Taken by a Vampire
Page 75

“Would you like the option of sex with another man, Alanna?”
No. It was such a vehement declaration, the recoil of it sent a pain through her chest. Leaning forward, Evan tangled his fingers in her hair. “Then the correct etiquette isn’t really an issue, is it?” His tone was neutral, reasonable, though something in his gaze wasn’t. “You’ll let me know if that changes.”
But what were Evan’s thoughts on it? Niall’s were obvious, and flattering, though in a backhanded way, since the Scot didn’t seem to think there was any problem with thrusting his cock into some tall Amazon woman who probably didn’t shave her armpits and used skunk spray for deodorant. She ignored Evan’s muffled chuckle, staring out the window, her face averted from their driver.
Of course, Niall’s thoughts could be more sexist than emotional. Being three hundred years old, he couldn’t hide the fact that he found women fragile and in need of protection from male advances. She was pretty good at hand-to-hand. She could show “Mel” a thing or two, maybe put her on the ground to safeguard Niall’s virtue. Not that he seemed to desire its protection.
The forbidding darkness to Niall’s expression discouraged further poking at him. Though she felt a perverse desire to do just that, Evan tightened his fingers on her nape.
Do not goad him, Alanna. The old friends he sees here, he may not see again.
Shame flooded her. Why had she not thought of that? Evan shook his head, telling her not to speak of it, and she didn’t, but she could do something else. As Niall brought the vehicle to a halt in front of their lodgings, she touched his hand on the wheel.
“I have no desire to be with anyone other than you and my Master, Niall. I am here for the two of you only, no matter what other engagements you desire.”
The words stuck in her throat, but she was here to serve. Never to make demands, never to have anything of her own. No possessions didn’t mean material items only, after all.
Though Niall put his other hand over hers, acknowledging the words, he said nothing himself. In fact, he immediately took his touch away, shutting down the RV.
The bungalow was a neat, small cottage. A wealth of flowers spilled off the porch rails from wooden boxes, while lush groupings of black-eyed Susans and various colorful flowers she didn’t yet know screened the foundation. Instead of balustrades supporting the porch rails, there were carved panels in between the main posts. A bear guiding her two cubs, a deer leaping over a stream, a hawk in flight. She expected they’d been done by colony residents.
“Is the art they have here very valuable?” she asked Evan. “Mel seemed well armed.”
“This is more than an art colony. It’s a sanctuary for women and children,” Evan said.
As Niall left the vehicle, Alanna watched him stride up the stairs to unlock the door, scope the interior. From the tense set of his shoulders, it was clear he wouldn’t welcome her assistance right now. Evan’s expression reminded her to let it be, so she focused on his explanation.
“Many of them are victims of domestic violence. Others have escaped countries where women don’t have basic freedoms, access to education, and this is a place of transition for them. It was a sanctuary before it was an art colony. Forty years ago, one of the women who came was a very gifted painter and sculptor. Initially, she developed art programs to help women and children deal with what had happened to them, or to express what they were becoming.” Warmth touched Evan’s serious gray eyes. “Some of the residents had the talents and desire to achieve commercial success. Out of those, a few returned to be permanent staff, to use this as their main studio while continuing to teach others the way she did.”
Alanna absorbed that. “Are there any men here, other than the two of you?”
“Yes. Else your suggestion wouldn’t have gotten under Niall’s skin.” Evan gave her a tight smile. “The colony’s population is about two hundred people. Twenty-eight are resident artists. They’re all women, ones who originally came here for sanctuary. Forty are maintenance, administrative and security staff, like Mel, with about fifteen of them being men. The founder of the sanctuary realized early on it was important to have men present who could be role models of how men should act toward women and children. Many of them serve under Mel as security, which proves there are men who take their well-being and protection very seriously.”
“Does the founder live here?”
“No. I’m sworn not to reveal his identity.” Evan squeezed her hand. “What he’s doing is not against the rules of our kind, but it’s a vulnerability to know too much about a vampire.”
The founder was a vampire? She looked toward the lit cottage. Niall was standing inside, studying something on the floor. Or perhaps he was staring into space, working through his thoughts. Glancing back at Evan, she saw he had his wrist resting comfortably along the top of her seat, his posture relaxed. It appeared he was giving his servant time to do just that.
“Master, may I ask you something?”
