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That she'd posed the question meant she'd suspected, but she would be wondering how he'd been able to conceal it, because a vampire's strength correlated to his approximate age, and vampires were able to detect the relative strength of potential friend or foe. When asked about his Templar background, he'd always intimated that he'd been inducted into their ranks in the early 1300s, right at the time the Order was disbanded, but that he'd continued to serve in various capacities as the scattered members relocated. Most thought that put him close to the eighth century mark, and he was able to mask his strength to match that impression.
That strength-to-age parity was one of the things that made Evan, the vampire Uthe had sired, vulnerable to other vampires. His protege had the strength of a hundred-year-old vampire, and was therefore often mistaken for being that age, though he was over three hundred now. Lord Brian thought it was because of lingering effects of the wasting disease that had come so close to taking his life as a mortal.
"Do you have an exact count? Or a guess?" Her eyes twinkled. "I can't remember mine anymore without effort."
"It was around 950 A.D. I believe. Give or take a couple decades."
Her lips pursed. "One day, I hope you'll tell me stories of your life at that time. We can find how close and how often we came to crossing paths."
Playing seven degrees of separation was a favorite pastime of vampires of advanced age, but the chance he and Lyssa would have that opportunity in this lifetime was slim.
"Perhaps God will be merciful and we'll share a garden in Paradise together. We can sit and share all, like old humans in their rockers at a nursing home." Would they be content, knowing the Lord's Will had been well served in their lives? Or be tormented by what had been left undone? In which case, he expected it wouldn't be Paradise at all, but some form of Purgatory.
Her mouth thinned. "My preference is to have your company on this side of the Veil again, Lord Uthe, before we face what lies beyond it. However, wherever I meet you again, I will look forward to it. And remember what I said." Her gaze locked on his face. "Whatever you need after your quest, I hope you will know you can find it here."
He could not answer that, for the thickness to his throat had returned. Offering her another short bow, he took his leave.
* * *
Mariela was waiting for him in his chambers at dawn. He allowed her to undress him, and then he took her into his bed, a twining of naked limbs and torsos. When he pressed her to her back, he saw the tears shining unshed in her eyes before she hid her face in his shoulder, her arms holding him urgently. He gave her the gift he'd promised, holding nothing back. He spilled his seed in her wet heat, making sure she came to a pinnacle with him. He brought her to another orgasm with his mouth, and a final with his fingers, enjoying the slippery sensation of her clit and labia spasming under his fingers. Women were endlessly responsive, something he'd always enjoyed watching. He made her drink from his throat, then let her sleep. He'd exhausted her as intended, and when she fell asleep in his arms, he kept his lips against her temple, his mind inside hers one last time, following the pleasant drift of her dreams.
Like most dreams, they were nothing cohesive. Snippets of this and that while she rocked along on the waves of sleep. He realized he was going to miss being in her mind. What if that connection had helped keep him more balanced and focused? Without it, he would feel even more isolated...than he'd always been.
Mariela was the only third marked servant he'd ever had. Up until her, the bond had not fit with where his path had taken him. With Hugh's warning always in his head, he knew he couldn't afford to get overly dependent on someone else's companionship. His fate, his mission, had always required severe mental isolation. It was best to reinforce that with actual physical isolation. But as a Council vampire, the day-to-day demands, the need for an easy blood source, and then the availability of an Inherited Servant for that purpose, had made taking a third mark seem a functional convenience. An InhServ was a safe choice, more formal, controlled, detached. He could have simply second marked her, but no Council vampire was without a third mark servant, and he had always been conscious of the need to blend.
But was that the true reason he'd capitulated? He hadn't expected things to change so drastically in the past decade, such that the bond with Mariela had become a lifeline of sorts, a way to not feel so alone.
He wasn't alone. Had his faith faltered so much that he thought severing his bond with Mariela would abandon him to a hellish abyss, the void of his own mind? His gut cramped, realizing that was exactly what he feared. He'd fought on the side of armies who were vastly outnumbered, he'd been cornered by aggressive vampires, he'd been trapped in places where the sun would have reduced him to ash if he hadn't figured out how to escape in time. All this time, he'd feared nothing...except becoming the one thing he feared most.
Forgive me my weakness, oh Lord. I will not fail you. I am not alone as long as I walk Your path.
