Part 2 (1/2)

”You're getting yourself worked up. I can feel it. So I decided to listen in. He understands, Anwyn. He's giving you time to work it out in your own head.”

”Problem is, he understands too well. He thinks as long as I'm mad about it, he needs to stay away. I need him here.”

”To torture him?”

”Yes.” No. I just need you both here. I can't explain it. No. I just need you both here. I can't explain it. Gideon was her left foot, Daegan her right, and she was hopping like some off-balance rabbit, waiting for wolves to notice her. On the days when her seizures would come up on her fast and unawares, sometimes so fast even Gideon couldn't react to them quickly enough with his precognitive senses, it was worse. But the temperature checks and other measurements Brian had been taking were helping. As long as she stayed completely regimented, no deviations from her schedule, no stressors. At the first, she was relieved to have some predictability, but now she was starting to feel as if she were in a prison again. Gideon was her left foot, Daegan her right, and she was hopping like some off-balance rabbit, waiting for wolves to notice her. On the days when her seizures would come up on her fast and unawares, sometimes so fast even Gideon couldn't react to them quickly enough with his precognitive senses, it was worse. But the temperature checks and other measurements Brian had been taking were helping. As long as she stayed completely regimented, no deviations from her schedule, no stressors. At the first, she was relieved to have some predictability, but now she was starting to feel as if she were in a prison again.

Maybe she'd blame Daegan less if he wasn't hiding from her behind some pathetic excuse of looking out for her best interests. If he was here, with her, the way he should be. But all of it . . . He'd known she'd miss him. He'd known how badly she'd react to the choices he took away from her. Yet he'd done it anyway, to protect her, to care for her. To save her life and force her to want to live.

She was hating him for loving her.

The wry humor dissipated in that wave of despair that could come up and swamp her, make her limbs shake at the memory of what had pa.s.sed, what she faced in the future. She knew enough about Daegan's world to know a vampire had to be in control of herself at all times. If she became the weak member of the pack . . .

”Hey.” Gideon's hands settled on her shoulders. ”Neither Daegan nor I are going to let anything happen to you.”

”You know, I used to scoff at those biblical pa.s.sages about 'pride goeth before a fall.' There's a fine line between confidence and dependence. I think somewhere along the way I went from being confident in my self-sufficiency to dependent on it, to define myself. And here I am, completely dependent on you, a man who doesn't want to be a vampire's servant; Lord Brian, who I didn't even know three weeks ago, and his Dr. Frankenstein experiments; and Daegan, who . . . I can't even think about without feeling so angry. While missing him makes it hurt to breathe.”

”Good thing you don't have to breathe anymore.”

”Yeah, it's all a f.u.c.king cosmic joke.” She surged up, away from his touch, sc.r.a.ping her hands through her hair. ”Don't look at me like that, like you're gauging when I'm going to have a meltdown, like I'm some freaking mental patient. I just . . . d.a.m.n it . . .”

Gideon was already moving toward her, that look on his face. He could antic.i.p.ate the seizures sometimes as much as two or three minutes before they happened, sometimes five or ten, if they came upon her when she was calmed. He already had Brian's restraints in his hands.

Though she was furious, she had enough control left to thrust out her wrists. Gideon latched them, then guided her to the floor so he could put on the ankle ones. She could roll around this way, thrash, destroy her clothes with vomit, but she couldn't get free.

Tears she never could seem to hold back when this happened spilled out of her eyes. The other good thing about the restraints was Gideon didn't have to leave her alone in the modified dungeon cell they'd used earlier. Sliding down the wall, he brought her into the shelter of his bent thighs, crossing his arms over her chest as she latched her fingers onto his forearms. While there was some danger that she could break bones even with the strength in her fingers, he'd told her he was a third mark; he'd heal fast. No matter how angry she got, no matter what was happening before or after, he never denied her this when the seizures came to take her.

”Gideon.” She spoke between clenched teeth, straining against it. The cacophony of voices rose. They would suck her down into their particular h.e.l.l and make her into one of them, a mindless monster who wanted only blood and death. Making her feel like she'd never emerge from it, or if she did, she'd wake up among the carnage she'd created. ”Please . . . don't let them . . .”

”Don't fight it, sweetheart. That makes it worse. Let it come. We'll talk when it's done. It's not real. I promise. It's not.”

She knew that until she was inside of it, and then there had never been anything so real to her, rendering her desolate, a broken creature who would have to pull it all back together again. Until one day, her mind would break and not heal again. Just like Barnabus, controlled by those voices, killing the innocent, destroying lives . . .

”If we can't get this under control . . . If I can't ever be on my own again, I want you to-”

She'd promised she'd never ask it of him, but she'd learned untested promises meant very little. The madness swept over her, brought on by her stress about Daegan's absence and the sheer unpredictability of the blood, the painful need of that dream, so it remained unsaid. But she knew Gideon knew.

Before the seizure took her away from him, she wondered if that was the real reason he'd been brought into her life. Not to protect her or preserve her life, but to end it.

3.

”I NEED a reading during coitus.” NEED a reading during coitus.”

Dinner was almost over. Anwyn glanced up from the last swallow of her blood c.o.c.ktail, neatly presented in a winegla.s.s that picked up the candelight on the table. She'd never done much entertaining in her apartment beneath Atlantis, but she did have a six-person dining room table off the kitchen. Most of the time, she'd used it for spreading out tax receipts and other projects related to running her business, but since arriving Debra had dug things out of storage she'd almost forgotten she had. Place mats, attractive dinnerware pieces she'd picked up in boutiques more for their pleasing appearance than a coordinated theme.

