Vampire's Embrace: A Vampire Queen Series Novel

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Vampire's Embrace: A Vampire Queen Series Novel Page 51

by Joey W. Hill


  It was a good thing he didn’t plan to die or relinquish his role as Region Master. The title he’d taken on reluctantly was a surprisingly good fit at the moment, with cold rage pumping through him. But he knew against whom it should all be directed.

  “You decide not to do this, the repercussions won’t be as serious against you. You do it, at least one of you won’t leave this alley alive, and the other three will wish they’d done anything else tonight rather than serve their overlord’s futile political agenda.”

  The one who leaped first was another big son-of-a-bitch, big like Donovan, but not as old and experienced. But he didn’t come alone, two more coming with them. Fine then. If it was a fight they wanted, a fight they’d have. He pictured Nina’s bleeding, ripped face, felt the pain she’d suffered as he popped the bone back in, and had all the fuel he needed.

  He’d said one would die, because there really weren’t enough vampires in Australia to carelessly sacrifice more than was needed for the lesson. But holding back was going to take some effort. He wanted to murder every one of them.

  He’d throw Donovan’s body on the top of the heap and watch them all burn.

  Nina struggled up out of darkness with a cry, and then realized she was against Alistair. Lying in his bed, his arm around her. She breathed, evening out her heart rate, pressing her forehead against his bare chest. He wore loose lounge pants on his lower body and, as she settled back against him, she nestled her feet against his. Hers were cold and his weren’t.

  “Bad dream,” she muttered. “And—”

  She sat bolt upright and winced, her hands going to her face and finding bandages there. Alistair’s touch was upon her fingers, drawing them gently away.

  “The vampire…Nero…”

  “It’s all right,” he told her firmly, drawing her back down. “It’s sorted for now.”

  Her shoulder was sore, but not nearly as much as she would have expected it to be.

  “Third mark healing abilities. Even without my blood, it kicks in faster than for a mortal. When you take some of my blood, the cuts on your face will heal up, leaving you as lovely as ever.”

  She was getting her wits about her, remembering. Which made her look closer at him. He was lying against his bent arm, his other hand stroking her lightly from shoulder to hip and back again. He looked like Alistair, only more tired. Paler. She noted then that, while he had no open wounds, there were marks upon him, like healing scars.

  “The young ones Donovan sent after me got in a few good shots here and there. I’ll be glad to train up the ones who survived as allies.” At her expression, he added, “Here you thought putting up with me was the worst part of being a vampire’s servant. I suppose no one mentioned to you the politics.”

  “I guess they assumed I had enough to handle, the whole sex slave deal, and how to set up a twelve-person dinner.”

  Alistair shuddered. “That last would make me prefer the politics. Maybe. The sex slave stuff doesn’t sound bad.”

  “Oh really?” She tipped her head back. “You’d be okay being a sex slave?”

  “I’m male. The only word I heard there was sex.”

  She managed a smile, and then the quiver in her belly made its way up to the corners of her mouth. Alistair’s gaze shadowed and he stroked the side of her face. “It’s all right,” he murmured. “I’m sorry, Nina. So sorry.”

  “It’s not that,” she managed, pressing her face to his chest. Her fingers had curled around his biceps, holding on to his strength. He’d come for her. Kept her safe again. Though she knew there was some truth to it that the danger had come because she was part of his world, there were other things she knew. She remembered the hellfire in his eyes, the regret and fury. She saw the remnants of what had been serious wounds on his body, and felt far more emotions beneath the surface of his casual words than he was expressing. Maybe it was her third mark connection that allowed that perception. Maybe it was simply having a deeper understanding of what to look for after a man had been in battle. But she wouldn’t be an additional burden to him.

  “It’s not that,” she repeated, with a sniffle. “This is nothing. You should see the drama when nurses get in a blue with one another. It’s the darn peaches making me cry. I really wanted those tonight.”

