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There's a pair of shears sitting on the bench. Brian spoke in her head. Clip one off.
When she hesitated, she heard his velvet chuckle in his head. I already asked Lyssa if it was all right. We're safe from her wrath.
She smiled at that. Picking up the shears, she wondered how he'd anticipated her path.
I'm a little more observant than my servant thinks I am.
It was an unnerving thought, one that sent a shivery cascade of feeling through her. Carefully snipping off the bloom, leaving a half foot thorny stem, she put down the shears and brought the blossom back to her nose for another pleasurable inhale.
Trail it between your breasts. Over them.
She did, her breath catching at the sensation and his command. The scent wafted up as nerves tingled along the curves, held up plump and enticing in the bra he'd wanted her to wear. Jacob hadn't been able to look away from them.
I'd advise you not to bring up his name again tonight.
It was an easy command to follow. There was only one name she wanted to think about.
Master.
Slide it lower. Along your thighs.
She put the shoes down and obeyed, making a hum in her throat as the weight of the bloom aroused her clit under the silky panties. It was already engorged and wanting attention.
Then come find me and I will attend to it.
Clasping the rose and reclaiming her shoes, she moved along the stepping stones. Once emerging from the gardens close to the house, her bare feet sunk into a carpet of grass. She was on the main stretch of the south lawn, four acres of lush green dotted with trees and hedge groupings, backed by a thick forest. But a servant always knew where to find her vampire.
On the western corner of the mowed area, a trio of live oaks provided his stargazing spot. A nice flat stretch glided down a slope to a pretty man-made pond with a fountain. The soft rush of water was like the sound of the wind. She saw the silhouettes of the ducks sleeping on the banks, since a mallard pair and their annual crop of babies lived there in the warmer months.
Then she saw Brian, and everything else disappeared.
She did pick at him about his pocket protectors and sweater vests, but he was never rumpled or mismatched -- except for the occasional need to straighten his tie as she'd done earlier. When he wore one, he tended to pull at it while working. Otherwise, his clothing was always high quality. He wore slacks and crisply ironed shirts, matched with tailored coats when needed. Inside the lab or out, he looked like a wealthy man, a successful scientist who ran his own facility, ready to present to his benefactors or direct a full lab staff as needed. He didn't really do casual.
Tonight he had. In a way that had her swallowing, hard.
He wore a pair of belted jeans and nothing else. The body she'd enjoyed touching for such a brief time in the bedroom was on mouthwatering display, the sculpted pectorals and tight abs, the shoulders just the right breadth. The jeans weren't tight, but they were worn enough to cling the right way to groin and ass. He was stretched out on a blanket on his side, head propped up on one hand, his body sprawled out like a lazy predator, an impression enhanced by the sharp focus of his eyes, covering her from head to toe.
"Put on the shoes, then come to me," he said.
She'd maneuvered on the four-inch stilettos well enough in the halls. Maybe better than well enough. That pendulum sway to her hips the unstable shoes required had been another thing Ja -- those she passed -- noticed.
Brian's eyes glinted, acknowledging the wisdom of her self-editorializing. Balancing herself precariously, she put on one shoe, then the other. The only way to walk across the few feet of grass in stilettos would be carefully, on her toes, a mincing gait that made her breasts quiver in a way she could tell he liked. He even pushed himself up on one straightened arm to get a better look. For her part, she couldn't take her eyes off his bare chest, the corded throat, his muscles layered and stretched over his abdomen, drawing the eyes to denim molded around his groin. He was aroused, evident by the sizeable strain in that area. She moistened her lips.
Right before she stumbled.
She'd never been good with the blasted things, even on solid surfaces. For the most part, Brian had always been fine with her wearing modest one-or two-inch heels for Council events or vampire formal occasions to save her embarrassment. As a result, this was the only pair of spiky heels she owned, purchased early in their relationship when she was learning what vampires liked to see their servants wear. When she first wore them, Brian hadn't seemed that intrigued, so she'd put them away.
She expected a face plant in the grass. Instead, she found herself caught against that solid chest, his arms around her as he steadied her, drew her back to an upright position that pressed her lace-clad breasts against his bare skin. He smiled down at her. "Kick them off."
She did. She was average height without them, but right now he felt so much taller.
"Next time I'll have you wear your canvas sneakers," he said. "That old ratty white pair you like so much."
"It wouldn't go so well with this outfit."
"I think it goes perfectly with you." He slid the light coat off her shoulders so she was in bra and panties alone. Then he bent and placed a kiss on her back, below her left shoulder blade.
Directly over her third mark.
The significant, tender and yet possessive gesture made every nerve ending in her body yearn toward that spot, her heart somersaulting. Every full servant bore a mark, a cross between a scar and a birthmark that appeared during the third marking. When he'd fully marked her all those years ago in the lab, her third mark had appeared on her back, positioned over her heart. It looked like an X, with the two top ends thickened.
The shape of the mark was dictated by forces beyond vampire understanding, usually an unmistakable meaning to it. She hadn't yet figured out what hers was, but just having his mark had always been meaningful enough to her.
He brushed his lips over it again. "Sweet servant," he murmured. "Down on the blanket. On your back."
As she complied, he stood over her, watching, and it stole her breath, his arousal prominent against the jeans, his unapologetic virility. It was a side of Brian very few ever saw. This version of it was new to her as well, but entirely welcome.
"I'm glad my servant approves." He gave her a faint
smile tinged with sensual warmth, telling her he wasn't chiding her. "Spread your legs for your Master."
She did, and he moved forward, hooking his foot under her right knee and moving it so it bent outward. Understanding, she did the same with the other, so her thighs formed a wide, empty cradle. The position also stretched her panties over her swollen cunt.
"You're nice and wet already."
"Yes, Master. For you."
His gaze flickered up at the uneven sound of her voice. She was trying not to let the emotional interfere, but her heart was starting to race like a freight train. She didn't want to have a panic attack, wanted to live in the moment and not worry about what this did or didn't mean. But she couldn't seem to be objective.
When he stood over her like this, he seemed so much bigger, larger than life. Like when they'd met. But that wasn't why she'd fallen for him. It was when she realized he was a complicated mix that he'd won her heart. He was a genius, yes. He could also lose ten pens a week because he couldn't remember where he'd put them down. He'd break off in mid-conversation with a high-ranking vampire simply because he went somewhere else in his head to solve a problem. Though it didn't happen too often, she'd seen him lose his temper, break the top of a table with his fist. It had been yet another test of the serum cure for the Delilah virus, another failure to find an alternative to killing servants.
She was the one who'd convinced him they needed to take a short break on that project. Give it time to breathe and come back to it. They would find the solution that would save both servant and vampire eventually. She was sure of it.
It had been a while since she'd remembered so vividly that dangerous strength he possessed. He could crush her in his arms, yet she never feared his hold on her. Not for that reason.
She knew he was in her head. She could tell by his changed expression. But he didn't say anything about those thoughts. He was her Master. It wasn't his job to reassure or explain. She embraced that idea, even as the gaps it left felt like open wounds.
