Vampire Instinct
Page 3

It was also at those weak moments she wondered if Danny was right in her first thinking, that they should have been put down.
Elisa closed her eyes. No. She couldn’t bear to think that. It couldn’t all be for nothing.
As Elisa got off of the plane, she looked for him, this Malachi. He was not a Region Master or even an overlord, so he bore no lord or ladyship title as did Lady Danny. Elisa decided she would address him as Mr. Malachi until he indicated otherwise. She wasn’t unhappy about Thomas’s presence with her, though. The weight he brought as Lady Lyssa’s human servant—Lady Lyssa being Region Master of the southern United States, as well as a consultant to the current Vampire Council and the last royal blood of the vampire clans—would be helpful, even knowing Thomas would not stay long from Lyssa’s side. Three days . . . She had to convince Malachi to let her stay, to convince Danny it was okay as well.
For one thing, she couldn’t bear to go back to the station and see the empty spot that should have been Willis. Riding the stock in, or whittling in a chair leaned back against the barn. Tipping his hat to her with a lazy smile when she came out to beat the rugs. If she went back, she’d have nothing to do but be a maid. Having the children had filled her days and nights. It kept her from thinking so much.
Once being around vampires, it wasn’t difficult to spot one. The exceptionally graceful, predatory way they moved, the intense focus of the eyes. And of course, every single one of them was beautiful beyond words. It should get tiresome, her senses unaffected by it. Perhaps because of his unexpected appearance, that wasn’t the case when the island’s owner strode toward the plane.
Even the untitled vampires she’d met took care to appear as aristocracy. Well dressed, well-groomed, well-spoken. Most had lived long enough to accumulate money, education, making themselves appealing to human prey if they didn’t have a servant for a regular blood source. In contrast, Mr. Malachi wore jeans and work boots, an untucked and snug-fitting dark T-shirt. The outfit was no more formal than what Dev or Willis might have worn for their stockman duties. Black hair, unruly and brushing his shoulders, looked like a lion’s mane. He had an aquiline nose, the features of a hawk. He was an Indian.
When Danny bought her a book about the United States, they’d compared Western Australia with the American Wild West. In the pictures of the natives whose tribes had once been scattered over the United States, the resemblance was unmistakable.
A black stone carving of a cat, threaded on a braided strip of leather and worn around his neck, only added to the impression, as well as some kind of tattoo on his biceps that involved a barbed wire pattern twined with feathers. When she at last focused on his dark brown eyes, she saw he possessed a predator’s strength and authority in his focus, but it was far more . . . primal. None of the vampires was exactly what she’d call gentle or safe, but he had an untamed look that said he’d always be more at home among wild animals in a dense forest than among his own kind. A strange thought.
He stopped before them, gave Thomas a curt nod. “My greetings to your lady.”
“And hers to you. She thanks you for assisting Danny.” Thomas cleared his throat, his gaze flashing with amusement. “She says one of these days she expects you to stop playing with your kittens long enough to visit a cat with real claws.”
“It may take me a century or two to find that kind of courage.”
Elisa drew in a breath, not expecting the quick flash of a male grin that showed fang tips. But then Malachi’s glance turned toward her, and the deceptively approachable expression was gone. “Where are the fledglings?”
“They’re in the plane,” she said. “We didn’t wish to unload the children until—”
“They are not children, girl.” He cut across her. “You are a child. They are vampires. For the very brief time you’ll be here, you will not call them children.”
“You haven’t even met them yet,” she retorted. “You don’t know what they are or aren’t.”
“Elisa.” Thomas put a quelling hand on her shoulder, but Malachi had already stepped forward, bumping her toes, moving her back a step with his greater height. He wasn’t heavily muscled, but there was a lean, tensile strength to him that suggested he spent a great deal of time doing manual labor. Another thing vampires didn’t do. But daring a brief look into his face, she revised her earlier opinion. He might be different, but she saw that full blast of dominant authority a vampire could quickly bring to bear in the face of a challenge by a weaker opponent. What was the matter with her? She’d been trained better than this, but they’d barely stepped foot off the plane and now he assumed—
He settled a strong hand on her throat, tipping her chin up. She froze all over. “In time, I will ask you questions, and I will hear your thoughts. But I’ll make the decisions, and you’ll follow them instantly. You will not question me. If you have difficulty with that, I’ll stick you back on this plane and we’ll cut our three-day ordeal two days shorter. Understood?”
