by Joey W. Hill
"Blood isn't easy to get out of clothes."
"I don't want it to wash out." She wanted there always to be evidence of this one experience he'd given her. If there wasn't another, maybe having at least one like this would last her the next seven years.
She unbuckled his belt, slid the button of the jeans free to push her hand in beneath the zipper. She guided it down from inside and out to ensure it didn't catch any tender, turgid flesh. There was a difference between intentional pain, like what she'd done with the rose, and pain caused by carelessness.
Perhaps that was why the memory of Lady Carmela had remained so painful, festering. Because he'd done it intentionally. It tempted her to lock down her emotions, simply enjoy the physical the way he'd been doing throughout their relationship, and not risk her emotions. He was right. It was safer that way.
"Debra."
She shook her head, peeled back the jeans. Removing the rose, she dropped it to the blanket and put her mouth over one of the marks, relishing the taste of his blood. Even a few drops could be rejuvenating to a servant, and it fizzed through her, making her leave off the delicate licks and suck on his skin instead, swirling over it with the tip of her tongue. Her hand slid down to cover his erection, stretching up thick and tempting out of the open jeans. He pushed up into her hand, his breath drawing in, part growl, part sound of pleasure. She didn't have to imagine the restraint he was exercising, letting her do this. She could feel it, like a chain stretched to breaking.
Often after a vampire social event, once the vampires turned in for the dawn, the servants would have impromptu gatherings of their own, if they were friendly enough with one another. She remembered one where Dev, the Australian bushman who was Lady Daniela's servant, had made them all breakfast as they lounged about the kitchen. During the gossip and information trade that was part of such an informal social meet, one servant had speculated whether or not there were any submissive vampires. It was intended as a joke, and had gotten the expected eye rolls and chuckles.
There were always exceptions in Nature. It was one of the ways life evolved and adapted, but for Brian it wasn't a remote possibility. Other vampires might think him mild-mannered because he didn't care about pissing contests at fancy vampire dinners, or political wranglings at the Council table. But he was passionate and determined about his work, single-minded in a way no different from Daegan Rei studying a target, or Lady Lyssa facing down the entire Council.
Lord Uthe once said I wouldn't be the one at the head of the army, storming the castle. I'd be the engineer, tunneling beneath to bring the whole thing crashing down.
She smiled at the thought. I believe that was Lord Uthe's version of a compliment.
But she agreed with Uthe's point. When Brian had his mind made up about something, he wouldn't let any obstacle stand in his way. Just like now.
His hand slid to her hair, tangled there. Making clear he'd given her as much license as he would tolerate, he grasped his cock with his other hand, using his hold on her hair to direct her mouth elsewhere. She didn't resist, eager to take him into the back of her throat as she'd learned to do, wanting to give him pleasure. Her body vibrated with that need.
Reveling in the strength and demand communicated by his grip, she was surprised when he lifted her off him after mere moments and had her straddle him, shoving his jeans down. He didn't thrust inside her, though. He sat her on his engorged cock, its length splitting the folds of her sex as he cupped her breasts, thumbs sliding in the cleavage while he molded and kneaded. Releasing the front clasp of the bra, he pulled the garment off her shoulders, but only to tangle it around her wrists, tighten it behind her back before he reared up and clasped both her breasts again, bending his head to tease, lick and suckle her. When she arched backward, moaning, he dropped a hand to support her back, let her lean against his strength, fingertips playing in her hair, which fell past her shoulder blades and into his grasp with her head tipped back. He scored her nipple with a fang, earning a gasp and a more severe arch. His pleased, throaty chuckle told her he liked her response.
He slid his touch between her bound wrists and her body to play in the cleft beneath the panties. When he tore the garment, yanking it out of the way, the impulsive gesture startled and aroused her further. He gripped her buttock, showing her he wanted her to move against his cock, rub her soaked crotch against his length. She complied, her mind now following his will, needing, wanting nothing else than to be his to command.
