by Joey W. Hill
“You can continue to work here, Nina,” he said. “And…I will stop dangling it above you like a carrot. I cannot guarantee that my world will make it possible for you to do it indefinitely, and if ever you are not safe, I may have to curtail it for short periods, but I will not arbitrarily take it away in a fit of temper or pique. All right? I don’t want you to have to walk on eggshells about it, or fear it will be taken from you from moment to moment. I know how important this is to you.”
He shook his head, corrected himself. “I know how important this is. You do good work and help these lads. You help all your patients. Though Sly might not be thanking you after putting him into interrogation with that young rascal.”
A faint smile touched her lips. Her eyes softened, telling him he was somewhat forgiven, but there was a sadness there, too. “I know I’m not the InhServ you were expecting, Alistair. That you are having to make allowances very few vampires would.”
You are the servant I want. The only one.
He didn’t let her hear that thought, but he did speak. “Vampire relationships with our servants vary. Behind closed doors, it’s very different than one might imagine. You might be surprised at what allowances occur.” He managed a light smile, but then what grew inside him made that smile disappear. He knew that she’d registered it, as well as the hardness to his eyes and tightness around his mouth, the signs of sternness he intended, to put her full attention upon him.
“I have my own caveat to it. You may continue to work here, and offer men like Sly the comfort you did, but every hand you take, every face you stroke, you will keep a tally of it and tell me of the instances whenever I ask. Then I will punish you. You are right in what you do, but I will be right in what I do as well."
Her initial puzzlement gave way to understanding, and the heat that gathered inside her was a direct result of her mind’s acknowledgement of it. She had freedom, but it was backed by the reminder she was his.
She’d stopped there, he realized. Hadn’t added property or servant. It was how she’d described it to Mr. Grant, and not because the other words would have given the human world pause.
As the significance of it gripped them both, he murmured the next words. “Lower your gaze.”
She did, her fingertips on his knee tightening. He slid away from her, only to lock the door and place a crowbar under the knob to slow down someone with a key coming to service the boiler. Not that he anticipated that, since it sounded like it was running as smoothly as one could wish. He unfastened his belt and slacks, opened them and sat down on the chair. Then he put his hand to her jaw, the side of her throat, and exercised a light upward pressure that told her what he wanted. She rose, graceful as always, and he lifted her to straddle his lap. Cupping his hands around her arse, her skirt gathered around her hips, he sheathed himself in that ready wetness, watching her lips part and her pulse thunder up high in her fragile throat, like a tiny bird’s egg.
It was impossibly erotic, doing this to her in her nurse’s uniform, with nothing beneath it to slow him down. She gripped his shoulder for balance, but he captured that hand, kissed it, even as he kept his other hand firmly cupped over her arse, pushing her down on him more deeply. She made a low moan in her throat he treasured.
“I do like how you don’t wear any knickers, even when you’re not around me,” he said low. “Because you want me to know you’re ready for whatever I desire. I think I shall have to let you work some nighttime hours on occasion, so I can surprise you here, just like this.”
He considered her fingers thoughtfully, playing with them. His cock was aching, the muscles in thigh and torso tight, wanting to drive into her, but he made himself wait. “If you’re going to keep working around males like this bastard Grant, I think I shall have to put a more blatant sign of ownership upon you.”
He was aware of how both their bodies vibrated, small movements to destroy concentration. She bit her lip, her pulse rabbiting. Her nipples were pressed against the bra. He wanted to open the dress, cup her breasts and suckle them. He liked watching her come unraveled, lose herself to him. Then he recalled her words.
Do I have to lose myself to have you…
No. She didn’t. But by willingly losing herself in him, in what he could do to her, he knew he was dangerously willing to do anything for her. Which his next words proved.
“In human societies where intimacy between unmarried men and women is met with social condemnation, it is acceptable for vampires and servants to avoid difficulties with certain symbols. Like a wedding ring.”
