Taken by a Vampire (Vampire Queen) - By Joey W. Hill Page 0,183

the counter. He’d turned back the cellophane and was finishing what appeared to be his third or fourth helping. He nodded to the plate. “Nerida left us cookies. Better eat them now, because there won’t be any later.”

“Apparently,” she noted, trying to smile at him, reclaim their easy earlier state. He straightened.

“We’ll pull in his equipment first. I can get most of it if you’re tired. Or if you want tae rest up for whatever ‘extracurricular activities’ ye have planned.”

She narrowed her gaze. “You’re the one with extracurricular plans. Perhaps you should refuel with cookies while I unpack. I wouldn’t want her disappointed by your performance.”

Yes, she knew what Evan had said about old friends, but she hadn’t expected Niall to be nasty. Though his expression became more hostile, she bumped toes with him, glaring back. “I asked because I wanted to know what was expected. Not because I intended to go out and jump the first available male. I don’t want that.”

“But you’ll condemn me for it? Like I’m some sort of hoormaister? It’s only supposed to be about the vampire? His wants and needs?”

“To an InhServ, yes. You and Evan have your own ways. I expect he would prefer to have your full devotion, but—”

“Excuse me?” His brows knitted together, clouds drawing together before the storm. Crossing her arms, she took a step back, not in retreat, but to avoid a crick in her neck.

“It’s not an insult, Niall. Knowing you hold yourself only for his will, whether it’s to watch us with another, or for another purpose, but always to serve him—it says something.” She took a breath, trying to give him an earnest explanation. “It builds the bond, deepens it. Most vampires . . . when you give them your full devotion, there’s an energy to it. Like the slow anticipation of a climax, when Master is teasing you, keeping it out of reach until you think you’ll explode from it.”

“Aye, ye know so much about it. Your mindless devotion to Stephen was bloody perfection.”

She slapped him. When he caught her wrist, dragging her to him, she didn’t try to yank free, but stayed stiff and angry, her face close to his enraged one. They’d taught her expressing her emotions was acceptable, so she’d embrace the lesson.

“What Stephen was or wasn’t to me wasn’t relevant to my oath. I served him fully, no matter what. There was honor in that, purpose. Your debt of honor to Evan was the excuse for something you wanted but couldn’t give yourself.” Her voice had lifted to a near shout. She’d never shouted in her life.

Okay, maybe she was embracing the lesson a little too much. She pulled back. She wasn’t showing proper control, but beyond that, her anger would accomplish nothing in the face of his own temper. So she took it down a notch, speaking calmly despite the fact that she was hurt, a dull throb beneath her heart.

“You fear the risk I took with Stephen, but it’s nonsense. However wrong it was for me to wish for it, you have within your grasp what I hoped to have. You have it because you aren’t an InhServ.”

His gaze flickered with surprise, some of the anger chased away by it. Her lips quivered, then she firmed them, lifting her chin. “The irony of that isn’t lost on me. What I truly wanted may have been lost to me from the beginning. But I think if you had only a touch of what I am, you could let yourself love Evan the way you’ve always wanted. With everything you are. You think you betrayed your wife because you didn’t love her the way you love Evan now. So you withhold it, to punish you both.”

The flush in his cheeks drained away. As Niall stared at her, speechless, she realized she’d gone too far, said too much. Had she smashed a wall behind which he hadn’t even sensed the truth? Or had she simply hurt him to no purpose other than to assuage her own anger?

“Niall.”

He shook his head, a sharp slice of his hand silencing her. A hundred thoughts were moving behind his eyes. Perhaps he was right about the devil blessing a woman’s tongue. First she’d offended Evan by not trusting his judgment with the Trad, and now this. She wished they’d let her do self-flagellation, because she was sorely in need of it. Her emotions were so uncontained, the two she least wanted to offend kept getting caught