by Joey W. Hill
She shook her head. “Who can?” he demanded.
“My Master…you can.” Her voice shook.
Alistair dropped to one knee in the ankle-high surf, and held both her hands, looking up at her. He’d done that so many times, she realized, kneeling so she was gazing directly into his face, even with her eyes lowered, as a proper servant. And from the very first time he’d done it, she’d realized he lost not a whit of control over her in the pose, and so it was right now, as well.
“None of it has the same hold on you that I do. It’s done, Nina. Even if I let you run, you would come back to me here, on this shoreline, because no memory is stronger than your will, your desire to obey your Master.”
He’d teased her as a man would, but now she saw the vampire, felt it in his grip. Responded to it. When her fingernails dug into his flesh, it was because she hungered for him, for his commanding touch, for the bruises he might leave on her with that heavy-handed grip. For the total ownership that went far beyond what was acceptable for husband and wife. There were parts of their relationship that were in a far different territory than that.
Parts that she wanted.
His expression was fierce. “Then ask me, Nina. Ask me to care for you.”
“Alistair,” she whispered. “Tell me you love me. Please. Help me learn to swim again.”
There were so many layers to that, and she believed he understood every one of them.
He didn’t answer her with words. He rose, put his arms around her, lifted her. He walked her into the water, until it was up to his waist. Once there, he kissed her, drowned her in that feeling over and over until she was floating in the water, clinging to him, and the tears overflowed.
He held her in the waves as the sparks from the fire danced in the sky. And she trusted him, and learned to love the water again. Because in his arms, she could.
Chapter Twenty-Six
She thought about that. Thought about it a lot. Several weeks later, when an insidious rumor started circulating in town that she was an unmarried woman living with a wealthy member of Brisbane society, she could have cared less. Tracy told her to ignore the wowsers, and Nina could handle herself with any doctors or management staff who thought that meant she was fair game. More than usual.
But it got back to Alistair. She’d tried to squelch it in her own head, but even if he hadn’t picked it up from there, she suspected he’d found out through Nero, who was more protective of her than her own father had ever been.
Two things immediately happened. Winifred was fired, since she ended up being the source of the malicious rumor. Nina learned that from Nero. Apparently, Alistair had the maid brought to his office after learning of the now-public gossip. According to accounts Nina learned from Mrs. W, the girl had emerged a scant twenty minutes later, looking as if she’d escaped with her life.
Knowing Alistair’s temperament on certain issues, Nina thought that might be truer than the housekeeper knew. Shaking and white-faced, Winifred had departed without even a peep about the rest of her week’s wages, though Nero had courteously sent those along with Mrs. C.
Mrs. C had come quite a ways in her feelings toward Nina, and had merely shook her head about it in discussions with Mrs. W. “I’m afraid our Winnie will never make a good domestic,” she said. “But she’s quite had the wind taken out of her sails since the meeting with Lord Alistair. Perhaps it will do her some good. I’ve a friend cooking for a restaurant in town. They’ll put her on in their kitchens, keep her out of trouble. There are some nice young men who work there. Maybe she’ll learn to be less sullen and discontent and catch one of their eyes, give her mother some grandchildren at last.”
Alistair had not spoken of the incident to Nina when she asked, merely noting it was handled. When she would have pressed it, he distracted her quite ably with the second thing he’d decided upon. He told Nina they would be proceeding with getting the wedding certificate. What’s more, they’d have a wedding reception with a few key guests from town; his business associates, her friends from the hospital, people sure to spread the right message about it.
A story was already being cleverly spread in the community that she was a distant cousin, one who’d been properly chaperoned in the house by the staff, staying in a guest bedroom until the wedding date had arrived.
Whether anyone questioned that or not, it had all the elements necessary to leave behind any stigma that she was not as Alistair presented her. A reputable woman, one who could be accepted by the community. And, as Alistair dryly pointed out, since he provided income to the community and generous donations to several popular society charities, money had a way of fixing all perceived social shortcomings.
So here they were, several weeks later, and tonight she would be “married.” From this night forward, she’d be seen as his wife when traveling and interacting with the human world. Which would allow her to travel more with him on Region Master business as well.
All of the steps he’d taken fit with the official way he’d told her vampires handled such things with their servants, to blend in human society. What bemused her were other pieces of it. He said the two of them, with Nero as witness, would have a handfasting ceremony before the reception. The ceremony would happen in the highest parapet of the house, the glass-enclosed one adjacent to the rooftop deck where she’d had so many memorable midnight encounters with Alistair.
He’d also bought a ring for her. She hadn’t seen it, but when she heard Mrs. W whispering about it with Mrs. C, she told herself it would be a serviceable and appropriate symbol. He could have given it to her in a matter-of-fact way, but he’d told her he’d do it at the ceremony.
She thought of the normal life fantasy game they’d played together. The humor of it, the gentle poignancy. He’d insisted she get herself a dress, one she’d want to be married in. She’d resisted. He’d insisted, and when her Master was in an insistent mood…there was only one response to that.