Her gaze snapped to his. “There is no wedding,” he said quietly, to ensure he didn’t raise her hopes. “Just the acquisition of the certificate. It is to maintain the ruse when needed.”
“Of course,” she said, and she did understand. But the emotions his words had stirred were there for him to feel. She didn’t ask for more details. Instead, she slipped her arms around him, pressing her jaw to his temple. A small sound hitched in her throat. He closed his own arms around her, cursing his stupidity even as he exacerbated it.
“Lady Lyssa’s mother married her servant years ago, to remove any questions. In her case, they did have a wedding ceremony, so there was no issue of disrespect toward her mother, like how Winifred or Mrs. Clyde treated you. Which, if she was anything like Lyssa herself, I suspect would have been highly inadvisable,” he added. “Would you like a wedding ceremony, Nina? It would have to be quiet, something at the house, but if you’d like it, you can have it. Otherwise, it will simply be a matter of paperwork.”
Her arms tightened around him. He could see the answer in her mind, a mixture of things, like her. Hopeful and pretty, quiet and dark, a mixture of joy and grief. He held her, moved inside her, and closed his own eyes, caught in the feel of her, the scent of her. She was his. The InhServ program, the unfortunate death of her sister, had made that an official thing, a feudal contract, as it were. She’d accepted that. But that still hadn’t made her truly his.
She did trust him, though, trusted him with her heart. Which he understood with a depth of humility and terror he hadn’t expected himself capable of anymore.
God help her. God help him to deserve it, and still be everything he had to be in a brutal vampire world.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Nero, I want to stop at the market. Tessa, one of the girls who helps at the hospital, said they had fresh fruit that would be heavenly on that homemade vanilla ice cream Mrs. C made.”
“You’re assuming there’s any left,” Nero said dryly. “After Coleman and the yard boys had at it.”
“She assured me she set some aside for Alistair. I’m thinking he’d like the tangy flavor of fruit on top.”
“Long as he’s good with it,” the man said, giving her a look. “It’s almost dark. The market is closing.”
“Dan is usually there an hour or so after.” When Nero merely shot her a look, she blew out a breath. “Fine.” She put her fingers to either temple and closed her eyes, humming out a breath like a circus medium. “Oh lord and Master, hear me now. Are you out there? Can I stop and get fruit for your ice cream?”
She started a little at the push of response. It made her lips curve. “Of course Nero’s not with me,” she said aloud. She cracked open an eye. “Picking me up is just an excuse to shirk his household duties. He’s off drinking at the pub as usual.”
Nero only lifted a brow, making her chuckle. It will only take a moment, my lord, she added in her mind.
Another push, an approval of sorts. “He’s good with it, as long as I make it quick, which I will. My feet are killing me.”
“I can go in and get them,” Nero offered.
“No, I want to pick them out.”
She wanted to know when Alistair bit into the fruit tonight that it was one she’d chosen.
Nero pulled up to the curb in front of the market. As he exited the vehicle, scoped the area, she waited. Over the past few weeks, as they drew closer to the scheduled meeting
with Donovan, with no signs of trouble from the overlord, she’d begun to feel it was an overabundance of caution. But it was Nero’s job, and she wouldn’t get him into trouble with Alistair by pushing him to relax some of his vigilance. Not that she expected Nero would.
He opened the door and she stepped out. As he followed her toward the maze of market stalls, she couldn’t help teasing him, though. “Are you expecting me to be menaced by stalks of corn. An attack of potatoes?”
“These vendors can be pretty aggressive,” he said, giving her a mock stern look. “Oi, watch it now.”
She yelped as a fleet of children on bicycles descended upon them, shooting out of the alley around a blind corner. They hadn’t seen her or Nero, hence his shout of alarm. She backed into a stall where the displays had been covered in canvas for the night. As Nero had said, most of the market vendors had already closed shop. Dan was further in the recesses, and she retreated a few more feet to get clear. Nero was still in the midst of them, tossing out a few admonishments that made her smile. “Watch where you’re going, you little monsters,” earned replies along the lines of a cheeky, “Watch yourself, old man.”
