Taken by a Vampire (Vampire Queen) - By Joey W. Hill Page 0,98

himself, alpha in every respect. It made sense that vampires didn’t pick unappealing or ordinary servants; a human had to be extraordinary to desire three centuries of service to a vampire. But even for all that, the link between these two was unusual.

Covering a yawn, she set the book aside. She shouldn’t be tired, but the blocker she’d taken right before coming up here gave her that irritating burst of fatigue. Today, a nap would have to count toward her two hours.

She had no desire to pillow her head on a rock, though. She considered Niall. He’d worn those serviceable cargos that clung to his thighs, creasing around his groin. His T-shirt marked out the breadth of chest well, and her fingers wanted to touch.

She wanted to lie next to him. Wanted to be close to his heat. She thought of Evan coming to lie with them, as they had done in the bed, her in between them. Vampires didn’t cuddle, not to her experience. It was an unthinkable, nonpermissible thought, on so many levels, but with Niall, it might be acceptable.

Shifting closer, then to one hip, she moved as carefully as she had to avoid startling the mountain lion. A part of her was afraid if Niall woke up she’d be in transgression of something unforgiveable. She’d never reached out to anyone for affection, closeness.

She eased down next to him. His arm was over his head, making it easy to lay her head on his shoulder, inch her body closer. Putting a hand on his chest like a butterfly landing, she pressed her cheek to his shirt and inhaled his scent.

If only our Master were here with us, she thought. It would be perfect.

What makes you think I’m not, yekirati? The response made her jump, but Niall, muttering in his sleep, put his arm around her.

What does that mean . . . yekirati? And what you said the other night . . . einayim sheli . . . My metuka.

You have a good ear for languages. Your pronunciation was almost flawless. Yekirati is “dear one.” The rest . . . einayim sheli is “my eyes,” meaning very precious to me, and metuka is “sweet.”

Very precious to me. It was a simple endearment of course, but it still warmed her to hear it. She glanced down the pleasurable terrain of Niall’s body. Evan wasn’t looking at her, was in fact still working on his notebook, but there was a light curve to his mouth.

Do you still want to know about the first time Niall and I met?

Yes. I would like that. If it wouldn’t upset Niall. She usually only thought in terms of what would offend her Master, but it felt right to qualify it, given Niall’s earlier avoidance of the subject. Can I ask something else first? About your first kiss?

Possibly. Ask, and we shall see.

You were with him awhile before that. Why . . .

Why did I wait so long? It was a monumental test of my restraint, one he has never appreciated.

Glancing up, she saw wry amusement in his gray eyes. I wanted certain things to evolve in our relationship first. Create the proper setting, lighting. I was waiting for the muse to strike.

There’s a muse for that?

There’s a muse for everything. That’s what you learn over time. Every moment is rich with art and possibility, every interaction. But patience is key. And sometimes a tough skin, especially when dealing with an irascible Scot.

Alanna smiled. When Evan lifted his head, met her gaze briefly, her lips tingled under his regard, her smile replaced by more intent, heated things.

It wasn’t until she felt a provocative flush across every inch of the skin his gaze covered that he lowered his attention to his work again. But he didn’t break the connection between them. Instead, he began to paint in her mind as well, creating the picture of his first meeting with Niall and bringing it to vivid life for her.

12

THE Scot was looking for a campsite, too far away from home to get back tonight. Evan followed his human scent to a rocky glen, a deep creek running through it. There were a few soft spots near the bank to roll up in his plaid and sleep. Evan didn’t detect a fresh kill, so it seemed the man hadn’t had any hunting luck, despite ranging so far afield. If he had caught something, he’d be on the way back home with it, no matter the distance or time of