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His hand stilled on her hair. Tension swept the body beneath her, such that the planes and curves that had fitted perfectly with her limp torso a blink ago now felt awkward, unyielding. Though he brushed his lips across her hair, it was a perfunctory move as he lifted her and set her on her feet. “On second thought, I’ll have to pass on that drink, Evan. I wasn’t aware of the time, and there are some other errands I need to handle before dawn.”
There was Evan’s protest, Mason’s response, lost in her confusion, but Mason wrapped it up smoothly, swiftly. “It’s been a pleasure to see you. I’ll plan on visiting next time I’m in Colombia.” Jessica’s brow furrowed, but she remembered herself enough to bite back her questions. Regardless, he turned to her and spoke sharply, as if she’d openly defied him. “We’re leaving.” Amara and Enrique will be staying in the city for a few days to gather some supplies for the estate. You should stay with them.
With that, he turned and left her standing there, her climax trickling down her leg, her skin chilled. Evan watched him with an odd glance, then shrugged as Niall returned.
Niall handed his Master his drink and then shifted casually so he blocked the view between him and Jessica. When she flinched back at his proximity, lifting startled eyes to him, he lifted both hands carefully. “Easy, girl.” He dropped his voice. “I was going to say I hope we get the pleasure of seeing you again. And perhaps a name, next time. You might want to go. You know they get testy if you keep them waiting.”
Giving her a nod and a reassuring wink, he moved back to Evan, who was watching the floor again. The human servant of another vampire was not worth his notice when she was not with her Master. Or performing like a licentious lap dancer.
Jessica swallowed, her hands curling into fists. She began to work her way through the crowd, the noise now seeming far too loud, far too close. Her peaceful interlude was gone. As if Mason had held her in a cocoon, the sultry languor she’d felt with him was now replaced with a simmering headache, egged on by the crashing music, too many strobe lights and the suffocating heat of too many bodies. Too many sexually stimulated bodies.
“Jess?”
She nearly clutched Amara in relief when she appeared at her side, Enrique behind her. “Lord Mason said he was departing and you would be staying with us. What happened?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t even know you were staying. Why didn’t you tell me?” When Jessica stumbled, not yet steady on her feet, Amara guided her out of the press of traffic. The club was rife with small alcoves that could be shut off from view with a curtain for those desiring privacy. As they went into one, Enrique drew the velvet fabric closed, muting the noise a small amount. Amara pushed her down into a chair.
“Here, catch your breath. Lord Mason was going to tell you tonight. Only I thought he was planning—” She stopped, wincing.
Enrique put his hand on her shoulder, brow creasing in concern.
“I’m fine,” she said. Clearing her throat, she met Jess’s gaze. “Lord Mason has just . . . reiterated you should stay with us for a few days. That would be preferable.”
Jessica surged back up, gripping the back of her chair for balance. “I’m not an idiot. You wanted me to stay at the estate, the two of us, for a few days. What changed?”
Amara shook her head. “I—”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Jessica snapped. Glaring into space, she balled her hands in fists. Leave me standing there, like some . .. whore you paid for sex. You bastard. “Never mind. We’ll see you in a few days.” Sweeping aside the privacy screen, she hesitated, then glanced back. “Thank you for tonight, both of you. And don’t worry about me. Really. Have a good time and enjoy one another.”
Then she disappeared in the crowd, leaving Enrique and Amara blinking at each other. Enrique sent Mason the message that Jessica was alone and headed toward the front entrance, but then he reached out and touched Amara’s face. “Did he hurt you?” She shook her head. “I think his emotions aren’t under control right now. She might want to tread carefully.”
“Hmm. She doesn’t seem very calm herself.” However, as he eased her to her feet, and she turned from his expression, it darkened. Enrique knew a vampire could express his displeasure with a servant in a manner comparable to having a migraine explode abruptly in a marked human’s mind. Linked as closely to his wife as he was, it was clear Mason had come damn near to that.
My lord, that was not necessary. When Enrique met silence, he gritted his teeth, feeling a rare surge of anger. Perhaps it was good they were spending a couple days in the city. However, Amara was right. Mason rarely acted in this manner. Reluctantly, Enrique wondered if it was best for Jessica if they changed their plans.
If I wished to harm her, I could, Enrique, with or without your presence.
Enrique directed his wife through the crowds, a hand at her back, the other clasping the fingers of her free hand. Yes, my lord. But it was my impression, as well as Jessica’s, that you are not Raithe.
