Vampire's Embrace: A Vampire Queen Series Novel

by Joey W. Hill

  Taking a seat on their blanket, she packed away his portion of the food and drink to keep them fresh, then picked up her own sandwich. Eating a bite or two was a good cover, helping her take furtive looks through her lashes at the male vampire stripping off his shirt, without looking too obvious about it.

  Unless the vampire in question was in her head and could know everything she intended to do before she did it.

  Alistair stripped socks, shoes and pants, the boxers beneath a dark color that weren’t much different in coverage from the shorts being worn on the field, so he didn’t have to worry that he was exposing himself more than was proper in the public park. After he pulled on the borrowed shorts, socks and shoes, he gathered his clothes, folded them over his arm.

  She was already rising and moving down the hill before he turned. The heat in his gaze as he noticed her coming to tend to him could have melted ice into a puddle, and made her heart beat higher in her chest.

  Her fingers closed over the shirt. When he continued to hold it, it created a tether between them.

  You run from me again tonight, sweet nurse, you’ll learn what really happens when you’re caught.

  She lowered her gaze. I expect that depends if you really can catch me, my lord.

  His dark chuckle was as blatantly sexual as the bar of steel he’d had pressed against her leg moments ago.

  The shorter dark-haired man approached, slapping Alistair on the back. “Can’t imagine my girl moving that swift to be my personal valet, mate,” he teased, shooting her a wink.

  It took her aback some, thinking not only of how it looked, but how instinctively she’d done it. She hadn’t even thought of it. Just that she needed to care for his needs.

  She braced herself for Alistair to pass it off with some typical male retort that would likely hint how his sexual prowess made her eager as a puppy to please. And she’d poison his chicken salad. It wouldn’t kill him, but it might give him some discomfort.

  “I’m a lucky bastard,” he said, surprising her. “And I don’t deserve her.”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  She’d wondered how Alistair played footy without it being obvious he had the advantage in speed and strength. He could have lapped the field five times in the time it took a man to get straight to the goal from center field. But after three hundred years, it was apparently second nature, altering his physical reactions to blend into a human world.

  Beyond that, he was good. Really, incredibly good at the sport, and not because of the vampire advantage. He knew the game well, and had obviously played it as often as Nero had said. If his skills were rusty from disuse, she didn’t see much evidence of it. He drop-kicked the ball with graceful ease and handballed to other players with frightful accuracy. That part might be helped along by the vampire side, she imagined, for his hand-to-eye coordination and reflexes would be formidable.

  She found herself most surprised by how well he worked with his new teammates. He wasn’t a showboat player, trying to steal all the good plays. He handed off quickly and let them get the lion’s share of the payoff.

  When he spoiled the mark of the opposing team, knocking the ball off track, he won cheers not just from his own side, but from her. As he walked back to the center, he glanced up at her, tossing his hair out of his eyes. The cocky smile he sent her made her chuckle at him, wrap her arms around herself at the silly surge of feeling. There was a bit of swagger to his step, no denying it. He liked that she was watching, that he could show off before her. Like any man before his girl.

  Careful, her sense of self-preservation warned her. He’s not any man. He’s a vampire, and you’re his InhServ. Not his girl. Not that way. How many times do you have to hear it?

  Fine. That’ll do, and bugger off, she told that part of her mind. She didn’t need anyone to tell her what her reality was. She was more than aware. But if she could have a few moments of fantasy to make the reality easier to deal with, then so be it.

  But that was the point of the warning, wasn’t it? That sometimes fantasizing made reality harder to accept.

  Bugger. Off.

  The two teams were fairly evenly matched, so as the game progressed, the level of play became more competitive, attracting more spectators. Dog walkers, people who’d finished work shifts, families out for a late stroll after the dinner meal.

  Nina surged to her feet with another cry as the redhead leaped into the air, high enough he shoved his knee against the back of the man trying to block him, using his body to give him the leverage to snatch the ball out of the air. He hit the ground hard and rolled, the ball securely in his arms, and was on his feet, running, the other team in hot pursuit.