  “Well, women always fight dirtier. And no worries. Dan sent a delivery boy with the peaches.” He wrapped both arms around her, held her close as she continued to cry quietly against him, getting it out. Even as she held him back and kept saying, “It’s all right. We’re all right.”

  “Yeah, we are.”

  At length, she lifted her head, looked up at him. She didn’t want him to think she was falling apart. A good cry could give a woman strength. The strength to tease.

  “The lengths I have to go to, in order to be in your bed,” she said. “It’s rather ridiculous.”

  “I expect I’ll have to let you share it with me from here forward then,” he said seriously. “Someone did mention it was a large bed.”

  He stroked a new fountain of tears away from her face, but his eyes were on the bandages. “I want you to take some of my blood now,” he said quietly. “I can’t bear to see you in pain.”

  “They don’t hurt much at all. You need blood, too.”

  “You first,” he said firmly. Reaching over her, he drew a knife from the nightstand drawer. It pressed her to her back, his chest against hers, and she reached up to caress his throat and shoulder. He dipped his head, kissed her wrist, and she feathered her fingers over his face. His blue eyes lifted, held hers.

  “Can we take one another’s blood at the same time?” she asked shyly. “I’d like…to feel that.”

  He nodded slowly, and then lifted his wrist, making the cut with clean precision before he brought it to her mouth. She curled her hands over his forearm as he shifted behind her, his other arm going around her waist and snugging her up against him, her backside in the cradle of his thighs. His firm cock pressed against her, and his breath teased the back of her shoulder as she turned her head toward the edge of the pillow, presenting her artery more conspicuously. All while she sealed her mouth over the cut he’d created and began to lick away the blood.

  She arched, pressing her arse more firmly against him, as he sank his fangs into her throat and began to take strength from her as she was from him. His free hand moved over her abdomen, caressing. She wore nothing, his preference when she was in his bed, and her thighs loosened as his touch descended.

  My beautiful servant…so willing to please…

  The words made her tremble, the truth of them giving her pride in her Master’s pleasure, not worrying her as they might have done in the very recent past. She moaned against his flesh, her tongue curling around the tangy richness of his blood, as his fingers eased into the wetness between her legs.

  He was testing her readiness, she realized, for his hand withdrew, and then he was pushing the lounge pants down and out of the way so he could guide his cock into her from behind. His palm returned to flatten itself on her lower abdomen, holding her at the right angle for that penetration, one he punctuated with short, slow movements that rubbed her inside and sent sensation spiraling through her. She began to move with him, God bless third mark healing abilities.

  She kept her mouth pressed against the cut, no longer drinking but helping the wound to close. She’d noted that the blood ran faster when she was drawing on it, and closed quickly when she didn’t.

  When a servant is feeding upon her Master, the flow increases, to provide what she needs.

  Tears stung her eyes at that, the tightness in her stomach moving higher, to her heart, when he added, A servant’s blood does the same. Squeeze down on me. I love to feel the grip of your cunt, sweet nurse.

  She obeyed, and gasped at the result. She continued to grip his forearm in both hands, an anchor as they rose and fell together, building toward that pinnacle. When they reached it, she waited, holding, holding.

  She was waiting fo
r his permission. That brought tears as well, but they weren’t painful tears. Tears of change and acceptance, that life might not be what she expected…but she couldn’t say anymore that it wasn’t what she wanted.

  His arm constricted across her body, holding her closer, suggesting he’d heard the thought, and it mattered to him. A great deal.

  “Come for me, precious servant,” he whispered.

  She released only seconds before him, and relished his hard groan, the way his body tightened to keep the movements controlled, as the position demanded from them both.

  When they were done, he slid from her, but stayed pressed against her backside. She stroked his arm, back and forth, her eyes upon the wall before her, but her mind wholly in the grip of his.

  “This wasn’t really what you wanted for your life either, was it?” she said quietly.