Sweet servant. Beautiful Debra. Dance for me.
As she rotated her hips on him, her body undulating, he was using his mouth on her again, making his way up her sternum. She had her head tilted fully back when he bit, taking a draught of the blood she alone would give him. She knew he never drank from any other.
Of course. You're my servant. Your blood is mine alone. All of you is mine.
The surge of emotional pain was far more agonizing than any physical pain he could give her, but as she stiffened, he caught her head in both hands, cradled her face, made her look at him.
"We're going to figure this out, Debra," he said fiercely. "I know it won't happen immediately, but you will give me all of it. Your pain, your sadness, your tears. I've been ignoring the best part of our bond. Your heart and soul are mine to explore as well."
As he held her gaze, she felt it, that link they shared, three marks to bind a human soul to a vampire forever. But rather than staying at the level he always did, he started to descend further inside her.
The mind was the repository for any emotions ascribed to the heart and soul. So science said. Yet she thought she was going to have to revise that assertion as she felt her heart start thudding, feeling...something closing around it. Beyond that, her awareness of herself, of everything she was, her entire existence, now shared space with him, a rushing, swirling feeling that filled her core, from her head to the soles of her feet and everything in between, including heart and soul.
It frightened her, and fear turned the feeling into an invasion. He stroked her upper arms, his voice a soothing murmur as he brushed his lips over hers.
"Easy. You've nothing to fear."
She had everything to fear. He'd always left her heart and soul to herself, let her nurse the pains and disappointments there unmolested. Yet as his consciousness wound its way through those dark shadows and locked boxes, it entered them easily. He could see every emotion and need, every craving she couldn't hide from him. How much she needed him, wanted him. How she couldn't breathe without him.
She really couldn't exist without him, even if he broke her heart a million times over. She did hate him sometimes, for what he'd done to her. But her hate wasn't a drop in the bucket next to how much she loved and needed him.
Brian lifted his head, his countenance vibrant with emotions of his own. Shock... speculation. She couldn't invade his mind, couldn't know what he was thinking. Whereas she was stripped raw. Nowhere to hide.
Panicked, she struggled against the restraint on her wrists. He reversed their positions, putting her under him, freeing her hands with a swift movement so they weren't uncomfortably beneath her. Since he still had her pinned with his body, she struck at him, the reaction of a cornered animal, not a rational woman, but he didn't block her. He slid inside of her, invading her in a different, no less devastating way.
He was always a good fit, filling her deep and stretching her, but tasting his blood and touching him as she wished had obviously had an effect, making him even larger than usual. Her cunt clamped down on him in needy response, even as she kept shoving at him, afraid of her feelings.
"Debra, stop." The quiet words were an unmistakable command, but she couldn't. As quickly as she'd had that reaction, it reversed so she had her arms wrapped around him as tightly as she could, pulling him against her so her face was pressed into his neck, legs wrapped over his bare hips. Maybe if she held him so close, as if they were one person, she wouldn't be so afraid.
"Ssshhh." He stroked her hair, m
ixing it up with little tugs that sent searing jolts through her agitated body. At the same time he settled into an easy, rocking boat rhythm, hips lifting and lowering in smooth thrusts. "I'm here. Trust me. Just trust me for tonight. One step at a time."
He was still at that subterranean level of her mind, at the same time he was physically deep inside her body, and now it was like he was dancing with her emotions, a smooth waltz, inviting her to twine and tangle with his thoughts.
Vampires weren't inclined to reveal their deepest feelings, even to their servants, but he gave her a glimpse of what he felt for her. A flickering starlit sky where there were so many things to explore, three hundred years wouldn't be enough.
She caught another sob in her throat, held him even tighter.
We will take the journey together, Debra. Just be patient with me. I'm learning, the same as you.
He tilted her head back, studied her with an edged look.
"But you'll promise me one thing. You won't take your life. Not ever. And if ever you're thinking of it, you will come to me." His mouth became a thin line. "Though you shouldn't have to. I don't plan to be that far from your thoughts ever again."
