Evan was right. She could break a man’s heart. Niall hooked a finger in Evan’s belt loop, tightening there as he held Alanna closer to his side.
Any luck with Daegan?
He understands the situation and will do his best. I believe he understands my feelings on the matter. Our feelings on it. Evan shot him a humorous glance. I am not the only vampire fond of a surly human male, Niall.
Leaning closer, he put his mouth over Niall’s, a quick press of fang. Then he turned his head and drew Alanna over his shoulder, giving her a taste of them both. “We’re taking you to one of my favorite places in the world,” he told her. “Niall likes it, too. A wealth of voluptuous women cook him food there.”
When her gaze narrowed, her lips thinning, Evan tossed Niall an amused look. “Be careful, neshama. Nothing more dangerous in this world than a jealous woman.”
As they traveled to their next destination, Alanna dozed on the sleeper. She’d stayed up front with the men for a while, but she’d been tired and Evan had sent her to bed. However, even in her somnolent state, she held on to her connection with them like a child holding a stuffed animal. They talked about Evan’s next project, the mundane events of the past few days. Overhearing their mention of the wedding reception, her mind returned to it as well.
She’d spent some time with Chloe and her family, but at a certain point, she’d gone looking for her Master and Niall. Evan was sitting under a live oak, almost lost in its shadows. Earlier, when she’d seen him by the dim light provided by the Chinese lanterns, she’d realized he was hungry, but he’d told her he’d be fine until dawn.
Niall stood casual guard, keeping those who approached engaged in conversation so that Evan would be unnoticed. The Scot was about ten yards away, yet she could see it, the connection between them. It wasn’t just the vampire–servant, mind-to-mind physical connection. They had a chemistry she suspected had existed from the beginning. Was it that way for vampire–servant pairings that were fated, instead of arranged? Perhaps not, because many vampires didn’t have the kind of bond with their servants that Evan obviously had with Niall . . . that Lady Lyssa had with Jacob.
Dangerous thoughts she couldn’t help but have. The slight tilt of Niall’s head, his body language, told her how aware he was of his Master at all levels. Whether Niall admitted it or not, he’d be as lost without that connection as he would when his heart stopped beating. She wondered if that was the real reason a servant died when his vampire did.
Going to the waitstaff, she asked for half a glass of red wine. Moving into a convenient screen of oleander at the corner of the pool house, she drew the small blade a servant routinely carried for such things. A syringe would be more efficient, but a small pocketknife was easier to explain. She was well-practiced at it, such that the cup was filled in no time.
When she approached the tree, Niall’s nostrils flared as he caught the scent. Giving her an imperceptible nod, he caught her arm and said something that made her smile before he resumed his conversation with the two men. Slipping under the oak’s canopy, she dropped to her knees between Evan’s feet.
“Mother hens, the both of you,” he said, but his lips curved. He bade her stay, so she shifted at his direction, resting her head on his knee, her body pressed against his calf as he idly stroked her hair, sipped the blood.
“Niall said it was necessary. He didn’t want you trying to eat the guests. Tyler won’t invite you back, and Niall likes the food here.”
“It would be a braver man than myself that stood between Niall and a feast.” Evan brushed her cheek with his knuckles. “You’re learning to tease and be teased.”
She nodded, returned her head to his knee. She fingered the hand he had dangling loosely over it, touching the pewter ring on his middle finger. Time heals all things. “Was this a gift?”
“Yes, from Niall. He gave it to me the year I turned three hundred, on Yom Kippur. Day of Atonement.” Evan studied the ring. “It’s a solemn day, a fast from sunset to sunset, during which a Jew reviews the past year and seeks atonement for his sins against God. He’s also supposed to make amends for any sins against others before the day itself.” He looked up at her. “Niall says I get gloomy as a cloud on Yom Kippur. He gave me the ring because he thought a shiny bauble might perk me up, like it would a lass.”
She smiled. “He likes teasing you. But I expect you teased him back.”
“Several times, the next night. It would have been forbidden on that day.” The heat that went through his gaze told her exactly what he meant. “With his bad influence, he’ll teach you the way of it in no time.”
“I like teasing you,” she admitted. “As long as I don’t offend or anger you. You seem to enjoy it when Niall does it.”
“Yet you’re developing your own inimitable style.”
That made her glow a little, especially when his eyes warmed on her. “May I ask . . . What about Yom Kippur makes you sad?”