As a result, she couldn’t completely avoid the thoughts and emotions that went along with all this, no matter if it was merely a façade. She stood in her room, wearing the dress she’d chosen, gazing at herself in the mirror. A little while ago, before she dressed, Nero had delivered two things. A little bouquet JD had thoughtfully put together for her. And a gift from Alistair.
The triple-stranded choker had pearls gleaming with a soft bronze light. The way it held her throat so snugly reminded her of Alistair’s hand there. His claim upon her.
Mere formality or not, she wished she had a female friend who could stand as her maid of honor. If she’d lived, it would have been Sher. Or Helen. But she was good at visualizing, and it wasn’t hard to see translucent aspects of the two women, dressed in lavender bridesmaid gowns. People who had shaped her, guided her destiny to this moment, their spirits always close to her heart.
The past, the present and future. The real and the fantasy. They had the power to overwhelm her tonight. Make her feel almost…happy. Had her dreams changed? Or had fate opened up the path to her she was meant to walk all along?
All she could do was get through and follow her heart. Taking a breath and picking up the little bouquet, she left the room.
She found Nero at the bottom of the winding stairs to the rooftop. As he looked her over, a soft smile touched his face. It warmed her, she couldn’t deny it.
She’d relented enough to pick out a dress she really loved. The bodice was simple, fitted points over the bosom and following her upper body closely. A wide scoop neck edged with lace, with short lacy cap sleeves. The satin skirt was sewn with a lace overlay that started around mid-thigh, a mix of wing patterns that reminded her of birds playing over the froth of the surf.
She grasped Nero’s hand and, with a playful smile, she stepped out of the satin ivory pumps. As she took the first step up the spiral winding staircase barefoot, Nero was close behind. When they reached the tower, Nero took her hand again. He had obviously assumed the role of “giving away the bride,” and she s
miled at him, telling him she was pleased.
With Nero here, and those specters of Sher and Helen close, they had all the witnesses they needed for this. Then she saw Alistair, and a whole wealth of other needs rose inside her.
Alistair looked as fine and prepared as any groom she’d ever seen. He wore a double-breasted dark blue suit with a gleaming white dress shirt. His grey tie had blue stripes that picked up the color of his eyes. Silver links gleamed at his cuffs, and his black oxfords shone. His dark hair was brushed, thick and silky.
On his lapel was pinned a New Zealand tea tree rose, a tribute to Sher that stung her eyes. He also wore an Australian flag pin. She recalled what Rigby had said, what seemed like so long ago.
Bought his way out of a uniform…
Soldiers were usually married in their uniforms, a symbol of all the qualities they valued—honor, loyalty, dedication—brought to bear before their intended wives. So the pin was his uniform. She was sure he’d worn it for that reason. Alistair had fought in multiple wars, served as scout, spy and guerilla-style combatant. But because he was a vampire, he’d never been able to enlist. A soldier could not be available only after dark, could he? But because he’d fought with and for his mates, he was a soldier. It was at the heart of him. Which explained why he’d become Region Master. As he’d said, he didn’t like a situation where someone took by force more power than was their right or share.
It also explained how he’d understood, and given her, the dream of being a nurse. He’d done his best to give her what he could in his limited world.
“Alistair,” she whispered. “what are we doing?”
“Getting married,” he informed her. “Didn’t I explain that?”
She gave him a look. “For form’s sake. This…feels…”
He took her hand, squeezed it, stilling her words with those piercing eyes of his, the set of his firm mouth. “You belong to me, Nina,” he said. “You’re my servant. I will ensure that whatever world we inhabit sees you as mine, under whatever customs they prefer. That’s what this is about. But there is more I would say to you here, before a man I trust.”
He glanced at Nero, emphasizing that his next words were a testament he wanted heard, witnessed, which increased that overwhelming feeling inside her. Nero’s eyes flickered with surprise, then some deeper emotions. He gave Alistair a slight nod.
Alistair turned his attention back to her, taking both of her hands, so they were facing one another. Like a bride and groom. Her heart accelerated even more.
“I’m used to thinking these things to you,” he said, a trace of somber amusement crossing his face. “So I’m going to sound just like an awkward schoolboy reciting his letters. Don’t hold that against me. All right?”
She nodded, her throat thick.
“I’ve been at war or on the periphery of it, for a very a long time,” he said quietly, as if it were just the two of them. “The world was always at a full roar. Once in a while, I’d think, ‘Is there any quiet space, a still spot in a chaotic world?’ And there she was. In the middle of hell and blood and death, in a converted school. A treasure. One I had to have, damn everything else.” He paused. “Even her own dreams.”
She swallowed, and his eyes darkened with those shadows that never seemed too far away from him. “But I’ll do my best to make sure it’s not the worst life you could have. And show you things you never imagined were possible, that might make up for those other dreams, even if they can’t ever replace them.”
He already had. But with his words, he told her something else. He was trying to give her what she’d lost. While those shadows told her he believed she would never truly stop grieving for it.
As he straightened and stepped back, framed against the waves crashing on the beach below, she knew the answer she wanted to give him.
“Nero.” The butler stepped forward, took her hand again, a courtesy and affection. “Would you mind leaving us alone?” she asked.
