Evan dug his fingers into the grass. He’d turn the tables eventually, roll the Scot over and thrust into him hard, savoring that muscular ass that could squeeze down on his cock in an excruciating, perfect way.
“Ah . . .” Niall’s tongue was devil-inspired. Then Evan detected the scent of lubricant, knew his servant was working it over his thick cock. He pushed up and turned, capturing Niall’s wrist. When he took over the task, he watched the Scot’s breath shorten, his eyes get more dangerous and determined with every pumping, slick stroke. Evan could make him come in his hand, and Niall knew it. He could turn it into a wrestling match, but of course Evan would win. So the Scot went for a more devastating tactic.
“Master . . .” He breathed it, his face harsh, intent. “I want to fuck you. I need to fuck you.”
Evan caressed Niall’s bare chest, fingers slipping over the dragon, the chai mark. His servant had spent centuries embracing a life he wasn’t sure he deserved, or should want as much as he did, but in the end they’d come to this, to celebrate what they’d been given. It filled his heart, such that he knew he’d give Niall what he desired.
With a feral smile, Niall took Evan’s wrist, began to twist it slowly, an armlock that would turn his body around, ending up with that arm up against his back as Niall pressed him to the ground. Evan allowed it, the slow motion an excruciating buildup as Niall at last let him go, pushing Evan down beneath him so he could brace his arms on either side of Evan’s waist, tease his spine once again with his heated mouth.
“Have ye ever done this, moreh?”
Evan shook his head. “You will be the first, neshama.”
He could give him that as well, but his servant gave him back something even better, words that sent heat jamming straight into Evan’s balls.
“I’ll be the only.”
Niall slid an arm around his chest, fingers stroking Evan’s nipple, his sensitive flesh, as he pushed against that virgin opening. Evan pushed back, not insensible to how it was done, and felt the stretch of his servant’s substantial cock. He didn’t fear pain, especially not in the face of the emotional pleasure it was to take him inside, but he let out a groan as Niall broke through those two sets of muscles, coming to rest deep inside of him, filling something Evan hadn’t even realized had been an empty part of his soul.
Balance. Niall drew back, slid in deep again, and Evan let out another low grunt of deep need. Niall’s lips were on the back of his neck. “All right, Master? I dinnae want to hurt ye. Not that way.”
His protective Scot. It made his cock harder, his body crave Niall’s possession even more. “It’s a good pain, neshama. Don’t stop. Take what you desire. I want to feel your demand.”
Some orders Niall would never have difficulty following. The Scot responded instantly, withdrawing to thrust in again, harder. Evan pushed back against him, encouraging, that moment of impact a starburst of pleasure inside. “Blessed Christ,” Niall muttered, and did it again. “You . . . feel . . . so . . . fucking . . . guid.”
His fingers dug into Evan’s hip, the other pressed against his heart. Evan worked himself back against him, his cock leaking pre-cum into the grass, then Niall’s hand shifted to it. He was greedy, his servant. He wanted it all, wanted them to come together. He worked Evan with three centuries of knowledge of his body, even as his body instinctively kept hammering, seeking its own pleasures.
“Fuck . . . yes.” Evan gasped it out, fingers digging into the ground. “Niall . . . come for me.”
“You . . . too. Now.”
They managed it together, bodies bucking together in the moonlight, Niall holding on tight, never flagging in his stroke of Evan’s cock, no matter that his own pleasure came crashing down on him. As they both released with primal groans, Niall’s face was pressed into Evan’s shoulder blades, his teeth sinking into flesh.
They took their time working down to a slow, even rhythm again, both panting. Niall stayed within him, and Evan allowed it, only pressuring them gently so they were on their sides on the soft ground. Niall pressed up inside him, his hand still massaging Evan’s cock. He could do this all night with him.
“If only the lass were here with us,” Niall rumbled. “Think of what we could do with her. She could have her mouth on ye right now, her wee nipples so tight and cunt so wet, wanting the both of us. How long would we keep her waiting?”
“Until she begs, of course.” Evan pushed into his hand. “Harder, neshama. I want to feel that grip.”
As he obliged, Evan felt the blood coursing back into the organ, readying itself. He’d take his ass hard and rough, giving them both pleasure . . . again. Like Niall, though, he felt her absence.
“If I was in her mind, I could let her feel this. See it.”