He fell into fitful dreams full of shadows. Demons reached out to him, their fingers like fat slugs impregnated with barbs that latched onto his skin. They dug in and drew him down into oblivion where he would know nothing, remember nothing. But as he thrashed, as he fought, a hand reached through that, clasped him, drew him free. He was back in that silver tower with the scent of magic, clean air and peace. Only he didn't see green and silver eyes in the face bending over his. Dark eyes watched him, sensual fingers sliding down his throat, opening his shirt. Keldwyn's mouth was on his chest, his long hair on Uthe's bare skin. The Fae moved his touch between Uthe's legs, cupping his balls, rubbing his cock. As Uthe arched into the stimulation, he realized his arms were bound above his head, his body a feast for the Fae's pleasure. It didn't inspire panic. Far from it. Here in his dreams, he could be safe.
There is a freedom of thought and feeling in the service of a Master.
Surrendering all to a Master...
It was as if he were in an elevator that dropped suddenly, jolting his eyes open. He knew it was broad daylight, early afternoon, a time he wouldn't normally wake unless something had disturbed him. Mariela's scent was upon him and his sheets, as well as that of the coupling they'd shared. A desolate emptiness swept through him. He pushed up, logy, his mind spinning. He couldn't figure out what was going on, where he was, what...why did things feel upside down?
"Easy." Keldwyn's voice was against his ear, part of his dream. "Lie back down, my lord. Your servant is with Lord Brian. I suspect the procedure is complete and that's why you are feeling so out of sorts."
"Brian said...easier for vampire. She should be disoriented. Not me. Why am I..."
"You know why. It's all right. I'm here. Just lie back down with me. We'll talk chess. I still think you cheated last time."
"We play chess."
"Of course, my lord. Several times a week." Keldwyn was somehow easing him back down onto the sheets. He had his arm over Uthe's chest, was coiled up behind him. He never slept naked, always in lounging pants and a shirt, with the candle burning on the dresser. A Templar slept in his breeches and shirt, and kept a light on through the night.
He'd fallen asleep in the dark, without clothing, for Mariela. The sheets were tangled over Uthe so he felt the press of the other male's thighs against the back of his own through the cloth, but the heat of his body came through the thin fabric. He wasn't alone. Even though something was missing in his mind, far too many things, he wasn't alone. That was the most important thing right now. Uthe wrapped his fingers over Keldwyn's forearm. He was wearing one of those laced shirts, and Uthe plucked at it, irritated at not being able to get past the cloth to the flesh. He tugged harder.
"Hold on. Don't rip it." Keldwyn lifted away from
him, shifting in a way that told Uthe he was stripping off the offending garment. "Here, let's do this."
Uthe flinched as the shirt, folded into a thick strip, was wrapped around his eyes. He put up his hand to stop him, but Keldwyn tapped his knee against Uthe's tense ass. "It will help. Closes out a sense you don't need right now and reduces input."
Uthe thought he was wrong about that. Keldwyn's scent, captured in the fibers so close to Uthe's nose, increased other stimuli considerably. Somewhere in his fuzzy mind, he remembered not to pull Keldwyn's wrist to his mouth to bite the male, but it was a close thing. He gripped Keldwyn's forearm, banded across his chest once more. The straight lines of bone to the wrist were layered with prominent veins and sleek muscle, evidence of a male warrior who worked out with weapons. There was a light layer of hair over the firm flesh.
Keldwyn moved the sheets out of the way. Since he was wearing those tight, thin leggings he favored, when he brought his legs up to cradle Uthe's ass again, what pressed against his buttocks was unmistakably a generous-sized cock.
Though he'd had a strong sexual reaction to the male for some time, the response Uthe had now was deeper and even more intense. Keldwyn's contact wasn't a message about sex alone. It was about want, connection. Impending possession.
It was best just to sleep. He took deep, slow breaths, because the act was rhythmic and helpful. He kept his fingers latched over Keldwyn's forearm, and the male stroked his hair, his shoulder, his side. He was curled up naked in the shelter of the Fae's body. Uthe recognized it as a vulnerable position, but he felt better, stronger, with Keldwyn's heat against his back. Reaching back and up, he found some of his hair. Since the Fae male had so much of it, it wasn't a difficult task. Uthe pulled some forward over his shoulder like a cloak, those few strands bringing him as much warmth as a blanket.
"Sleep, my lord," Keldwyn said, and this time Uthe heard sadness and regret. They all had those, though. It was impossible to live as long as they did without them. His own deepest regrets had happened within the first fifty years of his existence. Would regret disappear when awareness did? Why was Keldwyn sad?
