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She got back to work.
Chapter Two
Debra, stripped naked, cowered in the shadows. She was far too pale, because they'd fed on her too long. A shadow loomed over her, a ham-sized fist wrapping in her blond hair, the usually clean and shining strands lank and oily. She was food. Nothing more, nothing less.
When she was jerked to her feet, she fought despite her weakness, because she would. Most only saw a shy, socially awkward woman with a near constant frown of concentration on her face because of the rapid-fire workings of her brain, but Brian knew her courage never faltered.
He lunged forward, but he wasn't close enough. In that cloudy shift that happened during dreams, he knew he wasn't even in the room. He was watching events unfold as if he was inside her mind but in a remote location. She was suffering all this alone. Yet he could feel her clinging to his name in her mind. She was drawing strength from her connection to him, even though he couldn't reach out to her. The loss of that connection was like death itself.
The massive vampire sank his fangs into her throat, over her windpipe, strangling her as he took the blood. He wanted to drink her dry then kill her, because he was done with her, in the mood for a new taste. He picked up a scalpel, intending to carve her heart out of her chest and dine on it, the blood alone not enough. He had to consume all of her.
No.
Brian jacked up in his bed, sheets fisted in his hands. He had a snarl on his lips, his fangs fully unsheathed. Yet he confronted a dark room where there was nothing but himself and the echo of his fury.
Damn it. Ever since the night Debra had left the facility to help Gideon and Anwyn recover Daegan Rei from rogue vampires, he'd been plagued by these dreams. Because he'd tended the handful of traumatized human women who'd been kept in cells for months by those rogues, he couldn't forget their sallow faces, hopeless eyes and trembling fear. Debra hadn't been one of them, but irrationally, he kept imposing her face on theirs in his dreams.
As yet more evidence of his illogical state, he kept having to resist the temptation to order Debra to stay with him during his sleeping hours, so she'd be close enough for him to protect. Even though he was least capable of protecting her when stuck in his daylight coma. She'd be far more likely to sacrifice herself for him in such a vulnerable state.
He was behaving like an idiot.
If he told her to stay with him during daylight hours, and if she wasn't so respectful, she'd tell him he'd lost his mind. She was as much of a workaholic as he was, and such an indulgence would cut into the time they needed to manage their ongoing projects. The workload had blossomed, so demanding she was handling half the projects herself. He checked her notes and received a daily status update, but that was to satisfy his curiosity and enjoy what strides she'd made or brainstorm about new directions, not to check her work. Though she was several decades behind him in study, she was every bit as capable a scientist as himself.
But she was his.
The feeling that thought brought had no rational basis either, but ever since that harrowing night, such primitive feelings had been surfacing more and more. Along with those dreams. It irritated him. He had no time for such things, and neither did she. Science was their focus.
Not right now, though. Dominance, sexual and otherwise, was a part of vampire nature that couldn't be denied. Discovering the depth of her submissive nature when they'd met had therefore been a pleasure, but lately he found himself fighting a growing desire to explore it even deeper, underscore it further than he'd allowed himself since the earliest days of their relationship.
It was dangerous, a desire so strong it was an obvious craving, one he had in full color right now, much like his way-too-vivid dream. He tried to push it away, tamp it down as he usually did, knowing such urges were unwise. But that animalistic side snarled at the cool rational one, sending it cowering like the Debra in his dream. And seeing that image again decided him.
Reaching out to her in his mind, he found her at her desk in the lab, a corner office she'd created to stay accessible to the staff and run tests while handling the endless emails and data review.
Debra, come to my room. Right now.
Yes, my lord. On my way.
Her mellifluous voice was a mix of everything she was. The honed syllables emphasized her intelligence, the accurate information she provided never vague or exaggerated. The breathless quality suggested experiences that would take her breath away. And then there was that tagged purr, hinting at the sensuality that he could transform to pleading desire, a treasure that put gold to shame. He thought of the moistness of her lips, the honey between her thighs, the rapid pulse in her throat, her body arching up to him. And that helpless, wide-eyed sweet disbelief she experienced, every time she surrendered to him with such need and passion.
Usually when he summoned her, he'd pull out of her mind after she responded, turn to whatever task was waiting in his private lab. He might surface a half hour later to find her sitting in a chair in his chambers, pursuing her own work until he was ready to address her. The perfect servant. He didn't do that this time, waiting impatiently, sitting on the edge of the bed, every muscle tense.
When she slipped into the room, he saw she was dressed for work as usual. Being located at the Council headquarters, she was conscious of the potential for frequent interface with higher-ranking vampires, as well as the image she needed to present to the staff. Her tailored fawn-colored skirt stopped just above the knee, and the silk shot knit shirt with a wide scoop neck bared her collar bones. Neat and clean, the outfit unwittingly complimented all her curves, her delicate neck and fine facial features.
Most servants also dressed with their vampire's blood needs in mind. Seeing the scoop collar, the vulnerability of her slim throat, her blond-brown hair pinned up on her head, made his fangs want to extend again.
They could both see in the dark, though his night vision was sharper. He saw her surprise that he hadn't turned on a lamp, wasn't already at work. But she moved toward him. "My lord? What do you need?"
As she drew closer, he inhaled her scent. He detected her mice, sunflower seeds, cookies and pencil lead. She often liked to figure organically, despite her tablet being her constant companion. She set it aside as she approached him.
That was when he detected another odor clinging to her, one that provoked an unexpected reaction he didn't resist. Catching her wrist, he had her down on her back on the bed in a blink. He drove the breath out of her as he put himself on top of her, and not just because of his solid weight. He was wearing nothing but brief shorts and an aching hard-on that insinuated itself through the thin fabric of her skirt. His gaze latched on the swell of her breasts, accentuated by her arched position and the scooped collar.
"Why was Jacob this close to you?"
Her pulse jumped in her throat, trepidation mixed with arousal. It was the type of reaction one saw in a submissive who craved a Master's touch...his discipline. He didn't offer that very often to Debra. Feeling her mind swirling between anxiety and arousal at his harsh demand, he wondered why he didn't indulge that pleasure more often. Their permutations of Dominance and submission usually focused on her compliance to his sexual desires. Not his desire to test the limits of her submission in more creative ways. Ways that were goading his bloodlust now.
"Answer me."
"I...he comes to the lab daily. He's my friend. He hugged me." Her cheeks colored as he continued to glower at her. "Servants...are very affectionate, my lord. You know this."
"Don't tell me what I know and don't know. He did more than hug you."
"He kissed the top of my head. Sat me...I sat on his lap. Just affection, my lord." Her gaze darkened. "I am yours and he belongs fully to Lady Lyssa. It's simply how servants can be."
Which you would know if you took the time to look into my mind more often.
He didn't usually, not outside of the work they did in the lab, but he did at that key moment. When he growled, she started as if he'd goaded her with
a cattle prod.
"I apologize, my lord," she said, though the set of her chin made him wonder if she was truly sorry. He'd find out. "I wasn't trying to be impertinent."
"Yet you still managed it brilliantly."
Color stained her cheeks, but she said nothing further. She was obviously uncertain of this mood, but what filled his mind was she'd had that same set to her chin when she fought the enemy in his dreams. He'd let her leave that night, let her go near danger without him. Yes, he'd been needed at the Berlin castle for vital reasons related to that rescue attempt, but that wasn't the point.
