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"When my father died of a heart attack, they let me go see the funeral, from a distance. They buried him next to my grave, which has a body in it that isn't me."
He thought about how his mother would feel if he or one of his brothers was killed in a car accident, then thought about faking it, being alive to know he'd caused her that anguish. He didn't even want to imagine it, which explained the anguish that remained in her voice, all these years later.
She went back to staring out the window. "I've never returned. I never even go near that town, and I avoid the state if I can. Doesn't matter. I expect Mom is gone now, or close to it, and I haven't seen my siblings in nearly forty years. What will she think when she gets to heaven and finds I'm not there? Finds out the truth?"
They were coming in for a landing. For the next few moments, they were silent again as he brought the plane down, but once it was taxiing down the runway, he reached out, touched her hand.
"I expect she'll realize it was all done to protect her, because her daughter loved her that much."
Her gaze came
back to him at that, as if recalling herself and her first responsibility. "Quinn, I need you to listen to me. I know the core of you is about protecting me, but when we're with Butch...it's likely he's going to get rough, to make a point about me being in his territory without his permission, about bringing this kind of problem to his door without any heads-up. If you interfere with however he reacts toward me, he will kill you without even blinking, and it will go even worse for me. You understand?"
He'd brought the plane to a stop at the end of the runway as he'd been instructed. He didn't see any welcome party, but beyond the runway lights, it was full dark. Then he saw the flash of headlights, a signal to draw their attention. With the enhanced night vision the third mark gave him, Quinn could discern an SUV waiting, just as Dix had said. He signaled back and the runway lights were cut, apparently their plane being the only arrival tonight. "What are we talking about? Him hitting you?" No way in hell was he standing by for that.
"Possibly. Very likely, at the least." She gripped his wrist, hard, her nails digging in, and he registered the strain on her face. "This is incredibly important, Quinn. Whatever happens here, I can handle. I can endure. It won't be any worse than what I dealt with under Laurent and during my forced transition. Now that I've third marked you, I can draw strength from you to handle this. I can't do that if you're dead."
Practical, but he could tell from her expression her reason for telling him wasn't for her own benefit. "If I was too weak to stop myself from marking you," she said steadily, "linking your life with mine, please don't destroy me by getting yourself killed as a result of this. Be there for me after. Your job during is simply to be an obedient servant. Don't walk ahead of me, don't speak unless spoken to. I don't know what kind of vampire Butch is, but they can run from really formal and uptight to far more relaxed. It's better to err on the side of the former. Promise me. Please."
He was pretty sure her nails were drawing blood, but he covered her hand with his, met her gaze. "I'll do my very best. I promise. But I can tell you, standing by while some asshole beats on a woman is probably the hardest thing anyone could ask of me."
"Don't think of it that way. This is the vampire world, not the human one. Think of what we are when it's just the two of us, together." She put her hand on his jaw, her thumb touching his lips. "When we're in my world, we have to be something very different, but if we think of that facade as a way to earn those 'together' times, we can get through it, right? Just go somewhere else in your head. Out in the pastures, with a butterfly resting on your hand."
"Where do you go in your head?"
A light smile played on her lips. "I mix new drinks, think of new tricks to amaze the patrons. I love running a bar. Love the customers, love the way it all comes together when it's being done right. I was hoping to open my own place one day before I was turned. I never did that great in school, decided to head for the big city and become a bartender after I graduated high school. It was what I always wanted to do."
"Well, After Dark isn't the bigs, but we're sure glad to have you. Hope you'll consider working there for quite a while."
"Maybe. I've taken a liking to the boss. For all that he hovers sometimes and sticks his nose in where it's not needed."
The lights flashed again.
"Think they're getting impatient." Quinn leaned over to brush his lips over hers. She touched his face again and they held that way for a couple blinks. He took a breath. "Let's do this."
The driver was a tall, steady-eyed ranch hand from Blood Rock. He introduced himself as Jim, and told Selene point blank he was a second mark, making it clear why he didn't seem to think it unusual to retrieve guests in the middle of the night from Butch's private air strip. Other than that, he was as typical as any other hand. He and Quinn made idle chitchat about ranch-related topics on the drive, for which Quinn was grateful, since the normalcy of it helped him ground himself. He did wonder about whether all vampires had an array of servants with second and third marks, but Selene answered that.
An overlord will often have a variety of staff members with second marks he trusts who are part of his household. It's rare to have more than one third mark at a time, however. Dix is probably Butch's only full servant.
So it meant third marks were exclusive, special. She gave him a look tinged with exasperation at his fishing, and he squeezed her knee in the shadows.
She didn't join the conversation for the most part, only a short comment here or there when they discussed the bar. Jim mostly talked to Quinn anyway. It might be he had that shyness that most ranch hands had around a pretty female. Quinn bet Selene could get the guy to loosen up if he was bellied up to the bar at After Dark, but that wasn't her focus right now.