  He bounced the ball as was required, then feinted left as another man came in to his right, trying to keep him off course. A shout from Alistair and the red head handballed it with sizzling force. It popped off somewhat high, but Alistair tracked and caught it, when it was just within the right range that his leap to catch it didn’t look otherworldly. He’d kneed up on the cluster of men around him and twisted in the air to come down with the ball tight in his arm. The others threw themselves on him with enthusiasm to keep him down.

  Nina called out derision for them, and encouragement for her vampire and his team. Though logically she knew he couldn’t be hurt, she still watched closely until they unpiled and he emerged. One of them gave him a hand up, slapping Alistair on the back. He smiled at what the man said, laughed.

  He laughed.

  She stopped in mid-clap, her heart in her throat, seeing the flash of teeth from his smile, the transformation of his face. He was handsome, yes. Not the least bit repulsive. But when he laughed…she expected every woman on the sidelines had felt the same jump in pulse she had.

  He had loved this. He did love this. But uneasiness touched her as she remembered what sometimes happened in the moments when she recalled her love and enjoyment of something. Like simple daily living, having toast and tea in the morning, enjoying a sunrise… She could dwell there for a moment or two, but then that sunrise would be rising over the shore, and there were bodies scattered there, lying in the shadows, the crabs…

  She snapped herself away from that fast, but saw a shadow cross Alistair’s face as he watched the man walk away from him. A man who looked somewhat like Charlie. Half of them hadn’t survived, but half had. Had Alistair gone to visit them? She knew Horace had died of complications. But Charlie and Rigby…

  She pushed that away, cheered for him some more, drew his attention. He gave her a half-smile, shook his head at her. Maybe at both of them.

  When the game was called, Alistair’s team was the winning side. Beer was broken out and it looked as if the humans were planning to camp out on the grandstand for a time. She wondered if Alistair would let them stay for a while. She wouldn’t mind.

  She’d begun to fold up the blanket, pretty sure he would, when a man spoke near her.

  “I’d heard he was a good footy player, even if he wasn’t what he is. Though it certainly doesn’t hurt, having that advantage, does it?”

  Startled, she looked to see the male standing a few feet from her blanket, a spectator who’d ostensibly drifted closer to her. He had the thumb of his right hand caught in his pants pocket as he watched the game. Smoking a cigarette, he squinted down the field against the lights. He had a lined face, as if he smoked far too much, and his body, while so spare it could be called bony, had a sinewy quality to it. The eyes he turned to her were a pale grey, like water.

  “Least he’s not shifty enough to try to play pro. Though our lot might like seeing a footy star we know is from our kind, it’s still kind of cheating. Not like seeing the real thing. Someone who’s earned where they end up. Curtis,” he said, giving her a nod. “Lord Donovan’s servant.”

  “Oh.” She glanced toward Alistair. He was involved in conversation with the other men, but she suspected from the sudden tightening sensation in her mind that he was fully cognizant of the new arrival. Which reassured
her. She put on a polite expression and extended a hand. “Nina, though I expect you know that.”

  “I do.” Curtis took her hand and squeezed it, his fingers a whispering caress rather than a formal shake. Before she could draw back, he did, took another drag on the cigarette. “I was a few blocks away, in the neighborhood, and Van told me Alistair was close by. They can sense that kind of thing, even through us. We can too, but not quite at the same range they do. You’re probably not seasoned enough to know that. At the beginning, it’s hard to sort out all the different input. Like a dog given her sense of smell long after being a puppy.”

  “Hmm.” She didn’t rise to the bait. “Did you come to watch, or did you have a message for my Lord Alistair about the upcoming meeting between him and Lord Donovan?”

  “Yeah.” Curtis lifted a shoulder. “Van wants to know if Alistair can come to his place next week for it. Got some territory business pressing in on him, regarding money stuff. Figuring Alistair knows how important that is, and his fancy house needing the blunt, he might be okay with that. Plus, Van has a new skeet shooting setup he wants Ali to try.”