He shook his head, after a glance at Alistair, and then he kissed her hand in an oddly formal way and offered it to her vampire. Alistair took it, and the butler nodded to him, a blessing of sorts.
“You take care of her, now. Or I’ll come after you, young man.”
Alistair smiled. “You’ll help me with that, I expect. Let me know if she needs something and I’m being too much of a daft bastard to see it. Nothing gets past you, Nero. You’ll give me your word,” he added, more seriously.
Nero nodded, and offered his hand again, for a firmer shake. “You have it, sir.”
Then he turned, met Nina’s gaze briefly, and descended the stairs.
Nina faced her Master. His attention coursed over her with deep, heart-fluttering appreciation. “You look beautiful,” he said. “But we have no witness now.”
“So do you, and we don’t need one.”
He’d said his words. Now it was her turn, and they came easily, no matter the rough road they’d travelled to get here.
“I was thinking,” she said slowly. “About that normal life we talked about. Having someone to share it with, who can sit in your heart and head.” In your soul. “Who you get to spend your life figuring out, and even at the end, is still enough of a mystery to keep you guessing. In the right ways. But familiar enough to be a comfort through most all of it. That’s the root of it.”
He cocked his head. “Yeah. I think so. Sounds about right for a banker and his wife.”
She shook her head. “No. For anyone who feels like I do, right now. For you.”
She treasured all of this. Treasured it because he’d given it to her. She didn’t need a world of possibilities. Just his heart, his trust, his confidence. That was the treasure she’d always wanted, needed. The still spot in the chaotic world.
He held her gaze, his own becoming so very still. “You did better than me,” she whispered. “I couldn’t say it aloud. The words were too close to my heart.”
She squeezed his hands, then extricated hers. Slowly, holding his gaze as long as she could, she pivoted. “Would you unfasten the back, please?”
She hadn’t known if he would be in her mind, see her intent, but truly, she hadn’t been entirely sure what she would do until she was here. Now it was so very clear. Clear enough she almost felt lightheaded with the import of it. When he touched her, holding her arms as if sensing she was dizzy, she pulled herself together. “Please?” she repeated.
“Nina.” His voice had that steady authority she knew, but it was also touched with a thrilling kind of wonder. “What are you doing?”
“Something I’m finally ready to do. That I was supposed to do, a long time ago.”
His fingers touched her nape. She’d swept her hair up, and shivered at his touch there. He unzipped the dress all the way, just past the top of her buttocks. Beneath the dress, she wore a confection of ivory lace, white satin, and gauzy stockings pinned with dainty garters, an outfit she knew would please him. She let the dress slither off her curves and stepped out of it. Then she turned, and knelt in the froth of it.
She did it in the best InhServ fashion. Not just the form, but with the correct intent infusing the movement, its true meaning, that she perhaps understood fully for the first time in her life.
She knew the shape of his darkness. And how to bring light into it.
“I am your servant,” she said quietly. “You are my Master. I desire no husband, except as that certificate makes that part of who you are to me. You’re the only husband I want. Now and always. The vow I take here…I will mean it and honor it, all the days of our lives.”
Lifting her head so she met his gaze, she spoke the words. It was not just the InhServ oath. It was her oath to him, and so she modified it accordingly. Just as she would tailor being an InhServ to his needs and who she was, and therefore hold fast to the truth she knew here, so clearly in this moment.
“I will serve you with everything I am. Mind, heart, body and soul. No reservations, nothing withheld. My life belongs to you, my Mas
ter, the vampire who owns me, and I will never hesitate to give you what you desire, be it my last drop of blood or my last breath of life. I choose you, Alistair.” She reached up, gripped his hand. “I choose you, Master.”
Just as she’d hoped, the shadows lifted so she could see what was there, in the darkness. She had to lower her eyes because his had become too brilliant. It filled her with joy, such that she wanted to give him both sides of herself, the human and the human servant. “I will keep you in sickness and in health, love, honor and obey you, so long as we both shall live.”
Husband and wife, Master and servant…it all went back to the connection between two unique hearts. What they were to one another, versus what they presented to the world, and it was the former that mattered. That at worst made everything else bearable, but ideally became an adventure to be explored, not feared.
As long as she knew she had his love. Something he couldn’t tell anyone else, but she could make a life out of that, as long as his actions told her it was truth. And almost everything he’d done for or toward her told her it was.
“Nina.” He dropped to his heels, his hand closing over her shoulder, then moving to the crown of her bowed head. She stayed that way and he did too, curved over her a long moment where she absorbed the import of it and more, how it affected him. She could feel it coming off him in waves, nothing hidden or held back from her.
“I may become even more intolerable now,” he said, low. “Knowing you’ve given yourself fully to me. My demands when it comes to you are infinite, Nina.”
“I’m yours, Master,” she said, and went lower, until she could press her mouth to his knee. His grip had adjusted as she moved and now his fingers tightened on the base of her skull, over her neck. And for every demand you have for me, I crave to give you that and more. My desire to serve is infinite.
It was so easy, when she no longer had to doubt herself or him. She could just be and give whatever her heart and soul told her she was and should.