Taken by a Vampire (Vampire Queen) - By Joey W. Hill Page 0,21

is my full name. When I was born, it was Eitan ben Samuel, so you might see some correspondence from older friends—much older friends—with that name on the address. I Anglicized it after my father’s death. Bad luck while he’s living. Old superstition, but then, I am old.” Evan flashed teeth at her, a bare hint of fang, and his hand on her waist tightened. “Four hundred and something . . . Since I turned two hundred, I only track the numbers that end with two zeros.”

She blinked, nodded, because that seemed the appropriate response.

“I spend a great deal of time around humans, compared to other vampires, so you’ll call me Evan,” he added. Then he tipped up her chin, capturing her in that gaze. “When it’s time to call me Master, you’ll know it.”

“Yes, Mas— Evan.”

“Good.” Releasing her, he turned back to his task, but she noticed he took his support away gradually, making sure she was firm on her feet. She wasn’t, but she managed to stand upright regardless, shifting away from the ladder so Niall could join them when he desired to do so. The scent of the chemical bath was distinct but not unpleasant. The dim light glimmered across the series of trays in which photo paper floated, shapes slowly coming into focus. Stepping forward to study one, Evan reached for a pair of tongs, using them to transfer the picture into a different tray. “Has Niall given you the information you need?”

Panic tripped through her chest. Had she missed a step? “Sir?”

Evan glanced toward the ladder. Niall was now leaning against it, the trapdoor closed above him. She hadn’t even heard him come down. He moved like a scout for an invading army, even more silently than she was used to third marks moving. His eyes were darker in the dim light, the broad planes of his face even more rugged. “She didn’t have any questions, except how best to serve you.”

“I’m sure Niall told you he was not the best source for that.” Evan studied the contents of another tray, checked his watch. “Another minute or two,” he mused. Then he looked toward her again. “He didn’t tell you what he said, did he? The first time I called our view the Atheist Test?”

She looked at Niall, then back at Evan. “No, sir.”

“All it proves is God likes to pick up a paintbrush,” Niall said. “Just like Evan, He may not be guid for much else than pretty pictures.”

Though she was astounded by the disrespect, Evan bared his fangs at his servant, a feral smile. “But you didn’t refute the theory. Whether you think He’s an inept deity or not, you don’t deny His presence in your life.”

“No more than I deny when there’s a thorn stuck in my arse,” Niall said mildly.

Evan lifted a brow, but shifted his attention back to Alanna. “You are an exceptionally intelligent woman, Alanna. A very accomplished one. I’m certain you realize we are a far cry from what you’ve known. Much of your training may not apply here. Plus the circumstances are somewhat different.”

The tray at the far end of the table had caught his attention. As he shifted to stand before it, he fell silent, studying what was coming into form there. He braced his knuckles on the table and picked up another set of tongs, swishing the paper in the bath. When Alanna looked toward Niall, hoping for some cue, Niall put a finger to his lips, indicating she should wait. She could do that. She was exceptionally good at waiting.

“I’m charged to keep you on the outer fringes of Stephen’s radar, while the Council hunts that benzona.” Evan at last spoke, setting aside the tongs, though he kept his gaze on the picture. “While you are to behave as my servant, it’s a temporary situation. The place for your beauty and talents is not among the peasantry, but available to vampires far more ambitious than I. My job is to keep you safe until that happens.”

She was caught up in determining what a benzona was—from the slight edge in his voice, something not complimentary—and the flow of his voice. It reminded her of a classical guitar piece, the melody interspersed with deeper bass tones. However, his last sentence broke her out of the dangerous reverie. Surely he realized once Stephen was caught, he would be executed, and she would die with him? Lord Brian’s blocker didn’t change that. However, since her personal fate did