  “What? A gorgeous, willing sex slave in my bed?” He chuckled when she reached back and attempted to swat him, which he thwarted by gripping her wrist. He brought her arm further behind her, first kissing her palm and then lowering her hand, guiding it so it was behind her back. Molding his hand around her fingers, he made her cup his sated cock and testicles. He pressed into that grip with a hum of satisfaction, and bade her leave it there with a squeeze. His now free hand returned to fondle and stroke her breasts.

  “You know what I meant,” she said, trying to stay focused when he seemed determined to arouse her again.

  I’ll have you again before I sleep. But he spoke aloud to answer her question, and when he did, his hand upon her slowed, rested upon her breast, and his tone became thoughtful. “Yes, and no. Same reason I went to war, every time. I don’t like it when others take more than their share. But I’d prefer everything be solved with a good footy match.”

  She couldn’t disagree with either statement. “Who was that, who attacked us?”

  “Donovan. It’s always Donovan. Always testing, and tonight he went too far. He attacked you and Nero, and pulled four of his territory vampires into it. I’ve taken blood from the survivors, a sire’s portion, so that I’ll not only know where they are, but what they’re bloody thinking, if they have a single disloyal thought. It’s the primary way to determine what a vampire is doing, get into his head like that. And you can make inroads into his overlord or Region Master’s head too, if…”

  He broke off abruptly. Sensing the sudden tension in his body, Nina twisted her head around to look at him. He released her and sat up, raking his fingers through his disheveled hair. “Damn it,” he swore.

  His gaze held more than anger. It was a trace of the haunted grief he carried within him toward his fallen brethren, mixed with frustration and something that suggested he wasn’t entirely sure what to feel. She put it together with his words and sat up next to him, dread gripping her.

  “You think he’s done that to someone you thought was loyal to you. Who, and why do you think that?”

  “I have an inkling of who,” he said grimly. “As to the why, it’s the only way what Donovan did tonight makes sense. He’s too aware of my movements, yours and Nero’s schedule. My relationship with you. The political insults he’s throwing my way, about my weaknesses…they’re drawing on knowledge he shouldn’t have.”

  “What weaknesses?”

  He glanced at her. She was beginning to read his cues, and knew he was a breath from pulling back from her. That detachment was sometimes about the things they couldn’t quite work out with one another, but other times it was about protecting her. She could tell this was one of those times.

  But she was his servant. She wasn’t going to be shut out if she could help it. Her mind was working faster now that she had blood to rejuvenate her. “Me. I’m a weakness. Because you let me work at the hospital, and you’re not taking me with you to the things where it’s expected an InhServ would be at your back. You’re showing a softness toward me that says you’re maybe not the right one to be Region Master.”

  “It’s only one more bogus thing he’s using to prop up his position. He has plenty others.”

  When she opened her mouth to say more, he pressed her back into the bed, abruptly on top of her again, his body pressed insistently between her legs, his eyes sparking. When he spoke, his voice was low, even, and as dangerous as a snake about to strike.

  “If you’re truly mine, then what I say you can and can’t do is my bloody business. Those who consider that a weakness will learn differently, quick enough. Understand me?”

  She swallowed. Managed to whisper her fingers across his jaw, and got pricked by a fang. “Yes, Master.”

  He sucked the drop of blood away, then brushed his lips across her mouth. “Good.”

  Before she could rally from that, he left the bed and picked up his clothing. “Get dressed, sweet nurse. Raise Stanley on the phone and inform him his Region Master wants to see him. Right now.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Though Alistair didn’t indicate he needed her in attendance, he didn’t command her not to be. She wasn’t sure if she would have obeyed him if he had.

  When Stanley arrived, she was dressed in slacks and a blouse, hair and makeup done so she was put together exactly as an InhServ should be. She was also at the front door. As she stood in the foyer, watching for his arrival, she saw Nero in the opening to the kitchen. Alistair had disappeared soon after confirming Stanley was on his way, but she knew he was in his study and wanted time to himself. She wasn’t sure what was happening in his mind, what plan of action he had, but she reluctantly gave him his space to determine it.

