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The true consequences of his impromptu test would come when she woke again. There was no emotional bond between them to let her believe that her reaction had been anything other than the sick, learned response she thought it was. While the agony of her struggle had taken his mind off his aching cock, he’d rather have borne ten times the sexual frustration than witness the beginning of this journey, knowing how long and agonizing a road she likely faced to believe in her own worth again.
10
WHEN Jessica woke, she was back in her room. It was early morning, which said she’d slept through an entire day, since Mason had taken her to his bed during daylight. She was startled she’d slept so deeply that she hadn’t been aware of being moved. Amara was reading nearby, but raised her head as she stirred. Her expression was wary, and when Jessica stretched, she remembered the manacles were gone. So, too, was the silver bracelet Mason had used to bind her to him while they slept.
Good morning. His voice resonated in her brain, a quiet reminder of his presence. I’m trusting you not to do harm to yourself or my staff, habiba . If you betray that trust, you will wear the manacles again.
She pursed her lips. So harm to you is okay?
A pause. I will deal with that an entirely different way. He filled her mind with the image of her naked rump beneath his hand, her slick cunt, the saliva that marked his jeans as she bit him in the throes of her climax.
Feeling her cheeks flushing, she scowled and pushed herself up on her arms, amazed anew at how sleep fell away from her, and her body vibrated with a desire to move. To stretch and leap. To play, as if she were eight again.
Amara still had not spoken, maybe to give her Master time to have his say. When Jess rose from the bed, though, finding herself in a relatively modest cotton nightgown, the servant spoke. “I hope you slept well, Jessica.” Jess managed a curt nod. “You don’t have to be here while I dress and get ready for the day.”
“I think I do.” Amara set the book aside and rose. “Lord Mason feels that your periods of clarity are going to come and go. You might try to run away or hurt yourself.”
Jess gave a bitter chuckle. “It’s actually the hazy moments that are safer. The clear moments are the unbearable ones.” Amara’s gaze darkened, but instead of commenting on that, she gestured toward the closet. “There is a selection of clothes for you, though Lord Mason noted he particularly liked the sarong.”
Well, then, she was never wearing that again. She tried to push away the thought of how his body had felt, molded against hers in the thin fabric. In truth, his arms had been the most effective restraint of all, if the intention of the manacles was to keep her from a self-destructive panic attack. At least once she’d woken to find her cheek pillowed on his biceps, her hands hooked on his crossed forearms, holding on. In the nonjudgmental torpor of half sleep, it had been reassuring enough to send her back to dreamlessness.
He was a vampire. But he was Farida’s Mason. How did she reconcile the two?
Jess moved to the closet. She reminded herself again it was time to pull it together. Several days ago, she’d been a dying woman with flagging energy. This morning . . . well, she didn’t feel that way, and while it was damned irritating, she was back to paying attention, wanting to use whatever weapon came to hand to change her circumstances. Of course, now that she was fully marked, her mind told her escape attempts were futile, but she’d followed the instinct too long to abandon it. At least until she figured out a better strategy.
“So how did you come to Lord Mason?” she asked, pawing through the selections.
“I was part of a prince’s household, valued for my dancing skills. Lord Mason was visiting the prince on business, and Enrique . . .” Jessica turned as Amara hesitated, then her lovely face creased in a smile. “We saw each other quite often during that visit. He was very resourceful. Then the prince presented me to Lord Mason as a gift, and I learned that Enrique had entreated my lord to bring me into his service. Enrique and I fell in love quite quickly.”
Looking at the soft light in her eyes, Jessica didn’t doubt it, though it was a peculiar relationship for her to contemplate. “But you . .
. dance, for Lord Mason?”
Amara nodded. “I usually dance for him once each week, if you wish to watch. Lord Mason likes the performance as part of his meal.”
“Thanks, but no. I don’t have any interest in being near that.” She shuddered involuntarily, remembering, and couldn’t help flinching when Amara came close enough to touch her shoulder. “Not that I expect I have a choice,” she added bitterly.
Today Mason’s servant had her long black hair loose over her shoulders. Her skirt had melted colors like a sunset, over which she wore a belted tunic embroidered with tiny, glittering stones. Jessica wondered if she rose from bed this way, tempting and touchable. She’d no doubt that Enrique’s French blood had gone to the boiling point at the sight of her. Most men’s would. Hell, she herself had responded to the woman.
“Jessica, you do have a choice. You do not have to be there at all. But there’s a screened balcony area and you could watch.
Maybe it will reassure you. I think you should see the way a true vampire-servant relationship is supposed to be.”
