Taken by a Vampire (Vampire Queen) - By Joey W. Hill Page 0,12

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“What’s this writing? Beneath it?”

“My InhServ mark. The fleur-de-lis is enclosed by the motto Forever Bound; Blood, Body and Soul.”

Her voice was flat, though he expected at one time she’d explained it with reverence or even pride. Dropping to one knee, he eased up the hem of her skirt. Her knees and calves were raw and abraded from the sharp bits, but the few cuts were minor, as she said. Not like her arm. The blocker Lord Brian was giving her was likely impeding her third-mark ability to heal any wound quickly, but perhaps when Evan second-marked her, it would help.

Niall wrapped his fingers around her leg above her knee, noting how his rough, tanned fingers looked against that supple, silken flesh. Christ, she was a beauty, but she seemed more fragile now than when she’d been screaming and raging, Stephen doing his best to break her mind.

By walking on eggshells, he was making it worse. Well, hell with it. Evan always said he had more intuition than brains.

“Our Master doesnae like a servant hurting herself without his say so,” he said brusquely. “Ye haven’t earned a punishment from him; dinnae do this to yourself again. Aye?”

She became paler, as if she’d been chastised severely. Damn it all. Gripping her shoulders from his kneeling position, a fairly easy thing given his height, he gave her a little shake. “Can you tell stories? Sing a bit?”

“I’m trained in all the cultural arts. Yes.”

“Guid. It’s a long flight, muirnín. Perhaps ye could tell me a story or two to put us down for a nap, so the jet lag willnae catch us. It’s not an order,” he added gently. “Just an idea to keep us both busy. I know this is bloody awkward for you. If you’d rather read a book or be silent as a stone, that’s fine.”

“It would be my pleasure to tell you stories.”

Apparently giving her something to do settled her. Poor lass was a duck out of water and trying to paddle her way through sand.

“All right, then. If ye run out of tales to tell, I ha’ drinking songs from every country Evan and I have visited. And I bray like a mule. They’re bawdy songs, mostly about beautiful, big-breasted women and their highly unlikely encounters with sweaty sailors. The pilot will crash the plane to shut me up.”

Not a hint of a smile in her sad eyes. Niall wondered if Evan had made a decision out of his depth, but she’d stilled under his touch, called him Master. He had that unexpected way about him, Evan did, though Niall didn’t spend a lot of time dwelling on it. He also remembered how Alanna had looked up at him. Even in her delirium, Niall had seen fire, need, courage. Yearning.

He’d wager good money she hadn’t flinched from his touch because of some bullshit InhServ rule. She’d remembered the infirmary, how she had responded to their touch, and had been startled to feel that same reaction now.

Testing it, he put a firm hand to the small of her back as he guided her out the door. Another ripple went through her lovely body, warming his palm against her.

Nothing for it. First a plane trip, then they’d see where the day took them.

When she’d told him she was “trained in the cultural arts,” he hadn’t realized what that meant. After he settled them into the private plane and told her he’d have his story now, it was like putting a quarter into a mannequin. She flipped from detached silence into a vivid tale of the Otherworld travels of Thomas, the famous Scottish bard who reputedly became a favorite of the Fae queen.

Complete with voices and expressive gestures, Alanna gave him an excellent version of one of Thomas’s adventures in the monarch’s service. Her mesmerizing narration, coupled with the lass’s exceptional beauty, had him damn near speechless. Even their flight attendant was a wide-eyed listening child, her hands resting motionless on the beverage tray she’d been organizing when Alanna started.

Yet when Alanna was done, the lass settled back into her seat and folded her hands, unresponsive to the appreciation he and the attendant expressed. “Do you wish another?” she asked. His quarter paid for the story, no more, no less. Though he should listen to Evan’s advice and let the lass be, leaving her stewing in her own head didn’t sit well.

“How about I do one instead, give your throat a rest?”

He’d noticed her getting hoarse, was merely being courteous,