She’d damn well exceeded expectations in that department.
“All right this morning?”
Mel was at her shoulder, but when the woman reached out to touch her, Alanna shifted out of range. She covered it with a courteous nod. “Yes, ma’am. Thank you. Is there anything you require?”
“Just wanted to be sure everything’s right in your world. You looked a little . . . intense. If there’s anything that’s worrying you, you can feel as comfortable coming to me for help as you do your Mas—Evan. Especially if it’s daylight or Niall isn’t readily at hand. Keeping this place safe is my number one priority, and you’re part of that until you leave. I’m here for you as much as anyone, Alanna. All right?”
“Thank you. That’s very kind.” Surprised at the woman’s sincerity, Alanna still took a deeper inhale, under the guise of a relieved sigh. She didn’t detect Niall’s scent on the woman. Of course, Mel would have showered, and Alanna’s third-mark senses were muted by the damn injection.
“Niall and I shared a bottle of Jack last night. You’ve got him tied up in knots. He’s even a little goofy, teenaged-boy stupid.” Mel flashed a grin. “We’ve been fuck buddies in the past, because he’s just a pure pleasure in that department, but his mind was all about you. I got a kiss or two and a squeeze of his fine ass, but I didn’t ask for more. His heart wasn’t in it. He mainly needed a drinking companion.”
Alanna blinked. “I . . . I have no hold on him. He is free to . . .”
“Save it, sister.” Mel nudged her, picked up one of the lemonades Alanna had just poured. “You were ready to throw down just now. I wouldn’t mind seeing your capabilities in that department, because you look like a lightweight to me, all that pretty hair and long lashes.” She flicked the former with a casual finger. “So, you want a wrestling match? I have a bet with the girls over at the table about how long you’d last.”
“I . . . No. I’m fine.”
“You can’t hurt me. I’m a third mark.” Her gaze swept over Alanna. “Not that I think that really matters.”
“I’ve been trained to fight.”
“Training and doing are two different things. I teach women self-defense here, but I also give them an outlet. They get surly with one another, I bring them to the sparring mats, let them work it out. Makes things move a lot smoother. An out-and-out fistfight works better than a catfight any day. Want to get rid of what’s griping your gut, like me putting hands on your man?”
He wasn’t her man, though she liked the way it sounded so much she turned away to pour Frank’s glass. “The one you’re drinking is Niall’s.”
“His loss.” Mel took several more healthy swallows. “Besides, he owes me. Despite his sighing over you, I did give him some relief. There’s something to be said for being all female, but having the grip of a man, if you get my meaning.”
Alanna narrowed her eyes as the woman sauntered away. Was Mel deliberately picking a fight? Mel confirmed it, glancing over her shoulder and rolling her eyes.
“You need a written invitation, girl?” she muttered. “Show him what you got.”
Niall knew her combat abilities. Still . . . As Alanna waffled, Mel put down the now-empty glass and looked across the compound where the men were working on the roof. “He’ll be ready for a break soon. I might just saunter over, take some of that sweat off with my tongue. He’s real sensitive around his throat. Can’t imagine why. You know, there’s a nice, shady spot behind that building, right up against the wall . . .”
Alanna hit her midbody. Mel was standing on the edge of the shelter, such that the difference in grade was enough to make her stumble. She recovered fast, catching Alanna around the body as she turned, tumbling them both into the grass. They rolled, pulled apart, but before Mel could recover her feet, Alanna followed up with a blow to the midriff, a sharp punch that hit where that lemonade had gone. Of course, Mel was a full servant, and things like that wouldn’t slow her down as much. She tackled Alanna with the advantage of sheer mass, and they rolled across the grass again.
When they regained their feet and danced apart, Alanna stripped off her overshirt, revealing the dark tank beneath. Mel got in a face punch, but Alanna swept her leg, landing on top of her again.
In some strange way, Mel was her ally, but Alanna was seeing red. A kiss or two . . . She visualized Niall kissing this woman the way he kissed her, Mel’s hands touching him where Alanna’s had. At a vampire gathering, she and Niall would touch other servants at the whim of their Master, but he’d chosen to touch this woman. Or to let her touch him. Pounding on Mel was a different approach from the rice, but one Alanna found she immensely preferred.
She managed a few more solid punches before she was plucked off the woman like a toddler.
“Here now, enough o’ that,” Niall scolded her, inserting his body between the two women when Mel sprang to her feet, blood in her gaze. “What’s got into ye?”