“I don’t want to be reassured. I don’t want to lower my guard. I just want out of here.” Jessica shrugged off the touch and stepped farther into the closet, presenting her back to the woman.
“I understand that, but when the bond is true, there is nothing to fear. Even Enrique and I, having one another, have not achieved as deep a bond as most servants seek with their Master. That has been Lord Mason’s choice, but we find great joy in what he offers us.”
“I’ve seen that bond, Amara,” Jessica retorted. “Raithe’s servants captured my fiancé and delivered him into Raithe’s hands. He killed Jack in front of me. If having a loyalty so unquestioning you’d use it to kill innocent people is a ‘joy’ to you, you’re right. It’s something I never want to know. And it doesn’t matter if you tell me he’s a fucking saint; he won’t win my trust. I went far enough down that road, too many times, and I still bear the burn scars. Never again. So save your breath.” She could feel Amara studying her. “You’re wrong, Jess,” the woman said softly at last. “I do not wish to upset you, but you haven’t seen that bond, for Raithe never offered it to you.”
Jess curled her fingers in the clothes, a reaction to her surge of resentment, but decided not to respond. Most of the clothes were lightweight garb similar to what she’d worn the day before, but some were more modest. Jess chose a tunic top and matching long skirt, embroidered with tiny mirrors and beads. “Do I have any underwear?” Amara directed her to a dresser with a selection of bras and panties. Jess searched through them until she found a turquoise satin set that at least provided grudging full coverage of her ass. When she took it all into the bathroom, she found an assortment of toiletries. While Amara did allow her to close the door for a few minutes for privacy, she had to leave it open while dressing. It could be worse. She could still be wearing the manacles. But Amara’s hovering had a similar itchy feeling.
Once she was dressed, Amara took her through the sprawling estate to a large kitchen, introduced her to the cook staff and parked her at a butcher-block table. It was a relaxed, informal eating space, and the plateful of food they put before her reminded her vividly how long it had been since she’d actually felt hungry. Jessica stared at the fresh fruit, the sharp cheddar cheese, the single piece of chocolate sitting on a gold circle of foil on the corner. She also had a cup of ripe wine, and a tall glass of ice water.
Everything had wonderful aromas and colors, but it wasn’t too much food, not enough to stuff herself. Picking up each piece slowly, she inhaled it, closed her eyes to chew, entranced with food that tasted good again.
While the staff was not unfriendly, they didn’t attempt to engage her in conversation. A few surreptitious glances came her way, but for this first meal, the scrutiny didn’t bother her. As she ate, Amara and the cook chatted, the other three members of the staff moving about efficiently.
The import of that hit her, such that she dropped the chocolate, untasted. “Why are there so many of you?” she demanded.
Amara and the cook looked toward her. “What do you mean, Jess?” Amara asked.
“One vampire. No guests. Why are there three of you?” Jess was on her feet and backing away from the table, that need for flight kicking in as Amara rose from her stool. “He doesn’t need a damn cook and three kitchen staff, unless he plans to have guests.
Unless he’s expecting other vampires to visit.”
“Very few vampires visit me. You’ve had the good fortune to fall into the hands of the most unsociable vampire in the Western hemisphere. However, I am doing necessary renovations and have contractors to feed.” She found him standing behind her, leaning in the doorway, so her first view as she spun was a wall of chest. He was wearing a dark T-shirt, and as she lifted her gaze she saw his hair was loose for once, the strands enhancing the sculpted curve of jaw, temple and straight nose. She made herself focus on his vibrant eyes, and not the fact he was wearing the same jeans as earlier, and how distracting the fit could be to a woman’s libido.
“I’m glad you approve of my fashion sense.”
“Bite me,” she snapped, then colored as his brow rose. “Stop it,” she muttered. Pivoting on her heel, she marched back to the table and sat down. “Command your minions and then go away. I can’t eat with you here.”
“Always testing.”
Jess stiffened as his body pressed against the back of hers in less than a blink. Leaning forward, he picked up the chocolate, bringing it toward her lips. With his chest against her back, his arm in front of her, she was effectively captured. “How long do you think you’ll get away with issuing me commands, Jess?” he murmured. “You think you’re pushing me to see if I’ll become Raithe, but there’s another reason you’re pushing me, the one you won’t face. When you’re ready to do so, that’s the last time you’ll get to push me without immediate consequences.” His lips grazed her temple and she shuddered. The cook and Amara were back to conversing by the stove, paying no obvious attention to them, but she was sure it was a deliberate move to give her a false sense of privacy. Not that she needed one with the fanged bully.