“She’d want us to do it right in front o’ her hospital bed. She’d spread her legs and stroke herself, driving us mad. You’ve created a monster, Evan.” But Niall’s lazy tone was amused. “Ye get much harder, I’m going to feel like I’m taking a pile driver.”
“Your pain, my pleasure, neshama. The vampire way.”
Niall grunted. “Guid thing we’ll both be vampires. No indulging that female nonsense, telling her we love her all the time. Otherwise, she’ll think she can make me do anything she wants.”
“She already knows she can do that. Her soft bear.”
Evan laughed as Niall shifted his grip to a headlock, putting pressure on his throat. Turning the tables, he slipped the hold and pinned the Scot on his back, putting his whole body down against Niall’s, his mouth on his.
He’d better savor it. His dominant strength wouldn’t last forever. Niall’s power would surpass his eventually. Things might change.
But Evan wasn’t a vampire who feared change. Change was what unfolded new, more amazing landscapes for him to capture, whether those landscapes were a mountain range, or a man’s soul.
25
THE glen was a fairy world, the tree branches and leaf tips touched with a silver gleam, the deep creek emitting the occasional diamond flash when the moon caught sight of it through the canopy. They’d made camp there, knowing they couldn’t stay all night, because Evan would need a more sheltered place in daylight, but they had an isolated cottage with a root cellar they could reach in an hour. Which was good, because by then, Niall would need that cellar as well.
The landscape had changed considerably from three hundred years ago, but it was still a beautiful glen, an out-of-the-way spot. Alanna stood at the edge of the water, letting it lap at her bare toes, breathing in the air. She had her arms wrapped around herself, a relaxed embrace that allowed her to lay her hand discreetly over the third mark she now bore in place of Stephen’s over her hip bone. The hated dagger had vanished when the link was broken, and, increasing her joy, Evan’s third mark had seated itself in the same spot.
She hadn’t been quite sure of its significance, a mark shaped like a tree, the branches almost elegant in the way they spread across her skin, the longest branch touching the curve of her breast. Lord Brian said he’d never seen one so elaborate. So artistic.
Evan had taken a look at it and smiled, his eyes warming on her. “It’s a tree of life, Alanna. Very fitting for your having a Jewish Master.”
Would Niall miss his third mark when it was gone? Would it be gone?
He’s nervous, Alanna.
She came back to the present at Evan’s voice in her head. Turning, she studied Niall. He was sitting on a nearby rock, his eyes closed. Evan was on the opposite bank, sketching, waiting patiently, or perhaps not so patiently, but covering it well. Nodding to acknowledge Evan’s comment, she moved toward the Scot. Coming up on the rock, she knelt behind him, sliding her arms over his chest. Since Evan had marked her fully again, her hair had begun to grow rapidly, so she now had a fine layer of down that Niall likened to a newborn bird’s. He reached back, rumpled it now.
“I’ve seen a human go through the process of becoming a vampire,” she said.
“Aye? Did he drool and try to drain anything with blood that came near him? No dog or wean safe?”
“No.” She pressed a smile against his neck. “When the sire is with the fledgling, the bloodlust is managed with daily doses of the sire’s blood. He does have to stay pretty close to the sire through the transition period, because fluctuations of temper or other factors can make him dangerous, but we have that all planned out, remember? Lord Daegan told us about that place in Ireland, the abandoned monastery with the catacombs. He owns the property, so we can be there for a while. Evan can draw all sorts of dusty bones and pale skulls.”
“Aye.”
She slid under his arm, into his lap. “I’m glad you decided to do it here. To come back to Scotland after all this time. Maybe sometime we can come back for a longer visit.”
“Maybe.” He lifted a shoulder.” ’Tis enough to come here for this. The air is still filled with memories, muirnín. The voices get too loud at times.”
She nodded, understanding. “Are you ready? Master will wait as long as you need, but it’s been hard on him these few weeks, afraid of what might happen.”
“I wanted ye strong again, muirnín, so you could travel, be with us. We both wanted that. ’Tis not right, otherwise.”
“You’re both too stubborn,” she chided gently. “Is it still what you want to do?”
“I’m not sure anyone’s ever ready for something like this. Like going into battle. You just charge and hope for the best.” He looked down at her then, and she was relieved to see it in his eyes. “Yes, muirnín. My wame’s just got that feeling . . . when ye step across a line and ken there’ll be no backing up.”
“Do you want me to leave you alone, give you more time to think about it?”
“No. I like ye fine right here.”
You’re not a young man, Niall. Think about it much longer and Fate will take you right on that rock.