“After Yom Kippur, you start the new year with a clean slate. But after so many years, you learn there really is no such thing as a clean slate.” He lifted a shoulder, giving her a wry smile. “I’m a blood drinker and a sodomite. Rather hypocritical to atone for something I won’t stop doing. But by its very nature, Yom Kippur is a day of remembrance. After hundreds of years, so many things are forgotten or devalued. So many moments can be like water drops, slipping away from you as the years progress. But I remember my parents vividly, as well as the lives I’ve taken for my annual kill. I’ve made amends for those in the ways that are possible, and I always say prayers for them.
“As far as my parents . . . I was dying when Uthe came to me. There was no way to make them understand the decision I made or reconcile it. I wanted a chance to live . . . to experience life without illness, to pursue this burning drive I had inside me to create, to . . . illuminate. It felt like a mistake, like I was meant to live, and fate had sent me this chance.” He shook his head. “The delusions of ego, but the decision was made. I left in the middle of the night, leaving nothing behind but a note saying that I wished to spare them the pain of my death and would see as much of the world as I could before God claimed me. Honest, in part. But now that I’ve left behind a young man’s self-absorbed view of life, I know that decision caused my mother unimaginable pain. Not just going away from her, but the idea that my body might not have been cared for properly in death, according to our ways.”
She considered that. Despite her mother’s aloofness, once she left home, Alanna still cried herself to sleep for quite some time, knowing she’d never see her again. That first year, the feelings had sometimes been unbearable. To be bonded to someone for three hundred years, sharing emotions, intimacy, everything . . . When Niall was gone, only Evan would hold those memories. It sounded very lonely.
“How will you bear it?”
“The same way we bear anything in life. One moment at a time.”
When she woke, she knew it was daylight, because she was in pitch-black darkness. The rumble of the RV moving over the highway was now matched by the sounds of heavier traffic. Because of yesterday’s events, they had to move during daylight, so Niall had shut all the window coverings. There was a small anteroom between the driver’s area and the living quarters to prevent any sunlight.
She heard Evan shift off the sleeper across from her. Grunt in pain.
“Master?”
“Moving to the floor,” he muttered. “Cooler.”
Before they started on their trip, she’d helped Niall unroll a cool mat, filled with chilled water that plugged into the electrical, and slid it under the camper sleeper. The rough sound of canvas scraping the floor, the slosh of water, Evan’s thud as he flopped down on it, told her he was making use of it.
In pitch black, she had very little vision, but she knew the layout of the RV. Even artificial light would be too much for him right now. Finding the kitchenette, she created an ice pack out of a wet cloth and ice and brought it back to him. Going by sense and light touches, she stepped around his feet, knelt and lay down on her side, propping herself on her elbow.
He’d stripped off his shirt, so she put the ice pack there first, sliding it over his hot skin.
“It’s always an aggravation, traveling during daylight.” The strain in his voice concerned her, though his irritable tone helped ease it. Somewhat. “No matter how well protected I am, nothing less than underground results in this. It’s like when I had fevers as a child, enhanced ten times.” His hand found hers, glided up her forearm. “That feels good. Keep doing that.”
She shifted so she was closer, but didn’t touch his skin with hers, not wanting to add to his heat. It emanated off him like steam. “Master?”
“I’m fine, Alanna. I’ve done this before. My fucked-up anatomy may think I’m a hundred, but I’m not going to act like a fledgling, always going underground before daylight.”
“Do vampires acknowledge any sins, Master?”
“Pride is a virtue to vampires, Alanna. You know that. Coveting is our favorite sport. Gluttony . . .” Capturing her forearm, he lifted her wrist to his mouth, ran his tongue lightly over her InhServ mark. “We never get enough of certain things.”
When he bit down, the ripple of pleasure, right on the heels of the pain, made her tighten her fingers over his knuckles. Blood would help him, keep him strong, and she’d willingly give it all to him. But despite the pleasurable euphoria his feeding caused, she kept bathing him with the ice pack, enjoying his chest, the muscles of his abdomen, his upper thighs. When his other hand came up, cupped her neck, he brought her down to the taste of her blood and his hot mouth. She savored both as he shifted her closer.
“Unh.” He grunted a laugh against her mouth, hand dropping to seize her wrist. She’d let the hand with the ice pack press against his genitals, covered by thin cotton boxers.
She sputtered an apology, reflexively jerking back. The back of her head met his palm, saving her from the metal edge of the sleeper, though the momentum of her reaction had rapped his knuckles. He hadn’t had to do that. It was just a bump to her head. But he had.
