She’d noted Mal’s penchant at home for keeping all the French doors open at night. Sometimes he even took his paperwork out on the porch, listening to the cats calling across the island during their nocturnal wanderings. She thought of his childhood, how he’d run away, but they’d caught him, time and again, and locked him up.
The covers were half-off of him, his upper body twisted so his back was to her. The sheet was low enough she could see his hip, the rise of a buttock, for he slept naked, God bless every fine inch of him. She leaned in the doorway. It wasn’t often she got the chance to ogle without interruption, though she knew he was awake—merely not awake enough to acknowledge her.
Given everything she’d learned about predators, if not for their aversion to light, vampires would be nigh invulnerable, at the top of the food chain. No wonder they preferred to keep their existence a secret from humankind generally. Whole legions of vampire-hunter teams would form to try to root them out during daylight, when ones like Mal were weakest.
She didn’t like that thought. But then something amazing occurred to her, something she hadn’t considered before. That was one of the reasons a vampire had a full servant, her senses enhanced so that she could hear the movement of household staff on the upper and lower floors, could scent the lingering traces of anyone who’d passed by this room in recent hours. She’d never thought of herself as anyone’s protector, certainly not a formidable vampire, but she’d been equipped to be just that. Well, protector was a little strong. More like a small, yappy guard dog, one who would make absolutely sure Mal knew someone was coming, if ever his senses were thrown off.
“Yappy guard dog? Like one of those fuzzy mop dogs we saw when we pulled in last night?”
“Those fuzzy mop dogs are Horace and Helmsley, who apparently belong to Nadia’s mother, Latriska. She stays here and does bookkeeping for Lord Marshall, because she’s a very accomplished bookkeeper and secretary. She’s not marked, but Lord Marshall chose to bring her here anyway after Nadia lost her third baby.”
Mal rolled over then, raising a brow. “You could have been an intelligence operative during the War.”
“Who says I wasn’t?” She struck an exotic pose at the door. “Don’t I look like Mata Hari? Her maid, at least. Or her maid’s maid.”
The skin around his eyes creased with a smile. “You look like a foolish, delightful girl who needs a spanking. And you would have been barely out of short skirts during the War. Come here.”
She considered his near nakedness, too well hidden by the blanket now that he’d turned over. He’d been so serious in the car, so many demons plaguing him. She was glad to see those gone, but she thought she could drive them further off.
“I think I’ll get far more out of it if I say no.”
“And how do you figure that?” His brow arched, his eyes taking on that wicked glint her body recognized, already warming.
“Well, you’ll insist on chasing after me, which means you’ll have to jump out of bed, and I’ll see you all bare-arsed. A girl has to get her thrills where she can. That’s what Danny always says. Or at least she said it when she caught me taking a peek at Dev. He was washing up behind the house, because he’d spent a day in the bush and was coated in mud and grime. Danny said he couldn’t come in until he was two coats of dirt lighter, so he grumbled, went to the pump out back and stripped down, all of it. Mrs. Pritchett was at the kitchen window and her eyes fair popped out of her head. I decided we needed to have more wood for the cookstove, because the window cut off too much. Plus, Mrs. Rupert was crowded in next to her, and they’re stout women. I couldn’t squeeze in to see.”
He was regarding her with fascination, but when she wound down, he crossed his arms over his bare chest. “Your idea won’t work.”
“Why not? I—”
She gave a short shriek, for he’d moved faster than she could follow, such that all she sensed was a brief jerk, her feet leaving the floor, and then she was in the bed, turned beneath him. The sheet floated down over the two of them like a disturbed cloud. His hands were sure and firm, one palm spread behind her shoulder blades, the other gripping her hip, his body between her legs, pressing against the thin fabric of her skirt. Like many males upon waking—something she’d quite recently learned, never having woken in a man’s bed before Mal—he was a more than impressive size. So impressive she couldn’t help the involuntary arch against him, the drawing of her lower lip between her teeth.
“Are you wearing any panties?” His tone shifted to that husky murmur she recognized meant he was no longer willing to play, the hunter taking over.
“No. You told me not to do that, ever, except when you instruct me to it.”
“And why did I do that?”
“Because you wanted me to be accessible to you whenever you wanted to . . .”