  “Hmm.” Nina bent and retrieved a bottle of beer from the cooler, extended it. “Would you like one?”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” He gave her a wink, drawing closer to the blanket. As they transferred the bottle, his fingers brushed hers in blatant intimacy. “Though I’d much rather drink it off your pretty body.”

  “That’s for our masters to decide,” she said without inflection. “No.”

  “Excuse me?” Curtis lifted a brow.

  Nina reached into the basket. Her eyes were on the contents, but her voice was firm, and after she found what she sought, she rose to her feet to face him. “No, Lord Alistair will not meet Lord Donovan at his house. He may accept the skeet shooting invitation another time, but not for a formal review. The date and time were provided. They were not suggestions, Curtis. Lord Donovan must present himself at that time and date, or answer to Lord Alistair as to why he was not in attendance.”

  “Oh, really? You making decisions for Alistair, now? Think you can do that?”

  Nina’s brow creased. “My Master can speak in my mind. I take my orders directly from him. Do you not do the same with your Master?”

  Curtis’s gaze flickered, a barely concealed flash of irritation. “Ah. So that’s coming from him, then.”

  “The next time you call him familiar, he will segment your tongue so that you have time to think it through before you are that forward again. I expect your Master would prefer to have the use of your tongue.”

  Curtis blinked as she extended a package wrapped in foil. “There. A chicken salad sandwich and biscuits for you, and a sampling of the same for your Master. The bread is particularly fresh, from our cook. Is there anything else?”

  Curtis shook his head. “You’re a delicate-looking lass,” he said, eyes running up and down her body. “You should—”

  Her glance slid past Curtis’s shoulder and he stiffened as Alistair placed a firm hand upon it. “She should what, Curtis?”

  He’d come up on Curtis so suddenly, she wondered if he’d risked some of his preternatural speed to make it happen. Well, they could move faster than the human eye could follow. As long as his conversation with the others had been over, anyone who caught the quick movement would have thought they’d already drunk too much.

  She gave Curtis credit, but then he was an experienced servant. Not by a flicker did he betray that Alistair’s appearance had flustered him. “My lord.”

  “I will see your lord when scheduled,” Alistair said. “Do you have other business here?”

  “Just passing by. I enjoy a good footy match, and some of the blokes at the pub down the street said there was one happening up here in the park.”

  “Game’s over. For now.”

  “Yeah. It is. My lord.” Curtis dipped his head, shot Nina a glance with a half-smile, and then left their company. She noted he didn’t turn his back on Alistair until he was a good twenty paces away, and Alistair made sure he observed the formality, his blue eyes tracking him. Then his attention came back to Nina, and his brow lifted, silent question.

  “My apologies, my lord,” she said. “I know you said none of that in my head. But it felt as if he were trying to seek an advantage in the relationship, and…it felt wrong. The Mistress gave me enough instruction to tell me where the lines are between overlords and Region Masters, and the vampires who report to them.” She lifted a shoulder. “The AANS was an arm of the Army. I recognize the signs of someone bucking and testing chain of command.”

  “So you took it upon yourself to cut him back down to size.”

  “Well, servants take rank from their vampires. Which means I outrank him, and he was being an arse. Not trying to be too subtle about it, either, though I expect he thought he was being clever.”

  “He was testing your cleverness, seeing if you could cross blades with him and hold your own. You did. Unflappably. Well done.”

  Her gaze flicked up to his. He still wasn’t smiling, though. “Have I done something to offend you, my lord?” she asked.

  “No. Unless you gave him the rest of the chicken salad before giving me a bite.”

  She shook her head at him, but when she bent to open the basket, he waved a hand at her. “Let’s head for home. I’ll finish it in my room.” His gaze slid over her. “And you.”

