She was surrounded by exceptionally authoritative servants of late. Jacob, Gideon . . . Niall. That dynamic wasn’t uncommon in male vampire–male servant pairings, but it was for female vampire–male servant bonds. Another reason Lady Lyssa and Jacob were an anomaly.
“Yes, my lord.” She directed the response to the vampire. “But I can bear pain. I’ve no wish to inconvenience you any more than I have already.”
She sensed another exchange between the men. As Daegan’s fingers tightened over Gideon’s, a warning, she saw the servant bite back some comment, a flash in his blue eyes, though his temper didn’t seem directed at her or his Master.
“It’s important that we not disrupt the blocker, Alanna,” Lord Brian said. “Remember, physical or emotional stress can weaken its effect. Protecting your health and state of mind is how you can best serve us now.”
“Yes, my lord.” Daegan’s breath was on her neck, fangs unsheathing, such that she anticipated the pain as he sank into her flesh. However, the discomfort was less than expected, for he didn’t go as deep as a vampire went for a feeding. Of course. Lord Brian was monitoring her reaction; it was a clinical situation. To them, there was no intimacy in this exchange, no sexual significance to a deep penetration of fangs. But Lord Daegan’s body was powerful and warm behind her, Gideon’s hands against her flesh solid and real. Her body stirred to it, as it always did when she was serving a Master.
Not wanting to embarrass herself, she shifted into a meditative state, while staying tuned in to her surroundings. She’d stood behind Stephen at meetings for hours that way. Motionless and unobtrusive, until the vampires would turn their attention to entertainment, the highly politicized, sexual games she would perform with others at her Master’s direction.
Twelve servants . . . Her mind got trapped in the memory of that fateful dinner party after Adam’s death. A dozen closed in on her, took her down to the floor at the end, overcome by their lust, goaded by their Masters and Mistresses, until there was a screaming in her head she bit through her tongue to hold back. She blindly followed what was expected of her . . . her every orifice penetrated, her mouth working over cock after cock, tasting her own blood, each climax feeling like her heart was being torn from her chest, a betrayal so deep . . .
“Shhh . . .” Gideon’s lips brushed her cheek, taking away a tear as his Master finished, licked over the puncture wounds to coagulate the blood. Five minutes had passed without her even noticing. So much for staying tuned in to her surroundings.
“I’m all right,” she said, every muscle tightening up.
“Yes, you are.” Daegan ran a hand over her hair, a brief stroke down her back, flummoxing her. Had the assassin himself just reassured her? There was something to his tone, as if he’d learned something from tasting her blood. Something that had earned his approval.
“I won’t be far, Alanna,” he said. “Follow Lady Lyssa and Evan’s direction, and you’ll be fine.”
Of course she’d follow their direction. But she responded as she should. “Yes, my lord.”
When Daegan captured Stephen and the Council executed him, she would die, because a fully-marked servant’s life force was linked to her Master’s. But that wasn’t the end of it, was it? Servants were bound to their vampires in the afterlife, so she’d be with Stephen wherever he went, forever despised by him, forever a failure.
After they all left, she was back to waiting with her single suitcase. She touched that part of her cheek that Gideon’s mouth had touched, felt again the pressure of the male hands holding her up.
Realizing what she was doing, she stiffened as if the whip of the InhServ trainer had snapped across her shoulders. She was unacceptably unfocused. Dedication and duty were the two sides of the InhServ knife, both required to stay sharp. The InhServ discipline protocols would serve that purpose. Punishment, deprivation, reflection.