by Joey W. Hill
Thank God, she'd been right.
Epilogue
Brian strode down the hallway, his head down as he considered the latest statistics from the Texas visit. He needed several more test subjects. Debra had collected a list of candidates, one of them in Iceland. He'd never been to Iceland, and wondered at the kind of vampire who would choose to settle in such cold. Of course, there was protracted darkness there...
Though there were ethical questions to resolve, what they needed was data on unstable made vampires. Which meant he needed several brought to the lab before they were executed, so he could get live tissue samples, interview them like he had Butch. He didn't relish such unpleasantness, but that was where a scientist's detachment was necessary. Their end would be humane and they would be in a contained, safe environment until that time. He could justify his need with that. It would still be damned uncomfortable, but the whole point of all this was to cut down on the number of made vampires necessitating execution in the future.
Sensing something amiss, he stopped. Jacob stood just past him on the left side of the hall, watching him with an amused look. The servant had obviously moved out of his way rather than be plowed over. "Good thing it wasn't my Mistress again," he said. "She'd have strapped you down and used you as a carpet runner for a week to reinforce the lesson."
"I'm sure you would have gone out and stepped in dog shit just for the pleasure of tracking it across my body."
"My lord, I hadn't thought of it. But thank you for planting the suggestion." Jacob grinned, but then a more serious look came to his eye. "My lady has a friendship with Butch Dorn. He called and gave a detailed account of your visit last week."
"Yes, it was productive. I think the data will be useful."
"I expect it will."
From the spark in Jacob's blue eyes, Brian wondered what Butch had shared during that phone conversation. God knew he'd made some pretty bold assumptions that night which might or might not be supported by Lady Lyssa. As Graham had guessed, he'd bluffed. With great determination.
Brian braced himself, but Jacob merely nodded and resumed his course. After a thoughtful moment, Brian did the same. He'd almost reached the opposite end of the corridor before he heard the servant call to him again.
"My lord?"
Brian glanced back at him. Jacob cocked his head. "Going toe-to-toe with a vampire four times your age, you won't be called a nerd anymore. Except by Gideon."
"One day I will put his head through a wall," Brian retorted. "Right next to yours."
"My lady is far more likely to do that first." Jacob flashed a grin. "Give my regards to Debra. I saw her yesterday and she looked happier than I've ever seen her. No doubt because she's back here, where I can bring her cookies."
"Keep your cookies to yourself," Brian advised, and Jacob's grin grew wider. The servant turned, headed up the hallway once more.
"She likes sugar cookies best," he called over his shoulder. "The cook just made a fresh batch. Maybe you could swing by there on the way to the lab."
Brian shook his head, but he only took two steps toward his original destination before he changed direction toward the kitchen. He was already anticipating Debra taking pieces of that cookie from his fingers, kissing lips frosted with sugar...
His servant had brought sweetness to his life in ways he hadn't anticipated. He fully intended to return the favor.
Sample Excerpt
Like Joey W. Hill's vampire world? Here's a taste of the first book of the Vampire Queen series, The Vampire Queen's Servant (Jacob and Lyssa's story):
Lyssa wanted a meal. Preferably something muscular, a man whose long, powerful body would serve her well as she took his blood. She would hold him down, drink her fill and ride him hard. Take him deep, making him give up his rich blood and hot seed to her body at the same time. She'd push him to exhaustion, beyond rational thought. All those wonderful muscles would be taut and slick as he pounded into her with single-minded urgency, his most primitive instincts making him into a fierce, beautiful rutting animal.
Just imagining it made heat shimmer over her skin. As she gazed out the window from the shadows of the backseat of her limo, her lips parted, her tongue caressing the backside of her fangs as if she could already taste him.
For months she'd made herself take blood functionally, letting it nourish her the way freeze-dried packets would keep a lost camper alive. But like most vampires, her desire for blood was intertwined with her need to dominate her victim sexually. Without that, the blood had no taste. No vitality.
She missed taking alpha males. She enjoyed the fight, their resistance, the sweet taste of heated blood. The perception, if only for a moment, that the hunt would be a challenge. A vampire didn't survive by being ruled by her compulsions, any more than a woman survived by being consumed by her most private desires. But tonight she needed release, and she was feeling reckless enough not to care about the consequences to her fragile heart.
Her nails were just the beginning. A manicure, then a man.
It irritated her that the car in the deserted parking lot of the salon was not Max's. Maybe her manicurist had experienced car trouble and borrowed someone else's vehicle. Still, it set off alarm bells in Lyssa's head. But since her limo was an evening's rental while she stayed in Atlanta, she couldn't very well ask the driver to scope out the area for signs of rival vampires. Of course, if she'd had a marked human servant, he could have performed the task for her.
She studied her nails by the light thrown into the car from the parking lot lamps. Hellhound that he was, her Irish wolfhound Bran had torn one when she was indulging his incessant need for attention. It had grown back to the half-inch length she preferred in no time, but the glossy burgundy polish could not be regenerated. Perfection was essential, particularly these days when showing any vulnerability could create dangerous situations. Though she easily could afford to pay a manicurist to come to her home, her enemies needed to know she wouldn't hesitate to go out to seek simple indulgences.
The hell with it. So it wasn't Max's car. If it was a trap or trick, she was ready to prove to any enemy or potential suitor foolish enough to challenge her she was not to be trifled with — particularly not when she teetered on the edge of full blown blood lust.
Read another taste of Jacob and Lyssa's story on The Vampire Queen's Servant page on Joey's website, http://www.storywitch.com/book-vqs-vqs.