  On the way back to the house, when he wasn’t shifting gears, he had his hand on her thigh. “Keep your knees open, Nina,” he said, his eyes on the road.

  He gave the order, but didn’t touch her between them which just heightened her awareness there. She expected that was the point, and struggled to remember she had an important question for him.

  “Why do Nero and the others protect me on the way to and from the hospital, my lord? Does it have to do with those like Lord Donovan and Curtis?”

  “It does.” His hand tightened on her leg and the look he cast upon her gave her a flutter in her chest. “There are a few vampires in my territory who test me on a regular basis. Giving you a hard time would be a way of poking the bear. I’d rather you not be caught in the middle of an absurd pissing match.”

  He sighed. “I should just rip Donovan’s heart out of his chest at the next overlord meeting and say, ‘Anyone else have a problem with me being Region Master?’”

  “So, what’s stopping you?”

  He slanted her an appreciative glance. “Bloodthirsty woman. The carpet in that room took me a while to find, and blood wouldn’t come out of it easily.”

  “Put down painter’s cloth, then. I’m sure I can scare some up from the maintenance shed, or Nero can.”

  “You don’t like Donovan either, then?”

  “I’ve not met him, so you know I can’t say that one way or another. But I don’t like Curtis. He has a meanness to him, a watchfulness that…bears watching.”

  “So it does.” He turned down the gravel-covered maintenance road, taking it toward the house instead of the main drive. She raised a brow.

  “Are we looking for cloths now?”

  “No.” He smiled as he parked by the maintenance shed. “You just reminded me of something.”

  Coming around and opening the door for her, he drew her out of the car. He took her to the back of the shed. Once there, he moved aside a large wheelbarrow leaning against the wall and then dug his fingers into the grass. She blinked as he lifted what looked like a patch of weeds, to reveal a cleverly-covered trap door. A ladder descended into the earth.

  “The opening is narrow, and left rough to blend, this first part of it, so you may get your clothes dirty. I’ll precede you to guide you down,” he said. “Pull it closed behind you. It’s well tended to ensure it settles right into the ground, leaving no trace of its presence.”

  She already knew his Victorian home was on high enough ground that he could have an underground level for more comfortable daylight sleeping, so it made sense he had a tunnel that
led from that level. An escape route.

  As he fit himself in the hole and disappeared into the dark, she followed. His hands closed on her ankles, helping guide her down the steps, moving to her calves, her thighs, when she pulled the door closed. As he’d described, it settled right back in place, and they were in darkness. Since a third mark could see in the dark functionally well, she saw the walls were earthen in appearance, but when she put her hands on them, she felt the wood framing behind the facade, holding the walls up.

  Then her hands dug into that surface as his fingers slid up her thighs to her buttocks, his thumbs teasing between her legs as he brought her down another couple ladder steps. He pushed up her skirt, and she gasped as he bit her buttock. Not an easy bite, either. His fangs sank into her, holding her in place as his hands wandered over her legs, her arse, then around to her front to play over her clit, her mound, her stomach. She leaned back into his touch, his hold, shifting her own to the ladder steps to hold on against the unsteadying assault.

  Thought you needed a lesson in what happens when you run from a vampire.

  “You didn’t give me a fair lead,” she said shakily, pressing her forehead hard against the slat of wood. “Oh. Oh…”

  “My responsive servant. God, I love your cries.” He brought her down another step, pushing his knee against hers so her foot left the step and she was kneeling on the thin slat instead. It wasn’t comfortable, but he was a master at balancing discomfort with the exact opposite kind of stimulus.

  He snaked an arm around her waist, through the ladder slats, and his body was full against hers, helping to take the pressure off her bones. He’d opened his slacks and she felt his cock at her opening. Her thighs loosened for him and he was pushing into her, a slow, slow glide, the broad head and thick shaft stretching her

  “Didn’t want to wait for a bed, did we?” she managed, and sucked in another gasp as he gripped her throat and pulled back her chin, her head pressed alongside his.