“Say it, Elisa.” He bent, caught her ear in a brief nip, then worked his way down the side of her throat, teasing that flower mark with sensual intent before piercing her over it without preamble. She gave a tiny moan, her fingers flexing on his biceps as he took his first blood of the evening.
“When you want to be inside my c-cunt. With your tongue, cock or whatever object pleases you.”
Even after ten days of intense training, she could still stumble on such a bald declaration. But he was relentless, and she’d realized quickly that it was more than his desire to have her properly prepared. She was his first fully marked servant, and he was exploring this side of his vampire nature, stirred from dormancy to sudden, full, raging life. He’d explored it with great creativity, until she’d assured herself anything that happened in Florida would pall in comparison.
It was a reassuring lie, of course, because it would be far different to have him do these things to her in front of strangers, or worse, be touched by others when she was under his command. However, she was going to handle it fine. She’d accept no other outcome.
She was already wet. She worried she would drip on the floor tonight, not wearing any undergarments. Particularly if he kept teasing her like this throughout the evening.
Vampires like that, Irish flower. We like smelling your arousal, knowing it’s so strong that your honey is trickling down your lovely thigh, over your calf. Even in a room full of servants, I’ll be able to tell the arousal is yours.
When he pressed harder against her, she lifted her hips to him, stroking her damp center against his full length, despite the irritating boundary of cloth. But she’d learned. She kept her hands on his upper arms, knowing it was up to him what he wanted her to do. He might command her to lift her skirt, or do it himself, as he did now. Using one hand to bunch the fabric, he pulled it up to her abdomen, curving his body off of her with a ripple of muscle to accommodate it.
I’m going to fuck you now, Elisa. Leisurely, deep, and take my time with it. I’m going to eventually come, but you will not. If you think at any point you can’t hold back any longer, you tell me, because I do not want you to come. I want you so close to it you’re about to lose your mind, but that is all.
Oh, if that was all. It was a desperate, wry thought. She was already hot through and through, because that had been part of the training as well, such that she could become wet and ready for him with barely more than a command to do so. At the same time, she could hold back. Based on his training, she could straddle the line of near dying from the desire to come, and an incurable hunger to please his every desire. His pleasure at her obedience was as much nourishment for her soul as her blood was to his body.
Finding out that such a carnal ability to serve was directly connected to her concentrated desire to serve in more mundane ways had been a revelation for her. In their quiet discussions after such intense lovemaking, he’d pointed out things in her nature that had been there all along. He believed that Lady Constance had seen them as well, explaining why she’d taken Elisa in, knowing she’d be a treasure in a vampire’s household. Knowing that didn’t offend her; if anything, it somehow made her feel even more connected to the one place she’d considered home. And she guessed her lack of offense just reinforced what they’d all known about her.
He pushed into her now, that wetness easing his way, though she gave a tiny little groan, because he was extremely thick this evening. He wasn’t rough, but he was rough enough, insisting and making her work her hips up and back to accommodate him until she was gasping at that friction. He pulled open her blouse so he could see the thrust of her breasts toward him, the way the aroused nipples pushed against the thin fabric of the decorative bra.
When he was settled to the hilt, his hips pressing her thighs wide, she let her gaze course up his chest, to the finely molded shoulders and corded neck, the dark hair falling over his forehead, emphasizing those severe cheekbones and stern lips, the dark eyes that made her think of arcane starless skies.
I want to touch you, Master. May I?
Whatever you wish to drive your arousal higher.
She wanted to torture herself, and so she did, sliding her hands from his arms, lingering on the slope of his back, down to the firm buttocks, digging her fingers in there, kneading to pleasure herself with the feel of him driving deeper, withdrawing, then flexing to drive in again. Her kneading began to match his rhythm, her heels overlapping her wrists to let him drive in deeper. He wrenched another cry from her throat as he bent and suckled her right nipple through the satin cloth. Letting her feel the press of fangs through it, he went still, not puncturing or tearing it. The moist heat of his breath, the slow circle of his tongue over her jutting nipple, enhanced the sensation.
No, no . . . It wasn’t a protest; it was proof of how helpless he was making her, such that she had to admonish herself to hold on. She didn’t want to stop anything he was doing, but she knew he was going to test her to her limit. Already, her body was coiled so tight, a ravenous creature whose hunger was being denied.
Obey me, sweet Elisa. You serve my pleasure, not your own. Let me see you tremble and flush, so close to climax, your pussy already gripping me as if it will never let go.