A tiger does not stop being a tiger, Enrique, just because it knows how to sheathe his claws. Do not test me. Go and enjoy your time in town with Amara. I will see you in three days. I’m sure Jessica will be rejoining you after we speak together.
When she’d stepped into the club, she’d been terrified, but determined to face her fear. She’d found ways to overcome it, fragile methods for certain, but she’d done it. The mask had been part of that, and it had been his suggestion. In fact, all the things that had helped her get through tonight had rested on the foundation of his presence. For the first time, she’d acknowledged she’d begun to trust him as her protector.
In her pre-Raithe life, she remembered how her safe world glorified the label of victim, such that day-to-day crises were blown into melodramas, all to display the V proudly on chests. Those people in their safe worlds had no idea what truly being a victim meant, or how fiercely those who were true victims despised the branding of that label upon their souls.
Overwhelmed by uncontrollable, stronger forces, she’d been helpless, no options except base survival instincts, beyond the in dulgences of morality or choice. She’d been hurt to the point she’d begged for death, been willing to do anything, suffer any humiliation, betray any part of herself—except her family—to simply make it stop hurting. Now that it might be in her past, she had no patience with being treated as if that part of her life was all she would ever be.
But as she pushed toward the club exit and the initial humiliation and stung feelings ebbed, she came to an astonishing realization.
Something had overwhelmed Mason, and rather than thinking of her first, of her fragility, he’d acted to protect his own vulnerability.
He’d considered her capable of pulling it back together, handling the aftermath of his mood swing herself. As angry as it had made her, it gave her a fierce sense of triumph—as well as renewed determination to get to the bottom of this, once and for all.
Jessica found the limo in the same place. The driver was leaning against it, smoking a cigarette, but she waved him away before he stirred himself to get the door. Circling to the opposite side, she yanked it open herself, ducking into the roomy interior. Mason was in the far corner, his face in shadows as he took a swallow from what appeared to be whiskey. One long leg was stretched out, the other bent, a tense hand on his knee.
She took the seat across from him. Since he seemed to be indulging one of his long, brooding silences, she took the time to sort out her own thoughts, not really sure now how to proceed. She’d intended to remove the mask, but she wasn’t sure how he’d laced together the ties. In a way, though, she wasn’t unhappy about that, for the mask did give her more courage.
Mason’s gaze remained on the glass. “You need to go join Amara and Enrique.”
“What if I prefer to go home?”
“While the Council has no plans to hunt your family, I wouldn’t advise that yet.” Jessica bit her lip. “That’s not what I meant.”
“I know what you meant.” He sighed. “Jessica, you know there’s a hundred reasons why staying with me is only a temporary waypost for you. It’s—”
“This isn’t about me.” She cut across him, ignoring his warning look. “This is about you. Why did you pull back from me, Mason?”
“That would be Lord Mason, or my lord. You of all people should be aware of vampire etiquette.”
“How about my Royal Pain in the Ass?” she suggested sweetly. “Or—”
She didn’t see him move, but in the next second he had her flat on her back on the seat, his hand gripping her throat, his body looming over hers. When his eyes flashed amber fire, the lip curled back, showing deadly fangs. The strength of his one hand was unshakable, and as he knelt over her, staring down at her with implacable eyes, waiting for her to come into line, she felt it close around her. The grip of the fear, always waiting, perhaps all the worse for being pushed back, like a wound that had closed over, only to have the scab pulled off fresh, a feeling that could be more painful than the initial strike.
But this time, she shoved it away with all her strength, the rage of a soul that refused to be bullied ever again.
I refuse to fear you. She snarled it inside, a female tiger taking on the wrath of a male, though the flames in his eyes could immolate her. “Treat me like he did if you wish, my lord. But you will have to kill me. I will not scrape like some cringing slave.” Her voice shook as she said it, but she reached up. He caught her by the wrist. She lifted the other hand. This time he didn’t stop her as she touched his face. Instead, he whipped his head to the side, a striking snake, and sank his fangs into her wrist.
She cried out, but curled her bound hand in his grip, her fingers overlapping his knuckles. When his gaze closed, his head bowed, though he kept a firm grip on her, drinking, replenishing his body. A warm swirl of emotion penetrated the cold grip of her fear.
You are trying to push me away, my lord, and it won’t work. You are not Raithe. You’re something even more dangerous.