“It’s more like what got into me,” Mel scoffed. Alanna lunged past Niall, her fist whizzing so close to Mel’s nose the woman had to jerk her head back. The dark eyes laughed at her. Gave her a wink. “Pretty effective moves, Barbie. I’m impressed.”
“You’re testing her fighting skills?” Niall, keeping a firm hold on Alanna, gave her a glare.
“Yeah. And no. It’s a girl thing.” She nodded to Alanna. “You’ll need to make some more of that lemonade. You used up the last of it.” Picking up the other glass Alanna had poured for Frank, the security woman strolled off, offering a friendly smile to the table of staff members.
“What’s all this about, lass?” Niall gave her a shake. “I sent ye for lemonade, and you’re causing a row.”
“She started it. I’ll get you some more. Since she drank all of it, it will take a few minutes.” Tossing him a glare, Alanna stomped toward the canteen kitchen. At the swinging door, she spun on her toe. “I’ll bring it when it’s ready. Mel says there’s a nice shady spot behind the cottage you’re roofing.”
When she disappeared behind the door, she heard him speak to Frank, who’d come to investigate as well. At the sound of the two of them moving away, her shoulders eased. She shook her head at herself, then for some inexplicable reason, a smile crossed her face. Despite his irritation, Niall had looked impressed. She was a servant, not a doormat.
She’d also give Mel credit. The “bringing it to the mat” idea worked wonders. She felt much lighter than she had after she’d woken.
She found the men behind the cottage, lounging on the grass beneath leafy red maples. Colors had started changing for the fall, but the leaves weren’t yet dropping, except for a few that added to the comfort of their mattress. More self-conscious now, she handed Frank the lemonade, nodding at his courteous thanks. She was aware of the muscular redhead’s appraisal as she turned, but nothing that would be considered inappropriate or rude. When she went to Niall, her lowered gaze traveled over the big feet, the long denim-clad legs, the curve of groin below his belt and impressive bare terrain of muscle above it that mapped his upper body.
Yes, he was easy on the eyes, as Mel had made irritatingly clear. He had the overshirt she’d discarded, was idly rubbing the fabric between his fingers. “You have dirt on your cheek, and your hair is mussed,” he noted. “As particular as ye are about a napkin on the floor, I expected you’d tidy up after a scuffle.”
“You can drink this or wear it,” she responded. When he grinned, the sheer sensual impact of it proved to be too much. Heedless of Frank’s presence, she straddled him, sitting down on his lower abdomen. His hands landed on her calves, following her legs up to slip his thumbs beneath the hemmed cuffs of her shorts as she settled. When she put the cold glass against his chest, his skin shuddered like a horse’s flank.
Collecting some of the condensation dripping from the side, she painted it along his flesh like Evan might. As she followed the flat curve of his nipple, she watched it respond, draw up at her touch. In the end, the jealousy had only been a mask for the real issue. She’d missed his scent in the bed, his heat and strength. His closeness. She was far too aware of how short a time she was likely to have that pleasure. She wished he was in her mind so he could hear the thought, but she put it in her touch, her eyes. She wanted him to see it. She wanted him, period.
“Frank,” he said casually, “think you could take your lemonade elsewhere for a bit?”
“Sure.” The man’s amusement was obvious. “Ma’am.”
As soon as he was around the corner of the house, Niall’s hand closed around her wrist. His mouth was a firm, sensual curve. “You’re being very forward, lass.”
“You didn’t come to bed last night.”
“I thought I might be skewered.” His smile became rueful. “I drank too much, muirnín. For a third mark, that’s saying something. I wasnae much company for anyone. Mel left me sleeping in the field above the lake. Woke up with ants crawling in my arse.”
“You could have come home.” She touched his face with the other hand. “I’m here. Evan and I are here. I need you to . . .”
He took the lemonade away from her, sat it on a flat rock. “What do you need from me, Alanna?”
“For whatever time I have, I want . . . I’m not trying to demand things. But I need you . . . to treat me as yours. The only thing I’ve ever wanted is to belong to a vampire.” Only now she understood how much more that word belong meant. It was a specific, targeted need. “I’m yours and Evan’s. Yours,” she emphasized, because she liked how it sounded. She curled her fingers in the sleek arrow of hair on his upper abdomen as his hand covered hers.
“I’m not a vampire.”
“The two of you are the same, even if you’re different. Treat me as yours. Please. Like Evan said, but . . . I want that, too.”
