Taken by a Vampire (Vampire Queen) - By Joey W. Hill Page 0,113

like him. You’re thinking o’ what he’d enjoy seeing ye wear, and that makes you feel guid, makes you anticipate what he might like. He’d be fine with that. Long as the feeling’s true.”

Maybe her reaction had alarmed him, such that he was merely soothing her, but his words did make sense. “It is. I do . . . like him. Is that how you do it . . . how you make choices? Do you dress for his pleasure?”

“Aye. My platform heels and baby-doll nightgown drive him insane with lust.”

She tried to cover her startled laugh, but he took her fingers away, held both her hands.

“’Tis just shopping, lass. Picking out a frock. Let’s get on with it, aye? A lad loses a pint of testosterone for every minute he’s in a woman’s clothing store. If we dinnae go soon, I’ll be eyeing the purses and stockings.”

Nodding, she let him help her to her feet. He plucked the first dress she’d chosen from her hands. “Why did ye think he’d like this one?”

“The splashes of color on the skirt are like marks from a paintbrush, so the flared hem will set them off well when I move. The pattern on the bodice is from a Monet print.” She gave him a small smile. “And the neckline will show cleavage.”

“Sounds bonny, but this one will show off even more of everything.” He plucked a leopard-skin print tube dress off a rack. The short skirt had a hip-high slit in the side. “With these earrings.” From a display on top of the rounder he unhooked a pair of large orange plastic ones, shaped like stars.

“You are teasing me.” She elbowed him in the hard stomach, made him put the dress back.

“I’ll go into the dressing room and watch you put it on.”

She arched a brow. “What if Master commanded you to go into the dressing room with me, but you were only allowed to sit in a chair and watch, not touch me? What would you say to that?”

First she’d teased him about the bikini, now this. She wasn’t sure who’d taken over her mouth, but she knew who took over her senses in the next second when his tawny gaze kindled. He leaned down, his lips nearly brushing hers, and she stopped breathing, except for the necessary pleasure of inhaling him.

“I’d say ‘Master’ isnae around to stop me from doing whatever I like. I’ll gladly take his punishment later.” His arm around her waist, he drew her to him, putting his lips back to that same spot on her throat, nose pushing aside her ponytail so he could tease her with his tongue, tracing her collarbone. He dropped his touch, taking a firm grip of her ass to press her against him. He was hardening under his jeans. Even without Evan providing the conduit, she could visualize what Niall wanted to do to her in the dressing room.

“We’re in a public place,” she whispered, clutching his upper arms. If it was Evan, she would provide no resistance regardless, but the few functioning brain cells she had left told her Evan might not be overly pleased to have to get them out of jail.

“I’d fuck you right here, to make it clear you’re taken property.”

Despite her best efforts at decorum, the weight of his desire swept her away, and not just his alone. You’re ours. He’d said that, and she felt it now, a sense of duality that she wasn’t sure he even realized was part of his personality, so closely connected to the vampire’s. He’d fuck her for himself, but also for Evan, staking his claim right alongside his own. Was it because even in his dreams, Evan registered a moment like this and made his presence felt in his servant’s mind, such that Niall’s subconscious and Evan’s were almost one and the same?

Niall’s aggressiveness made her feel . . . powerful. Sexy and desirable as well, and not just because she was groomed to be that way. It was how they made her feel, not her endless supply of beauty products and stringent exercise regimen. Was that what Evan had been trying to tell her?

Together they were teaching her to express passion in a way she’d never experienced before. Unsettled, she extricated herself from Niall to gather up the dress and her several other choices—but not the leopard print. When she hurried toward the dressing room, Niall was sauntering after her, casual as a stalking tiger. She would have