It occurred to Quinn then that her aloof behavior and Jim studiously not directing comments to her could be due to the protocol that went along with two vampires getting together. When Quinn put his hand back over hers in the shadows, she let him hold it, give her his warmth, but when they turned up the road leading to Blood Rock, she let him go.
From here forward, you act as my servant, Quinn.
Yes ma'am. He gave her that smile that usually loosened her up, but she was looking out the window. It was as if she'd suddenly drawn an impenetrable box around her, separating herself from him and the driver, a dividing line between species. He quelled an uneasy feeling about that, holding on to her words. Think of that facade as a way to earn those 'together' times...
The Blood Rock made the size of his place look like Annette's tiny herb garden behind the kitchen, but that was okay. He hadn't ever wanted the biggest spread, just a place of his own to run the way he wanted to run it. His dad might never have had his own place, but he had taught Quinn running something well mattered. It became yours, even if it wasn't that way on the deed. Well, now he had both of those things. But it made him think of what Selene had said about running After Hours. Maybe she felt that way too, another thing that connected them.
He liked the looks of Butch's main house. It was a sprawling creation of limestone, granite and flagstone capped with red clay Mexican roofing tiles, the grounds accented with native Texas flora and fauna. As they pulled up the drive, Dix was waiting on the front walkway.
Quinn opened the door for Selene as Jim pulled their two overnight cases from the trunk. They'd packed light, though on the plane they'd worn their more dressy clothes, Selene indicating this was considered a formal audience. As a result, she wore a pair of slacks and a camisole top accented with some silver jewelry. It made her look understated sexy, conservative and in charge. He'd worn dress jeans and a shirt with pearl buttons, as well as his silver-tipped cowboy boots, reasoning he should wear what Butch would consider dressy. Selene had approved, saying a suit on a servant would be too much in these circumstances.
Dix came down the steps to meet them in the drive. "Thanks, Jim. I've got them from here."
"Sure thing, Dix." As the car moved away, Dix gave Selene a short bow. "Ma'am. Welcome to Blood Rock." He sent Quinn a cordial nod and a look, where Quinn got the feeling he was being measured up in a lot of ways. In his business, he was used to the what-kind-of-asshole-is-this look from another man, weighing the value of his professional or personal acquaintance, but he and Dix were already past that. This was a deeper level, a does-this-guy-know-what-he's-in-for look.
Unfortunately, it made him think of what Selene had implied at the bar. He hadn't given it thought before now, other things taking precedence, but if Dix was Butch's servant, and all vampire-servants had the Dom/sub thing happening, did that mean Butch swung toward guys? Quinn thought both of them pretty much oozed the straight-guy thing, but in the Texas cattle world, to do otherwise wouldn't be too smart.
Quinn cleared his throat. He couldn't do anything about that, but he could watch Dix closely, figure out the servant thing by imitation. He hadn't offered to shake Selene's hand as one peer to another, but given her that bow. It told Quinn even if she was the lowest vampire on the totem pole, t
he highest servant was still beneath her. Selene underscored it by giving Dix a neutral nod back, but his Mistress wasn't overly snooty about it. She was doing what was expected. A facade, just as she said. It reassured Quinn, somewhat.
"If you'll follow me, Butch will see you first thing to discuss your issue." As they stepped into the foyer, Dix handed off their bags to a quiet Mexican woman who didn't even meet their eyes, just disappeared like a shadow. "She'll put your things in your guestroom, Miss Torres. Quinn's in the adjacent bedroom."
Quinn was going to open his mouth and say that they could go in the same room, but a warning flicker from Selene kept him from it. It's customary for a servant to have smaller quarters adjacent to a vampire. You are invited to my bed according to my desires.
Even her mind voice sounded more remote, formal. But was it weird his cock tingled at how it echoed her Mistress tone? Other than the dawn, was that why she left him upstairs and went to the cellar most nights? Yeah, some of this might be show, but he was reminded he was also dealing with a woman who was a Mistress, all the other bullshit aside, and it wrapped up nicely with the vampire thing. It bemused him that hearing that tone now could get him a bit revved, but he figured that might be helpful, keep his mind off other less pleasant things.
Dix escorted them down a wide hallway. Quinn noted Butch was a Jim Daly fan, possessing some of his limited-edition prints, as well as those of other artists who captured Texas' wide-open spaces and the type of people it attracted. He also had an unexpected thing for gargoyles, a fair collection of them along the hallway. Small ones, large ones, medium ones, arrayed like a leering, grinning audience that were by turns whimsical, sad or frightening, but highly detailed, as if they'd been living beings frozen there. Strangely, it worked with the art, that mix of Texas western and fantasy legends.
They stepped into a large study, dominated by a massive mahogany desk, several big easy chairs and couch, a wall of books and a foursome of flat-screens, one of which was muted but displaying a basketball game. Butch was sitting in the big chair behind the desk, his booted foot pressed against the frame beneath it, which Quinn saw had been wrapped with an industrial foam to protect it from such treatment.