Chapter Five
Lyssa had three planes at her disposal as Council Head, and she always generously allowed Brian to use one for his research trips, so he could make the most efficient use of his time. For vampires, travel had a limitation of dusk to dawn, though Lyssa had wisely equipped the planes with an emergency compartment shut off from all light and surrounded with a layer of earth on all sides but the small opening. While nothing above ground during daylight was comfortable for a young vampire like Brian, if needed he could survive a flight through daylight relatively unscathed. This trip was fortunately not one of those times, since the flight from Atlanta to Tennessee wouldn't take that long.
Debra sat in the cushioned seat which she knew could be reclined for napping if needed. She resisted the urge to review her notes on their Texas subject. Caleb "Butch" Buford Dorn had been made by Diego Santos three hundred years ago, when the rules about making a vampire had been far looser. However, Diego had shown a responsible, common sense awareness of the principles that later became law. Debra had interviewed him in Barcelona prior to scheduling the meet with Butch. Diego had ensured he had Butch's consent, but even before that, he'd determined the man had a strong physical constitution, matched with an equally strong will, likely to survive and eventually master the impulse problems and physical instability that plagued poorly chosen made vampires.
However, the reason Brian and Debra had such a keen interest in Butch was that he'd shown remarkable stability at a young age. He was turned at thirty-eight, so Brian had theorized that maturity might be a factor, since the percentages of made vampires ruled too unstable to be allowed to survive, or who were unable to overcome blood hunger and violent impulses in the expected timeframe, tended to be younger when they were turned.
Brian had been an exception like Butch, only on the born vampire side of the equation. Throughout their handful of years together, Debra had gleaned everything she could about her Master's childhood and early years. He'd been capable of extraordinary self-control, managing the volatility that kept most vampires at their sire's side for several decades. His father had deemed him ready to attend college on his own to get his first master's degree when he was twenty-seven. She'd met his father once or twice on their visits to England, and found him an austere and entirely intimidating male, a powerful vampire who'd been considered for Council leadership but had turned it down, preferring his role as Region Master of the UK.
During that first visit, Brian's father had brought her into his study by herself. He'd had her stand before him for forty-two minutes without saying anything. Even though her gaze remained lowered, she never felt his eyes leave her. Debra worked through equations in her head, went through the periodic table, named all the muscles and bones in the body, but she never flinched or shifted. After that time period, he'd spoken.
"Will you take care of my son, Debra?"
"I will, my lord." Now she lifted her gaze, met his. "I do."
He nodded. "You may return to your duties."
Butch's historical data indicated he'd overcome his bloodlust urges by sixty-two, only twenty-four years into being a vampire, such that Diego had felt comfortable giving him rein to pursue his life and accomplishments. By the first century mark, Butch had already made a fortune through various pursuits, and now he had an enormous cattle spread in Texas. He'd also been named overlord of that vast state. Made vampires rarely became overlords, and almost none made the Region Master level. Butch might well be the next to claim that distinction.
Debra glanced up as Brian's foot brushed hers. It was an incidental contact, because he was scribbling furiously on a pad, crosschecking something on his laptop. As she watched, he shoved impatiently at the hair that fell over his forehead. He'd cut it short once, like a military cut. She hadn't liked it that way, but she hadn't said anything.
You didn't need to. I could tell.
His gaze lifted to her briefly, then he went back to his figuring.
So he'd changed it. For her? She loved running her fingers through the strands, so she wasn't complaining. She just couldn't imagine that he'd done such a thing for his servant.
Your Master is a selfish bastard. He likes it when you touch his hair. It was entirely self-interest. Now go back to your work. You're distracting him.
He didn't look up, but the comment startled a small chuckle out of her, warmth curling low in her stomach.