Except for one little girl’s apologetic wave as her legs pumped, her attempt to keep up with the others. “So sorry,” she called. “He said to go now. So sorry…”
Nero’s eyes narrowed, and his head suddenly snapped up and around, toward Nina. “Nina,” he bellowed. “Run toward me.”
Nina cried out as his words were lost in the roar of an engine. A truck swerved out and around a parked car, striking Nero and sending him flying. He landed hard against one of the covered displays, rolled and thudded down onto the curb, his head smacking against the drain gate.
Even as she shouted his name, she was already on her way to him to help. But she was stopped abruptly by hard hands that seized her by the waist. A cuff alongside her head had her seeing stars.
Her third mark didn’t make her such an easy victim, though. Even through the dizziness, she kicked against the one holding her, wriggled and clawed at the face close behind her head. She was struck again, even as whoever was holding her moved more swiftly than her spinning mind could follow.
Vampire. Only a vampire moved that fast.
Nausea from the concussion of the blows and the rapid movement had her almost losing her lunch, but she managed to hold onto it as she fought. The world passed in a blur, and then she was in darkness. Christ, she was below ground, beneath the streets. She smelled dampness, and then she was tossed into foul, rank water and held there, held under.
She couldn’t drown. She was a third mark. She knew that rationally, but she also knew she had to breathe for her own comfort, and when the heart was pumping so fast, oxygen left the body quickly. Plus, immersing her in water brought back too many things. She’d no time to indulge such nonsense, though. Before those traumatic memories could paralyze her, she grabbed for the image of Alistair, holding her gently in the water, kissing her, stroking her, giving her good memories so she could swim in the waves once more…
She went limp, but the vampire holding her was cleverer than that. He waited her out, waited, waited, until she gave it up and began to thrash, her lungs bursting, her mind screaming at the helplessness. Blood and gunfire, staring eyes, swept everything else away. When she was at the peak of that fear and panic, she was hauled up and thrown on the concrete. And kicked.
She rolled with it, tried to get up, and was punched in the face. Blood spurted from her nose and lip, and she dropped to her knees. Her hand landed on loose brick. She gripped it and, when her hair was seized, her body yanked up, probably to take another blow, she smashed that brick into the slightly bent knee before her.
She used all her third mark strength and her knowledge of anatomy, and got lucky. The howl of pain, the loosening of the hand on her head, let her bolt free.
But she was disoriented, and it was pitch dark. For all she knew, she was running deeper into the tunnels. The vampire could smell her but…
Nina, turn around, run the other way. Ladder to the street about fifteen feet away.
She pivoted and bolted, staggering drunkenly. She was vaguely aware of the vampire trying to get to his feet, a silhouette in the darkness. She banged against the ladder, grappled for the rungs and stumbled up them. She made it three steps and was grabbed around the waist, dragged back down.
She was yanked up against a body that was far bigger than hers. One hand nearly circled her throat and the other wrenched her arm up against her back.
“That…was…rude.” He had a smooth voice, a drawing room aristocrat voice, but she detected some strain from the knee injury. Good. Her vicious satisfaction disappeared into agony as he drove her shoulder up and it dislocated, tearing a scream from her throat.
Then came a widening spiral of confusion as he slammed her forehead against the metal ladder. The edge bit into her face, terrifying her as she shut her eyes, hoping to protect them, but she couldn’t fight with him holding her this way.
Alistair…
Hold on, Nina. Just hold on. I’m coming.
I’ll be… Thoughts were swimming in her head, just swimming, first like darting fish, but they were slowing, drifting. I’ll be in the water. Always in the water, looking for his hand to cut through it, pull her from the depths.
“This is how easy it is, Alistair,” that silky voice said. “How easy it is for me to prove your incompetence. Come get your garbage out of my territory. If you dare.”
