crumbling, she was so well-trained she wouldn’t cringe. There was a personal pride in that, whether she acknowledged it or not.
Niall returned with his heavy coat. Putting it on her shoulders, he threaded her arms into the sleeves that swallowed her, then rubbed them briskly to keep them warm. She kept her eyes on the ground. It would take more, perhaps one more push. Evan stood in the maelstrom of her mind, watching the conflicting emotions churn around him like the storm he’d once experienced in Darwin, Western Australia. Every flash of lightning had been like a Titan’s hand striking marks against the sky. He’d wondered if they would split the firmament and show the divine face that hid behind it, pulling all the strings.
Rising from the bench, he moved toward her until the tips of his shoes were in her view. He slid his hands under the heavy mass of wet hair, used his hold on it to tilt her head up.
“Look at me, Alanna.”
She had a doll’s eyes. She’d retreated from the pain, the confusion. But he was inside her mind; she couldn’t retreat from that. He thought about the third mark, what it would be like to stand inside this woman’s soul, and felt a sudden hard desire for it. To own her completely. To ensure she knew exactly what it meant to be cared for. To be cherished by a vampire Master.
She had a wealth of sexual skills, but had never been given the opportunity to enjoy and participate, to develop her own desires and wants. Stephen was a single-minded ass.
Framing her face in his hands, he leaned down. Paused a hair’s breadth from her lips. “Kiss me, Alanna. Explore my mouth the way you’d like to do it. It’s your true first kiss. You can do nothing wrong, as long as I’m getting the pleasure of your mouth.”
His fingers teased the corners of her eyes, took away a few tears. “Stop your crying,” he added curtly. “You’re tearing my heart from my chest.”
Her eyes widened at that, but then she pressed her lips together. As she considered his words, the doll look started to fade. It was a hushed moment in the universe, time stretching out like the heartbeats between those Darwin lightning strikes.
Lifting onto her toes, swaying unsteadily, she put her lips on his, a light and tentative touch. She tasted him. Nibbled. The tip of her tongue darted forth to touch his mouth. It took tremendous effort to rein back his natural dominance to take over, have her beneath him, but he managed it. As much as he wanted to be inside her, he wanted to see her take this step.
It was too much for her. The storm howled, intensified, sweeping into the marrow of her shaking bones, gripping her heart so strongly she made a sound of pain. She pulled back. As her eyes filled anew, she shook her head. “I can’t. I can’t want anything. I wish Stephen had killed me.”
At the broken declaration, she bolted, tearing herself from his grasp. She ran back into the house in the oversized coat, the fist she put against her mouth not enough to hold back sobs.
Niall stood tensely next to him. “You’re a total bastard,” his servant said. “But a smart one.”
“There’s not much difference between a smart bastard and a fucking sadist. Give her a few minutes, then go to her. Make sure she’s okay.”
“Think that helped?”
“Maybe. She chose to run, and she’s never run from a vampire. That in itself means something. Sometimes things become clearer after a hard storm.”
“Unless the storm destroys everything. They made her too fragile, Evan.”
“Well, that’s why she has us, right?” Evan arched a brow at him. “We protect her, help her get stronger.”
Niall gave him a short nod, strode toward the house. The irritable set of the broad shoulders was easy enough to read. It was torment, trying to help her embrace a life all odds said she wouldn’t be given. But though Niall might rail against it, Evan knew they had no choice but to try, because it was the right thing to do.
And Niall never turned away from that.
Stripping off her clothes in her room, Alanna rubbed herself hard with a towel. She was not going to curl up on the bed to cry. She’d handled all that badly, but she could pull it back together. Yanking on dry clothing, she picked up her brush, turning it over in her hand. The way