Since the night on the south lawn, they'd worked together as they always did, but he was in her mind far more often, just as he'd promised. When he retired for the dawn, if she still had things to do in the lab, he spent about a half hour speaking in her mind before he fell asleep. They talked over data, yes, but they'd also...chat. He'd ask her what she was going to do with her day.
The first time he asked, she rattled off all the work she'd be doing, assuming he was checking to see what her progress would be by the time he woke. When she was done, she felt the caress of his mind like a touch on her skin.
All right. But starting today and every day going forward, you'll take a two hour break away from the lab. Spend time with other servants, read a book in the garden -- something not about work. Take a walk. Go swim in the pool with John when he gets home from school. I want you to start taking two hours for yourself, and getting three hours of sleep each day. Five hours total.
He'd cleverly anticipated her overlapping them, the infuriating man.
And I'll be asking what you did with your two hours each day when I wake.
She was going to protest, tell him she couldn't possibly get everything done that he expected her to have done with five hours of down time.
Those are your expectations. Not mine. Before she could feel taken aback by that brusque statement, he added, You exceed mine with barely two-thirds of what you get done. So obey your Master. Two hour break, three hours of sleep.
The first time Jacob had come upon her and John having a splashing contest in the pool, she'd laughed at his look of shock, surprising herself at how good the spontaneous reaction felt. It had been a while since she'd done that.
Jacob had noted her pale skin was reddening in the sunlight. Her third mark healing abilities took care of that quickly after some mild discomfort, but Brian had read the memory from her mind and exhorted her not to go out without sunscreen in the future. Since he'd followed up the admonishment with a quick spanking that left her aroused and trembling, it had crossed her mind to forget more often to earn more punishment. A flash in his eyes and he'd pounced on her in retaliation. After tying her spread-eagle on his bed, he put his mouth between her legs, only allowing her to climax when she was begging, in tears and promising to put on the sunscreen as if she was making a sacred oath to protect the world.
"Lord Brian, we're beginning our approach." The pilot's voice came over the intercom. "We should be
on the ground in a few minutes."
To cover the sudden tightness in her stomach, she began packing up her work. She hadn't reached out and called her grandmother, told her they were coming. Though Brian had agreed to do this during the Council update, she'd expected something to come up he'd consider higher priority. She hadn't wanted to raise Grandma's expectations and then be a no-show.
"Thank you." Brian released the button to respond. Usually he would work until the wheels were on the ground, so Debra was surprised to see him pack up the laptop and his notes before he turned his attention to her.
"Are you all right?"
It was an odd question for a vampire to ask, since he could see it well enough in her mind, but he'd done that more often this past week as well. The concern and attentiveness it demonstrated moved her more than was wise.
She nodded, even as she wondered if the real reason she hadn't called her grandmother was to leave herself an out. Even as she longed to see him, some part of her wanted to remember Grandpa as she always had. She wanted to touch his big, callused hand, hear his gravelly voice. He'd been a smoker as long as she could remember, yet it wasn't lung cancer that was getting him, but heart disease. A bitter irony, because he had one of the biggest hearts she knew.
She remembered him gesturing at her with one of his cigarettes before jamming it back in the corner of his mouth, holding it clamped there as they worked on a weather project for her science class. "The will is the most persistent and pernicious part of being human." He snorted out a harsh laugh. "It's why the whole Garden of Eden of story revolves around it. I know these things will kill me, but I'm going to smoke them, despite all that. There's no understanding the will. Sometimes I expect it's the part of us most like God. Hard to understand, but as inevitable as sunlight and rain."
Since she was then at the age when youth questioned everything, she'd told him a scientific person couldn't truly believe in God. He'd given her an indulgent look. "Consider this, little thinker. You can learn everything about painting that Vincent Van Gogh knew. Break it down to brush strokes and paint composition, and you still can't paint like him. You could program a computer to do an exact replica, but you're still copying what he created from something inside him no one can explain." He pointed a finger at her chest, her heart. "The world is four parts science and one part God. As you live and grow, you figure out that one part makes all the rest possible."
