Taken by a Vampire (Vampire Queen) - By Joey W. Hill Page 0,36

I’m sorry, Alanna.

Pain . . . demand. Please. The natural response of her body to a Master’s demand came to her defense, to bear whatever a vampire needed her to bear. His apology wasn’t what she needed, and the plea was in her mind before she thought about the presumption of making it. But his fingers stilled for only a breath before he dug his fingers into her hair, drawing her head back, pulling against her scalp. “Let it flow through, Alanna,” he said, low and steady, those gray eyes dominating her vision. Dominating her, period. “Accept me as your Master.”

Niall captured both of her wrists, now crossed over her chest. His knuckles brushed the cleft between her breasts, and she arched into the strength of his hands. Had Evan spoken to the Scot directly, told him to increase the sense of restraint, or had he simply known? Somehow, she suspected the latter.

A relieved breath escaped her, even though it was thready, overcome by the pain. “Thank you, sir.”

It seemed to take the pain far longer to ebb this time, but agony was like that. She’d been at a vampire dinner once where they’d subjected the servants to a pain endurance test, and then asked the servant to guess how much time had passed while the pain was inflicted upon them. The one who guessed closest won a special prize for his Master or Mistress, a pretty silver goblet offered by the host. She’d won, because she’d counted every second off in her head, refusing to lose track, even through the application of the brands to the bottoms of her feet. They had healed in almost the same amount of time, the benefit of the third mark.

Opening her eyes, she saw Niall’s intent brown eyes, the set line of his jaw. His thumbs passed over her pulse again, making her lips part anew, the muscles in her thighs tremble.

All right, then, muirnín?

Evan had given his servant a direct line to her mind, at least for this moment, and knowing they were both there, that she was no longer alone in her head, was so overwhelming, she couldn’t speak, even as thought. She started trembling, her fingers curling over Niall’s, still holding her wrists.

It’s all right, yekirati. Shhh. We’re here.

Evan’s voice now. Never in her entire life had a vampire comforted her. Thanked her. Apologized to her. Evan had done all three in less than a day.

“So I require a great deal of training from my InhServ to meet proper standards?”

“No, sir . . . I could never . . .” Then she saw the gray eyes crinkling at the corners, though a serious cast remained to his features.

“That’s your job, isn’t it? Teaching a made vampire how to act more like a born vampire?”

Yes, but even when providing the most subtle guidance to Stephen, she did so from a kneeling position, her head bowed, always making it clear she was an instrument. A gift, like money or a title, that would help him ascend in the ranks of the vampires. At no time was the gift to appear superior to the one to whom she’d been given. In the end, she’d certainly not been a gift to Lord Stephen.

“I’m here to serve you however you require, Master.” He’d said she’d know when to call him that. She saw the dark brows knitting, lips firming in a way that made her want to touch his face, even if she’d never dream of doing that without being commanded.

Evan returned her to a vertical position, guiding her to put her arms around Niall’s shoulders again, only she was face-to-face with the Scot this time. As he guided her legs back to the ground he held on to her, because her legs were shaking. One large hand cupped her face, pressing her cheek to his shoulder as Evan redid her hair in a loose braid.

“‘And whenever a woman grows her hair, it is a glory to her, because her hair is given to her in place of a covering.’ In short, a veil to show her respect to God, to her Master.” The vampire stroked the shorter tendrils behind her ears, lingering on the delicate shell shape. Alanna stayed still, thinking she could remain like this forever. Their bodies and hands touching her, their voices in her mind. It was the safest she’d ever felt, in a world where she’d never thought to ask for sanctuary.

When she was at last steady enough for Niall