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He dropped to one knee next to her, leaned down and stroked his fingers through her hair, spreading it out on the blanket. "Your hair has more colors of gold than autumn," he observed. "You never color it."
"No...I never have."
Nodding, he traced her cheek, her lips. "And very rarely do you wear makeup. Sometimes for formal events you add some eye liner, shadow, and it makes your eyes even more soulful. They're like a shy animal's eyes, liquid brown and watchful, wanting to trust."
"Master." Don't. Please don't.
His own eyes darkened. "I'll do as I wish, won't I? And you'll bear it."
She nodded, choked out a sob as he bent, put his mouth on hers. Not a penetrating, demanding kiss, but a meeting of lips where he nuzzled, breathed into her mouth. It was terribly unfair, that a man this intelligent could kiss like this.
He lifted his head only the necessary space to stare into her eyes. "You've been wanting to ask me a question this week. I thought I caught a glimpse of it once or twice, but it's surrounded by a lot of emotions. I think we'll both benefit from you being brave enough to walk out of that storm and ask the question."
No. Don't make me go through that again. Please.
He touched her face. "If you know one thing about vampires, you know we have a ruthless side. I'm no exception to that."
No, he wasn't. She closed her eyes. "Please don't make me do it, Master."
"Ask me the question, Debra. Trust me as you did once, long ago."
That brought her eyes back open. While he still had that implacable look, there was something else there. A desire...a hope. Maybe a need for her to trust him.
He hadn't earned that. She knew that, rationally. But the plain truth of it was she'd never been able to deny him anything.
Beyond that, sometimes a project turned up data that provided answers for another project. The Delilah virus cure had required in-depth research on the makeup of the servant himself or herself. As such, it had led to a hypothesis, still under investigation, that vampire servants were humans chemically disposed to being servants. Once in contact with a vampire, the human's irresistible compulsion was to take the path that led to the full marking.
They'd done some preliminary research and found a general marker, but it seemed to have DNA linkages, suggesting many servants might have that compulsion only with vampires of a certain type of compatible anatomy. Chemical proof of soul mates, in a sense.
Remembering that untested hypothesis, as well as his changed behavior this week, the hopes he was trying to unbury inside her, she found the courage to ask the question.
"My lord...Master...did you..." She wet her lips, looked up at the moon. "When you did...what you did, with Lady Carmela, was it because..."
Did she really want an answer to such a painful question?
He slid his arm beneath her, lifting her into a sitting position to put himself behind her, his thighs bracketing her hips. Banding his arm across her chest, he touched his lips to her ear. "Ask it, Debra."
His chest was a comforting firm brace behind her. Her hand fell on his thigh, nails digging in as she curled her other fingers over his forearm. "Was it to protect me?"
"It would make me seem noble and self-sacrificing if I said yes, wouldn't it? You might find it in your heart to forgive me. But you would know that's not the full truth, and I won't let a lie stay between us."
She almost heard her heart crack. She would have done the unthinkable, scrambled away, run back to her room and close the door, but he tightened his arm around her. He wasn't done with her.
I'll never be done with you.
She might die from the pain of that. She was starting to understand all too well why some servants took their lives.
In a heartbeat, she was on her back on the blanket again and he was leaning over her, looking more menacing than she'd ever seen him. A quick look around told her they were still alone, that he wasn't bracing for an attack. Which meant that menace was directed toward her. Her heart skipped a beat as he captured her jaw in a bruising grip. The shadows of the night turned his eyes to storm fire. His fangs had unsheathed.
While Brian suffered from it far less than others, a vampire under the age of a hundred could be goaded to savagery, a loss of impulse control hazardous to everyone within reach. It appeared she had provoked it.
She froze, knowing it wouldn't save her any more than a hapless field mouse, but she couldn't have run from him anyway.
I forbid it, Debra. If even the thought of taking your life crosses your mind...
Her eyes widened at the terrible look on his face. It mattered to him.
"Of course it matters," he snarled. "What kind of monster do you think I am?"
When she flinched, he made a visible effort to rein himself back. He sat back on his heels, but straddled her thigh, his other hand braced alongside her hip, keeping her on her back.
She moistened her lips. "Tell me why you did it. Honestly."
"Except for that night, I've always been honest with you. Haven't I?"
He had. Which was why that night had always held some sense of wrongness, because it felt like he'd lied to her. She'd foolishly clung to the hope Jacob had dangled as to why Brian had done it, but her Master had just taken that slim hope away, denying it was for such a selfless reason. She'd known that anyway. She wasn't stupid. She just had never been able to figure out the whole of it. But would the truth help or make it worse? She tried to stave off the feeling that the ground was crumbling under her feet.
"He wasn't entirely wrong. Just not entirely right." Brian sighed, stroked her jaw, her neck, dropped his touch to the raised curve of one lace-clad breast. Then down even further, trailing along her stomach, a hip bone, the lace of her panties stretched over it. When he slid a fingertip below the edge, she trembled, hating him for being able to make her helpless to his desires when he was tearing her apart inside. His eyes darkened, seeing it, hearing it.
"I am a young vampire," he said quietly. "Even younger then than I am now. I was fighting for credibility among my own kind, espousing ideas many thought were pointless. Vampires are about politics and power struggles, not about working together to solve problems like fertility and sun vulnerabilities. Or a synthetic blood that might make us less dependent on human blood, just in case someone ever comes up with something even more virulent than the Delilah virus. I've always known my desire to research these things weren't idle curiosity, a personal hobby. Born vampires, the base stock for all vampires, are a terribly endangered species. A fragile one, in some ways."
He shook his head. "It was essential, especially because of my age -- let alone my outlandish ideas -- that I always appear completely detached, objective."
As he spoke, his gaze was sliding over her, an inch at a time it seemed, reminding her how thorough he could be, how detail-oriented. He caressed the other hip bone, making her twitch restlessly. Bending, he kissed her navel, rimmed it with his tongue. She was dying, her throat closed and choking her, heart aching. When she placed her hand on his head to stroke his hair and he turned enough to kiss her palm, she had to choke back another sob.
He lifted his head, met her gaze again. "I'd heard choosing your first full servant is a lot like a first crush. Having a servant to call my own, and one like you...it was a heady mix, such a brilliant woman willing to submit to me, become my servant." A shadow crossed his gaze. "I spoke to others about it. When I described you to them, how impressed I was with you, how much I wanted you, my feelings must have shown. They teased me. Normal hazing, not even unkind really. But I thought my behavior reinforced what they believed, that I was still going through growth spurts, and my scientific pursuits were simply a phase.
"Then you told me you loved me. You asked if I loved you back. An honest question. You weren't even nervous, so clear-eyed and direct. In your world, it simply is, right? Two people fall in love."
Tears trickled out of her eyes and he put his lips to her cheek, capturing one. He cradled the other si
de of her face, absorbing those tears in his palm.
"It seemed like the test I was waiting for, to prove to them and you that you didn't have that hold on me. I told myself I was teaching you a lesson, but I was teaching myself a lesson as well. Proving I had the self-control to accomplish everything I intended."
His gaze lifted to hers. "I was testing a hypothesis. 'If she hasn't affected my heart, then I can behave as if she doesn't matter. I can hurt her deeply and still continue to see her as my servant, expecting her to be my servant, no matter what I do to her.' I salved my conscience by reminding myself you came into the relationship fully informed."
"Women are known for an appalling lack of self-regard when they fall for a man," she said. She'd meant to sound wry, not bitter, but she knew she failed. The flash of hurt on his face startled her, but then it was gone, replaced by something softer.
