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With a snort, Ian released her. The red imprint of his fingers showed on her white skin. Dev indulged in a graphic visual of breaking each one of them.
“You’re baiting us,” Ian said. “You like to tease, Lady Danny.”
“Perhaps.” She straightened with that same smile in place. “But as I said, Ian, I am not the same woman who left here over forty years ago. What I want to know is if you are the same man. Can you satisfy me enough to make it worth my while to keep you around? More wine, Lord Charles?”
Moving behind Ian’s chair, she let her hand trail along his arm, up to his neck, even teased the queue of his hair, drawing Lord Charles’s eye as she gave him a bold stare that caused his brow to crease, a smile to curve his lips as he shook his head, noting his glass was still half full.
“That depends, my lady,” Ian said. “But I suspect I can more than adequately supply what you need.”
“Then you won’t mind a small test of that?” She gave him a look that had an unmistakable sexual challenge in it as he shrugged, spread his hands.
“I’m at your disposal, my lady.”
Picking up a strawberry from the side bar, she inhaled the aroma, then bit halfway into it, apparently letting it tease her taste buds, before she leaned over the top of the chair. When she brought it to his mouth, Ian covered the fruit and her lips with his own, one hand rising to twine in that single lock of hair. She drew back as he bit down, taking half of the strawberry from her lips. Since she remained leaning over him, he withdrew the fruit from his mouth and used it to mark a faint crimson cross on the high pillow of one pale breast. Her lips parted, showing a hint of fang, her eyes flashing with obvious lust. Lord Charles chuckled appreciatively.
“I think Lady Danny has learned a great deal on her travels. She no longer seems the angry child you told me about. I’d hold on to that invitation.”
“I might at that.” Tilting his head back, Ian stared up at Danny as she settled along the top of the chair, letting her hand tease his cheek. He turned, nipped her, and the tooth raked her palm, pearls of blood welling from the track.
“The responsibilities of an overlord are much for one person,” she commented, letting Ian play as she glanced over at Lord Charles.
“Particularly for me. I wish to honor my mother. If Ian served her well as a partner, I see no reason not to continue with that, for the time being.” She picked up another strawberry from the side bar.
“Will you seal that bargain with a kiss, my lady?” Ian’s eyes were bright on her face. “And let me take you to my bed tonight?”
“Perhaps I will take you to mine. And it is not a bargain. It is a trial period,” she amended, with a cooler smile. “I am not so easy as all that. Close your eyes, Ian, and let’s see if you can see the difference between a plump strawberry breast, and the taste of strawberry on my lips. I’m feeling generous.”
Dev’s brow had creased throughout the exchange, and now his blood heat rose in violent reaction as she leaned down toward the male vampire once again. He knew she could hear him in her mind, wanted to fire something suitably scathing at her, but held it, his jaw clenched. Less than a couple hours ago, she’d taken him into her body. Maybe she thought what he said about tolerating other men only applied to human males she took to his bed. He wasn’t sure how a vampire thought about such things, really. Bloody hell.
Her blue gaze softened, just a touch, painfully reminding him of how she’d given him a similar look. When her thumb dropped to cradle Ian’s jaw, the intimate gesture made bad go to worse. He knew it was a game, that she loathed Ian, but how could she perfect the exact same look, unless both were an act to get each of them to do as she wished? She’d said politics had to be played.
Well, to hell with that, and her. He preferred the straightforward survival needs of the bush. If she kissed Ian, he was going to murder someone. That was the end of it.
A vampire could move faster than a human eye could track. Dev already knew that. But it still caught him off guard when Lord Charles surged up from his chair, violently enough it turned over and hit the wall.
A blink later, Ian’s head toppled off his shoulders, bouncing off the chair arm and hitting the floor.
12
IT made a hard thump, reminding Dev how much the head actually weighed, a nasty tidbit he’d learned during the war. Severed arteries sprayed blood, spattering the walls, Lady Danny and her lovely gold dress, even the elegant china tea settings.
A choked scream from Chiyoko sent Dev lunging around the table, helping Aapti to catch her as she fell to the floor, the Asian girl convulsing. Dev ripped off the collar to give her the ability to breathe, but Aapti’s expression, the knowledge there, brought Danny’s words back to him brutally.
A third-marked servant dies when the vampire dies . . .