  “Quiet in here,” she noted to Nero.

  “Alistair sent the rest of the staff home, except for me and Coleman. He’s around the back.”

  She held Nero’s gaze as they both listened to Stanley mount the veranda stairs. The butler was almost as still and calm as Alistair was before he did something deadly, but he unbent enough to reach out, pass a surprisingly gentle and paternal knuckle down her face. “That looks much better. Still hate seeing any evidence of it there.”

  “I am far tougher than I look. A little scrape is all it was.”

  “Mmm.” Nero looked toward the door, but Nina put a hand on his arm.

  “I’ll get this one.” Clearing her throat, pulling herself out of the harrowing possibilities that Nero’s explanation for the staff’s absence had conjured in her head, she moved to the entrance and opened it before Stanley had to knock. She offered a cordial nod. “Mr. Welch.”

  Stanley wore his usual jaunty hat, with a grey suit and a slim pink tie. His shoes were shined. For all that his tongue could run amok, he always came to Alistair properly dressed. She wondered if there was some extra polish to him this time, though. Was that because he was confident of Donovan’s backing, or was he trying to make a better show of himself to Alistair?

  As bad a start as she’d had with Stanley, she’d come to realize his rough and crude ways were as Alistair had said, a function of his raising and experience. He didn’t have a bad heart. But he was a vampire. As she gazed upon him, she realized she didn’t know whether to treat him as foe or misguided fool. Or an outright enemy who’d helped ambush her Master.

  Her expression must have warned him, because rather than his jovial crudity, he stepped into the foyer and gave her a fairly sedate nod before he attempted his normal demeanor. “Nina. Where’s his high and mightiness then?”

  “In his office.”

  “I know the way.”

  She nodded, but fell in behind him. When they reached the doorway, she stayed at the threshold as Stanley entered. Alistair was sitting at his desk, looking out at the beach in darkness. Only one lamp was on. It threw shadows in the corner but highlighted the planes of his face, the deep set in his eyes, making them more severe as he turned them toward Stanley. He rose.

  “What’s up, then?” Stanley asked. He’d removed his hat, was turning it in his hands. Nina was going to step forward, ask if he wanted her to take it, offer him a drink, but she was waiting for
Alistair’s lead. She was aware of Nero, another shadow in the hallway, and suddenly recognized the tone of all of this. Violence. Impending, inevitable violence. Then, before she could act, Alistair had.

  It was both terrifying and absurd, how quickly a vampire could do something. Almost no noise at all, just a flutter of wind, and Stanley was crumpled on the floor like a balled-up piece of paper. Back curled, head tucked in as Alistair kept his hand clamped on his neck, his forehead shoved at a painful angle to his knees.

  “Who do you take me for, Stan?” Alistair said, his voice laden with menace. “Think I’m a fool because I had mercy on you? That makes two of us at the moment.”

  “What? I don’t know what—”

  Alistair twisted him around, seized his arm and wrenched it. The sound of the break was a sharp crack, drowned out by Stanley’s raw scream. Nina gasped, feeling a sympathetic shard of pain through her recently dislocated arm, but in the time she’d experienced that, Alistair had already shoved him to the ground again. Stanley shrank into a fetal ball, but he didn’t curl everything in fast enough. Alistair stepped on the arm, pinning it, and earned another shriek.

  “Alistair.” Nina had tried to lunge into the room, but Nero was holding her around the waist, pulling her back. He couldn’t silence her, though. “Alistair, don’t. Don’t do this to him. He’s not fighting you.”

  He wasn’t. He could have tried, but Stanley was simply trembling, helpless. Submissive to a stronger animal who might just kill him where he lay. It twisted something in Nina’s belly, something terrible, as much to see Alistair doing it as Stanley surrendering to it.

 

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