The male vampire dropped Nina at the bottom of the ladder. A few hazy moments later, she realized she was alone. Alone with the drip of water off stone and the fetid smell of sewage and her own blood. Her fingers dug into the rock.
Peaches. I was getting you peaches. Alistair…don’t come. No. He wants you to come. Something about what he said, what was it? It worried her. She couldn’t get her mind to work. Hell, she probably had a skull fracture, something that would worry her if she didn’t know that most everything could be healed with Alistair’s blood. But not if he wasn’t there, if he walked into a trap. That mattered more than her getting blood.
She had drifted. She was in the water again. Always in the water. Would she ever find joy in it?
Right now, sweet nurse. It’s a sunny day on my private stretch of beach. You’re floating in the surf, in a swimsuit that shows plenty of bare skin.
I am dying, and you are thinking about sex.
His chuckle in her mind was tight, grim. If you’re dying—which you’re not—what would you be thinking about?
Her lips peeled back from her bloodstained teeth. Killing that bloody bastard.
A flash of violent heat brought vicious satisfaction. She wasn’t alone in that desire. All in good time. First, I was promised peaches and ice cream.
Dan…might not stay open late enough.
A hand clasped hers, a touch moved over her, and then she was being lifted. She cried out, and she was lowered. Hands gripped her shoulder, which made her want to bat them away as pain went from red embers back to lightning.
Tell me you love me.
It was a startling demand, and one that had a simple, puzzled answer. Of course I love you. That’s not the problem, you daft man. You can’t love me back—
She screamed as the bone popped back into place, the dislocation relocated. When her vision cleared, she was still fuzzy, aching, in pain, but Alistair had lifted her. He and someone else were taking her up the ladder. She saw Nero’s face in the darkness and realized full night had fallen. She didn’t know where they were, but it was quiet, just the three of them, so it must be an alley.
“Nero.” She sought him with fluttering fingers and he gripped them gently. “You’re all right.”
“Isn’t a truck big enough to knock me out of it, Miss Nina,” he said grimly. “Not when some blighter goes after you.” His face was worried, his mouth tight and angry as he gazed upon her face, and he spoke low. “Jesus and Mary.”
“Put her in the back.” Alist
air’s voice. “Fuck. Now, Nero. Get her out of here.”
She could hear other voices, whistles and catcalls. Taunts. Danger was rife and sharp. “Alistair, no.”
But Nero was putting her in the car and slamming the door. She tried to struggle up, tried to see where her vampire master was, but the car was in gear and plunging forward. “Alistair… Alistair.”
Alistair watched the car make the turn around the corner and then pivoted. He said nothing. Merely kept his watchful eyes on the network of fire escape ladders lining the abandoned brick buildings that flanked the alley. Four were hiding in those shadows. He knew all the vampires in Donovan’s territory. Donovan was not here with them, but he’d be somewhere, watching.
“Prime reason I’m Region Master and you’re not,” Alistair said clearly. “I do my own dirty work.”
“He sullied his hands with your servant, sure enough,” one of the hidden vampires drawled. “If you’d left him more time, could have done more. Fast, speedy car. We’ll take that when we’re done with you.”
Alistair laughed, his fangs flashing. “Come and try, then.”
They came out of the gloom. Three males, one female, varying ages, all younger than him. Donovan was testing. That was fine. Alistair had his own tests.
“I’m your Region Master, mates. You attack me, you earn a death sentence, whether you reap it in this alley, or I decide to take it later.”
“We kill you, Donovan gets to be Region Master.”
The sorry thing was, they were likely right about that. Donovan would have some smooth explanation for why Alistair was too weak to hold the Region, and had got himself killed, and it was best if the Region Master post went back to a born vampire, blah blah blah. The European-based Council would accept it, because who gave a shit about Australia? Even if Lyssa came to his defense, a posthumous defense wouldn’t really change the outcome.