His gray eyes shifted to her. He could of course see the question in her mind, but seeing and responding to it were two distinct acts.
“You’ve asked me often what I want, but I wonder . . . what it is you want from me.”
The answer had been simple before she met them. A vampire wanted obedience, unquestioned loyalty. Immediate compliance to anything he demanded.
“Those are all good things. And you need to work on them.”
She flushed, knowing he was referring to the Trad, but on other things, he had to assume some fault, because he was asking her to break out of her mold, walk in territory she wasn’t used to treading.
She’d tried to squelch that, but when his gaze sparked with amusement, she knew she was all right. Though her working on a less vocal mind was probably starting to be on his list of desires.
“Most likely,” he responded dryly. Then he leaned forward, gazing into her face with such intensity she was tempted to look down, but she knew now when he wanted her meeting his eyes.
“I want you to live to be three hundred, Alanna,” he said. “I want you to have as full a life as Niall has had. And I want to do whatever is necessary to make that happen. But should that be beyond my abilities”—a muscle ticked in his jaw—“I want you to take what pleasure and happiness you can from what you’re given.”
She swallowed. It was the most generous thing anyone had ever said to her. But it wasn’t what she was seeking. Her real question was one she had no right to ask at all. Ironically, she’d never worried about the answer to it, until now. “You want me to embrace my feelings, my desires, my wants. You’ve demanded I act on them, instead of my training. I never thought I’d meet a vampire who . . . would make me want to demand the same from him.”
His brow arched, the gray eyes sharpening. “Demand?”
“I need to know what I have no right to know, Master. For me to make the most of that pleasure and happiness, I need to know how you feel.”
He shook his head. “The devil blesses a woman’s tongue to confound male senses. Niall used to say that, early in my service. I told him it was superstitious nonsense, but you’ve just rendered him speechless, and trapped me in my own clever and magnanimous verbiage.”
She suspected she was going to have a permanent blush, but still she persisted. “I’ve never wanted to be with a human not of our world, Master. I’ve always wanted this world, and to serve a vampire. What you are, what you feel, what you need. That’s my purpose . . . my desire. So I need the answer of the vampire, not the civilized man.”
He nodded. Considered. The veneer she’d sensed when he asked her if she wanted to have sex with another man dropped, the gray eyes steeling in a way that sent desire arrowing straight through her. He gave her a clear and ruthless answer.
“If you let another male touch you, other than Niall, I will take a belt to you in a way that will get me thrown out of here in a heartbeat, banned forever. And I won’t regret it a bit. Now, go make amends with Niall, because he feels exactly the same way.”
Something bloomed in her heart, an explosion of flowers like those in front of the cottage, a variety of shapes and colors, but all wondrous to experience. “Is Niall . . . all right with you touching me?”
A trace of humor cut through Evan’s hard look. “Reluctantly, I’m sure. But there’s nothing he can do about that, or I’ll take a belt to him as well. Or maybe a two-by-four. He’s a little more stubborn than you are. Or so I thought.”
With a grunt, he stood, pulling her out the opening between the front seats to direct her through the side door. Catching her waist, he skipped the steps, landing on the ground with her held against him. As he let her feet touch, he ran his hand down her back with not-so-casual ownership. “Enough of that, now. I’ll leave you two to set up house. My privilege, as lord of the manor, to avoid manual labor. We’ll be here awhile, so make it home. I liked the touches you put on the mountain cabin.”
As she glowed at the compliment, he gave her a fond pinch. “I’ll go speak to Miah and Nerida before Mel puts herself into a froth. She’s probably already called them twice to see if I’ve met with them.”
“Are they part of the security team?”
“Yes and no. They’re permanent residents here, and help in whatever way is needed.” He checked the tuck of his shirt, began to unroll his cuffs, but Alanna shook her head.
“They’ll be wrinkled, Master. I can prepare another shirt for you.”
“No, this will be fine.” As he raked his fingers through his hair, she feathered his bangs so he looked well tended. He gave her a smile. “You’re a treasure, yekirati. Now, so you won’t get alarmed when you sense them, Nerida and Miah are vampires. Except for those who serve their blood needs, we are the only ones here who know that.” He paused. “They were turned as children, Alanna. They’re in their seventies, but they’re physically trapped at those ages. Nerida looks six, Miah about twelve or thirteen.”