned as she thought that. It was familiar. Too familiar. Not her voice. As she searched her memory, she returned to the construction site, the dust, the cries of the men. Her triage. The momentary panic when she realized the enormity of it, that she had no support staff on scene, that it was all on her, and she would likely not be fast enough or have the resources to prevent more lives being lost. Her nerves had quaked, her stomach had heaved, and then that quiet reassurance had filled her, steadied her.

  It had been a male voice. A male energy. Alistair. It had been him. The same male who’d ordered her to kneel in the foyer…naked. Like everything that had just happened hadn’t mattered. Like she didn’t matter, except as an orifice for his lust.

  It did matter, and so do you. I didn’t handle that situation well, Nina.

  She started, her fingers clutching her travel bag. Though she knew he was far away, reflexes still had her looking around her. She saw only the people with whom she’d shared coach accommodations these last many hours. It was dark now, lamps providing some illumination. Most passengers were asleep, nodding in their seats.

  You had enough to pay for a private berth.

  Not if I want to make the money last. Get myself set up in Sydney. No use not saying it straight out. He could read it from her mind. But he proceeded as if she hadn’t said anything about striking out on her own.

  I didn’t handle it well, because I brought you into my household thinking we’d simply connect the way we did three years ago. That those memories would help us over the hurdle of both having to be something entirely different.

  She blinked. That was entirely daft thinking.

  A sense of a chuckle, far too sensuous, drifted through her. Warmed her. Yeah, it was. But I’ve since had another thought. Maybe a better one.

  Hard to imagine a worse one.

  You underestimate my ability to bollocks-up a situation to previously unimaginable depths, my sweet nurse.

  Her lips twitched despite herself. She rubbed her forehead. “Oh, Alistair,” she murmured.

  A sudden stillness. Do that again. Say my name like that.

  She shook her head, but her cheeks flushed. What was your thought?

  I’m thinking we sort it out. Slow it down. Away from watching eyes. Just you and me. The way it began.

  The train was slowing for the next stop. For those who were awake, there’d be the chance to step out into the fresh air, stretch their legs a few moments. She doubted any women traveling alone would be doing that at a dimly lit though seemingly clean outpost. But she would be one of them.

  Because Alistair stood in the circle of the thrown light of one of the station lamps. His hands were tucked in the pockets of his overcoat, the collar turned up against the nighttime chill, so his dark hair brushed against the fabric. Those intense eyes passed over the cars, as purposed in direction as water in a current, and locked onto not only her car, but her very window. He didn’t lift a hand in greeting, but he dipped his head.

  Come to me, Nina.

  He didn’t sound angry or frustrated, as he had during their fight. Nor conciliatory or apologetic, at least not in an ingratiating way. He had the upper hand here, and yet he didn’t sound smug or patronizing, either. Like most things about him, he was coming from a perspective she didn’t necessarily fathom. But despite everything else, when it was just the two of them, he could draw her to him with a simple command. It confused her, miserably.

  I’d like for it to confuse you a less miserable way. Do I need to repeat myself?

  A little jump in her lower extremities was the answer to that, another annoyingly involuntary reaction she had when he used that tone. But she shouldered her bag and made her way to the car’s exit door. By the time she reached it, he was there. As the porter opened the door for her, Alistair reached up. She put her hand into his sure grip, and he drew her down to the bottom step, where they were closer to eye level to one another.

  “The lady will not be continuing with this train,” Alistair told the porter.

  “She’s your wife, then?” The porter said, seemingly talking to Alistair, but really to her. Making sure this was what she wanted. That Alistair was telling the truth. He was a good chap, protecting his female passengers traveling alone.

  Alistair looked at her, his fingers tightening. “She’s mine,” he said quietly. “I’m a fortunate man.”

  The porter chuckled. “That’s the right way of it for any man who gets himself a good woman.” He tipped his hat to Nina. “Marm.”

  She managed a nod, and Alistair slipped an arm around her waist, bringing her down to the ground. She could have stepped down, but he’d done it so smoothly, she’d no time to assert herself about it. And he let her slide down him intimately.

