white knuckles. She couldn’t dare to hope. Couldn’t breathe at all.
“Evan, it’s obvious you are the Master she prefers to serve.” Lyssa was addressing her Master. “Do you have anything to add to the case to claim her?”
Evan stepped forward. As he did, he extended his arm, tapped a long finger on her clasped hands. A gentle reproof that made her spread her fingers on her lap. Niall was standing directly behind her now, such that she could feel his breath on her bare head.
“Alanna would be of great value to any vampire Master. There is no politic reason for you to assign her to me.” Evan swept them all in his glance. “My desire to have her as my servant has no political agenda to it, either. Yet she is a muse in human form, inspiring my work, for what value that may provide to you. She loves me, and she loves Niall. There are matters to discuss that bear weight on that.” He glanced at Niall, then back at the Council. “I can tell the Council this. If she is granted to me, I will care for her as the treasure she is.”
Lyssa nodded. “Thank you, Evan. Alanna may return to the infirmary, and your servant with her. Please remain, so we may discuss this further with you.”
Evan nodded to Niall, who put his hand under her arm to help her from the chair. Alanna shifted forward, but instead of rising, she began to sink to her knees. Her desperate pressure on Niall’s hand told him she intended it, and the Scot anticipated her enough to ease her down, rather than letting her drop like a bundle of sticks.
Once down on her knees she bent, ignoring the trembling weakness of her body, the pain rocketing through her head, but she couldn’t overcome the wheezing of her lungs. Though she wanted to make it to his feet, she had to settle for pressing her lips to Evan’s leg, just below his knee. The wool and silk of the slacks, his scent intertwined with it, was so overwhelming to her she had the resist the desire to rub against him like a cat.
“Whatever happens,” she whispered, “thank you for being my Master.”
I’ve always served vampires I called my lord or my lady. They were powerful, yes. But they . . . I am going to be inappropriate, Master, but please forgive me. They never taught me what love is. You and Niall did, both by your example and by your lessons. If I die tomorrow, these few days will be the ones I will cherish . . . and miss, the most. Thank you for showing me what being a servant really means.
She felt the scrutiny of the Council, but the only regard that meant anything to her now was Evan’s. As she managed to lift her head, she saw his jaw was tight, the gray eyes full of emotion he was struggling to push back. But it didn’t matter now, for either of them, did it?
Despite her noise of protest, he lifted her in his arms, putting her into Niall’s. For one blissful moment, perhaps the last, both men were holding her, the three of them linked. Evan brushed his lips across both of her cheeks, made sure Niall had her securely before he removed his grip.
“Take her back to her bed,” he said. “I’ll join you both directly.”
Evan paused in the doorway to the infirmary. Niall sat in a chair by the window. Alanna was curled in his lap, looking out at the white moonflowers cultivated in the gardens. With a painful tightness in his chest that had become a constant companion, he saw Niall had dozed off, his head resting against the back of the chair, temple pressed inside one of the wings. Alanna slid her fingers along his chest, idle patterns as she stared out into the night, her thoughts entirely her own for the first time in over a decade.
He’d been simply overcome by her in Council chambers. She might be humbled to know that, but what would stun her was that she’d wrested a similar reaction from the Council.
Brilliant girl that she was, she’d honored her training and taken it to a new level, marrying desire to service. Weak as a baby, showing just how close to the Grim Reaper’s blade she stood, she’d conducted herself with calm dignity and an unconditional sincerity that proved why she should be servant of the highest and