“Mal,” Thomas said. Malachi cocked his head toward him. Only a faint flicker showed in Thomas’s face, but the vampire glanced back down at her. Then his hand was gone and he’d taken a step back. While his face remained implacable, she realized why Thomas had spoken. She was shaking, and there was a swirling panic in her chest threatening to cut off her air flow.
Damn it. Firming that chin he’d handled so familiarly, ignoring the quaver in her voice, she spoke. “Mr. Malachi, I’ve served vampires for a few years now. I’ll have no problem being respectful and obedient to your wishes, but I also have a responsibility to these . . . young vampires. They’re mine,” she added with a determined stare that locked with his gaze, despite the breach of vampire-human etiquette. I’ve paid in blood for the privilege.
Danny had described Elisa as an obedient and efficient servant, naturally submissive. She was trembling like a leaf, her hands knotted together like a frayed rope. When he’d stepped into her space, she’d given every indication she’d bolt, but she’d dug in and stood fast under his touch. She had soft skin. Her curling dark brown hair might fall to her shoulders if she freed it from its pins. Those large jewel-blue eyes were drowning in emotions.
This was the one who had been violated. Christ. Her foolish defiance had driven it right from his mind. He took stock of the paleness from recent serious injury, the flash of automatic terror at an aggressive, unknown male. Danny was a fool for permitting her to come. She wasn’t up for this. Grudgingly, though, he acknowledged the fortitude it had taken to make this kind of trip and to continue to champion them.
On the other hand, she could be a complete mental case. A smile tugged at his lips, unexpected. One could say the same of a vampire who chose to live away from his own kind and play nursemaid to “kittens,” as Lyssa had taunted him.
How many scars had healed on his body from his missteps with his cats? At the beginning, while he was learning their ways, how often had he gone down under them? He could be considered prey with one wrong communication of body language or scent. It was unexpected to see that same history in her eyes, misguided though it was. A vast difference existed between a vampire’s mind and a cat’s. And a woman’s was entirely incomprehensible.
“You’re absolutely correct. I’ve not yet met them.” Gesturing, he directed her toward the plane. “Take me to them.”
2
AS Elisa turned, drawing a steadying breath, she almost choked on it again as his hand grazed the small of her back. If a human male had done it, it would have meant nothing, a courtesy. However, with vampires, touch always conveyed sensual intent, exploration, no matter how dispassionate it seemed on its face.
The first time she’d met Lady Danny, the woman had kissed her. Though it was a mere brush of lips, it had been the way a man kissed a woman, and Elisa’s Catholic background crackled up like paper being eaten by flame. Like getting poison ivy or having the sniffles during the blooming season, it was something a human couldn’t control. She told herself that as a shiver of reaction spread out like teasing feathers all around that incidental touch.
Willis had been dead all of a few weeks, for Heaven’s sake. Yes, they’d had just a couple kisses and all, but still, he’d been thinking about forever. For keeps. And so had she. A family, a home, maybe children of her own one day . . . Those thoughts proved her body’s reaction didn’t mean anything. She didn’t even know why she was worrying about it, beyond the sensible concern Mr. Malachi might think that, because she was Danny’s second-mark, he was allowed liberties. She couldn’t let that fluster her right now, though.
They ascended the ramp to the cargo area, the efficient and well-armed crew nodding to Thomas, since this was of course his lady’s plane. Malachi preceded her into the hold. She would have preferred to lead, reassure the children. Because of their experience with Lord Ruskin, male vampires could agitate them into full-blown hysteria. But Thomas gripped her elbow.
“Remember his warning, Elisa,” the monk murmured. “He’s in charge here. Trust Lady Danny’s wisdom in this. Mal knows what he’s about.”
Mal strode into the cargo area and came to a halt, gazing about the silver semicircle of cages. The six reacted in myriad ways to his arrival. Three bolted to the backs of their cages, silent, skulking shadows. In contrast, the one who looked the oldest moved forward, baring fangs. Holy Christ, Ruskin had taught them nothing. Their fangs couldn’t retract, were permanently locked like saber-toothed tigers. The sickness that twisted in his gut now was what Mal felt when a half-starved juvenile lion was brought in, some misguided idiot’s pet or the whipped failure of some circus. He had an active dislike for humans, but before him was the reminder that malicious brutality and unforgivable ignorance weren’t limited to them.
That didn’t change what needed to be done here, though, so he made sure neither his scent nor his expression emanated such sympathy. Instead, he glanced at one of the handlers. “How do you open the cages?”