Aapti covered her fellow servant with the arch of her body, her hand in her hair, her soft voice murmuring to her. At her calmness, Dev wondered how many sights such as these the Indian servant had seen. Except for a subdued quivering, she had no outward display of shock. A moment before Ian’s decapitation, she’d had her mouth brushing over Chiyoko’s, sharing their pleasure in each other, even if it was for the primary benefit of their Masters.
While he knelt by the Asian girl, feeling the heat leaving her hands, Dev saw the bloodstained wire clasped in Danny’s hands. He recalled the artful and provocative way she’d trailed her fingers across the tops of her breasts, as accomplished as Salome, the way she’d teased her cleavage as she’d cradled Ian’s jaw. The approach of her lips holding the strawberry, the sense of her breath on his face, would have made Ian’s eyes half close even if they weren’t closed already, preparing for the coming bliss, the spike to his lust.
It was all she’d needed. It was easy enough to reverse engineer now. She’d pulled the wire, cleverly threaded into the underwiring of her bodice, looped it around his throat and yanked, no more than a blink with vampire speed and the element of surprise.
Without the element of surprise, you’ve got no chance at all . . . Her gaze met his, then shifted to Lord Charles. He was still on his feet, though now he appeared to be waiting on her, rather than preparing for attack. “Under Council law,” she said, “I am overlord of this territory. His attack upon me in the desert, where he intended to take my life, entitled me to retribution.”
“Council law supports that.” He inclined his head. “But you also know that my permission is needed to take a vampire’s life in my territory. There will be a cost.”
Her expression didn’t flicker. “You are Region Master, Lord Charles. I certainly have no wish for discord between us. Since I owe you a fencing match tonight, perhaps we will discuss it before or after that. Will you allow me to handle this household matter first?” At his nod, she shifted her gaze to Dev. She might have been a living corpse such as Stoker imagined, as little life as he saw in her eyes. “Dev, please ask the staff to gather out front. All of them.”
She stood to the left of a headless vampire’s body, slumped over the side of the beautifully carved Queen Anne chair, his servant dead at Dev’s feet. He found he couldn’t respond until she prompted him again gently. Dev, can you handle it? Or do you just want to go?
From the Region Master’s scrutiny, Dev knew he was expecting him to jump through the hoops properly for her. Despite that, once again she was giving him the chance to get the hell out of here and not look back.
Maybe anyone else would have leaped at that chance. He could think of a lot of other places he’d rather be right now, for certain.
However, during the grueling New Guinea campaign, he’d learned to split his mind into two parts. He’d process all sorts of data—
enemy movement, the location of his mates, whether his weapon was ready to fire, the placement of his feet and body for the action he would face. He was hyperalert to every whisper of wind, crackle of grass, the scrape of a boot on a rock. And yet he was entirely numb to clambering over fallen bodies, the rage that made him scream like a mad-man as he fired, not caring about life or death.
Some part of him knew, when it got quiet again, there’d be something worse than death to face, the two parts of his brain coming back together whether he wanted them to or not. So he’d learned that what was important in the face of the unthinkable was not to make any big decisions right then. Only the little ones, the ones that moved you moment to moment.
Yeah. I can handle it.
She nodded. “Please inform Mary I expect her to take the next available transportation off the station. She is discharged. I don’t want her here.”
He looked down. “My lady, what would you like—”
“Please select a few of the men to carry the two bodies outside, where the assembled staff can see them.”
“My lady.” Lord Ruskin held out his arm. “What say we retire to the study a few moments, share another glass of wine while your man gathers the staff and follows your direction?” His gaze traveled over her. “I am assuming you do not care to change until they’ve seen you, to underscore the point.”
“As ever, you understand a great deal.” Danny inclined her head. “Perhaps my grievances about you with the Council were rash, youthful. Sometimes stronger measures are needed to handle matters.”
With another glance at Dev, she exited with Ruskin, her mind silent, though he didn’t know what she could say that would make him feel better about this. Or if she even felt it was necessary to try.
Chiyoko had fallen gracefully, and her legs were folded together, one foot slightly turned over the other, like a babe in the womb.
Aapti layered her hands on her chest, closed her eyes. While he wasn’t sure why he did it, Dev figured out the nipple clamps, removed them, as well as all the chains, to leave her in only her flawless skin. Aapti didn’t look at him, but he saw her lips press together, and a tear trickle down her cheek.
Rising, mind numb, Dev headed for the kitchen to do his lady’s bidding.