  You can fog my head with your seduction, my lord. It changes little.

  You mistake why I want to touch you, Nina. I woke up to find you gone, and have traveled far and fast to get to you here.

  Can vampires fly like bats, then?

  “I can fly, yes.” The skin around his eyes crinkled far too attractively. “But with no wings of my own, I use my plane’s. Pilot. Remember?”

  He’d drawn them away from the train, under the shelter of one of the wooden buildings. It was just the two of them. She heard frogs warbling and bugs chirping. He had her hands in his. He smelled good, like his soap and clean linen. His hair had been raked back with his fingers, so it was tousled, maybe from agitation, or tidying it after taking off the helmet he would have worn while flying.

  “Just the two of us,” he said quietly, repeating her thoughts. “For the next little bit, that’s all there is. All right? Let’s leave the rest, for now.” Dropping his hold on her, he took a step back, and extended a hand. “If Stanley hadn’t been there, this is what I would have said. Welcome to my home, Nina. You’re very welcome here. I’m glad to see you again, more than I can say. I’ve thought a lot about you, these past three years. Have you thought about me?”

  She was going to say, you can tell, you can read it from my mind, but gazing up at him, she couldn’t find the tartness to summon the words.

  Slowly, she put her hand in his. “I have, Alistair. Every day. Some days it was the only thought I had that made me feel less alone in the world.”

  Which is why I honestly can’t bear you becoming one of the things that make me feel even more lonely.

  His fingers tightened on hers, his expression registering both the words and the thought. He drew her closer, his other hand coming up to cradle her jaw, tip her chin, so when he bent, his mouth found hers. The kiss wasn’t hard and demanding, but it commanded her all the same, her heart fluttering up into her throat, her fingers closing on his wrist.

  Yes. This was what she’d remembered. She wasn’t a fanciful girl, unable to separate the illusion of physical response with true emotion, but with him, it was one and the same. If it had been the memory alone that maintained the connection between them, this spark wouldn’t burn so fierce still. This kiss would be a pleasant nostalgia, not this. Not something that flooded three years’ worth of need and thoughts into the gesture.

  Her nails dug into his wrist as things spiraled up from the soles of her feet, through her thighs and into her lower body, getting tighter, more concentrated. His lips moved on hers, her mouth opening to him so his tongue swept in, teasing and tangling. She made a little moan in the back of her throat, which he answered with a quiet noise of his own, part soothing note, part male growl of approval.

  When he broke the kiss, he tucked her hand into the croo
k of his elbow, his other arm sliding around her waist, keeping her securely in the shelter of his body. “I want to show you something you’ll like. It’s only a short distance.”

  “Alistair…”

  “There it is again.” He stopped her, dropped to one knee, startling her, especially when his hands dug into her hips with hard purpose, his eyes piercing, demanding. “Say my name again, Nina. Look down at me and say it.”

  She swallowed. She understood now. Staring into his eyes, his hands upon her, her own resting on his shoulders, the word was a connection that couldn’t be denied, because she couldn’t keep her emotions out of it. Couldn’t deny what even she heard in it when she said it aloud. She wanted to say no, knew she needed to resist that dark magic, but then he made it impossible to deny him.

  “Please.”

  “Didn’t know vampires knew that word.” She gave a desperate half-laugh, her hands clutching him in a jerk of reaction.

  “Nina. Sweet nurse.” His voice dropped low. “Say it.”

  “Alistair,” she said. “Alistair.”

  Something tense left his expression, replaced by something no less significant. He dropped his head, resting his forehead on her midriff, against her breasts, his breath on her lower abdomen. She slid her arms around his shoulders, fingers through his thick hair, tightening.

  The way you say my name. It’s the first time in a very long time that I’ve felt something like…what I feel when you say it.

  It was a bit of nonsense that didn’t clarify anything, and yet she understood it. With despair, she realized she might be able to fight the whole bloody vampire world, and even her own world, but she couldn’t fight her own self. At least not tonight. If he was giving her tonight, just the two of them, she would deny herself nothing.