”Excuse me?” she asked, aware of Gideon's gaze snapping up from his plate. While she and Brian were taking blood only, Brian's servant had prepared an appetizing combination of steak and potatoes for Gideon, with a side vegetable ca.s.serole and salad for her. She'd made enough to share with Gideon, if he felt the need to ingest something green and reasonably healthy.

When they'd first started this dinner ritual, Anwyn had been bemused by the way Gideon offered to help Debra in the kitchen. It was as if a middle-cla.s.s boy surfaced from the vampire hunter he'd become, recalling the manners of that long-ago life. She'd felt a twinge of something, not unlike jealousy, when he'd gotten a smile from the girl. He'd told her his cooking talents were limited to his McDonald's drive-thru navigation skills. So he'd been put to work setting the table, chopping vegetables and performing other less complicated domestic tasks.

”Lord Brian needs to get readings while you're having s.e.x, Mistress Anwyn,” Debra, the paragon of culinary efficiency, said now. It was as if there'd been an unspoken communication from her Master that it would be better for her to lead on the topic. ”As you know, the worst convulsions are triggered by negative stressors. The body experiences a different yet just as volatile type of stress during o.r.g.a.s.m. Therefore, he needs to see the variations so he can further tune the injection he's giving you. Having readings from all your daily activities will help with that.”

”I see.”

On the floor of Club Atlantis, submissives addressed Dominants when given permission to do so, but to impart information, not to instruct. Vampires and servants had a similar pecking order, and from Daegan she knew they were very cognizant of that. While Brian might be trying to help her, knowing her history and wanting to give her the rea.s.surance of talking to a woman, she was allowing herself to be treated as less than a peer. It was a subtle thing, but one that frissoned through her vampire blood and told her she couldn't let that happen. Not in this new world. The information should be coming directly from Brian to her.

So now she turned her gaze to Brian, arching a brow. ”Will masturbation provide the same data?”

He cleared his throat, giving her some small satisfaction at her reminder that on some things, at least, she didn't need kid gloves.

”Similar enough. And tonight would be preferable,” he said, with just the right note of apology and concern in his eyes.

”All right. But I want to know something. The first night Debra made us dinner, when she pulled out the table settings, she stopped and looked at you, as if waiting for an answer to an unspoken question. You said, 'We'll all eat at the table. No games.' What did that mean?”

”Good memory.” Brian nodded. ”You remember Lord Daegan said you and your servant were exclusive until your transition was complete and he returned?”

Dear G.o.ddess, let him come home before the transition is complete. That could take up to three months. If she had to wait three months to see him, she might completely lose it. But she nodded. She felt Gideon's gaze on her, knew he might have heard that thought. If she had to wait three months to see him, she might completely lose it. But she nodded. She felt Gideon's gaze on her, knew he might have heard that thought.

”Vampire social gatherings always involve s.e.xual games with the servants. It's required by etiquette, and there are many political strategies worked out through such games. Though it's also for the pleasure of the diners.”

Brian lifted his winegla.s.s without glancing toward Debra. Putting down her fork, she immediately rose, took it from his hand and went to the sidebar to pour him another gla.s.s. ”During a typical social gathering,” he continued, ”a vampire's servant either stands behind her Master's chair, or kneels next to him, if he wants to feed her portions of the meal he's sampling.” He glanced at her blood-laced wine. ”You and I are not sampling human food. And I am here merely for your protection and diagnostics. Therefore, it made more sense to have our servants join us at the table and engage in conversation. Keep it more informal and relaxed.”

”So this is the vampire version of eating dinner at home, in front of the TV?”

Brian inclined his head toward Gideon, acknowledging the sardonic question. ”If you like. But there have been times, even when eating alone, that I have bade my servant perform at my direction as she would at a gathering. Test runs, to help her confidence.” He turned his gaze back to Anwyn, a clear message there. ”As well as for my own pleasure.”

Brian s.h.i.+fted from absentminded genius professor to urbane and well-versed dinner guest with barely a grinding of gears. Since he was a born vampire, his father a Region Master, it shouldn't surprise her that he'd been trained to handle himself that way. Had Daegan imposed that directive about Brian not sharing servants because he didn't think her capable of the other right now? Or he didn't want to share her with anyone? Perhaps he was concerned about how Gideon would handle such a situation. She'd caught his sharp glance at the exchange. She knew Gideon wasn't going to partic.i.p.ate in anything like that, because she could hear it in his head. A cold day in h.e.l.l before that will happen . . . A cold day in h.e.l.l before that will happen . . .

It was no less than what she expected, but it still added to the heavy, cold weight in her lower belly. Every day she grew more dependent on him, the first man in her life she could say that about and not feel she'd betrayed herself. When he left . . .

By the time that happens, you'll be on your feet again, Anwyn. You'll have graduated, gotten your full-fledged bat wings and not need me in your head anymore.

How do you know?

Because I know you. And because I won't leave until that happens.

Was it something perverse in her that wanted to test that?

”What kind of things?” she asked Brian with not-so-casual interest. Crossing her forearms, she leaned forward, toying with the stem of her gla.s.s. Her nostrils flared, catching the scent of fresh blood as Debra cut her wrist with a tiny pearl-handled knife she'd had tucked in her bodice, let it flow into Brian's gla.s.s. He drank white wine, so the crimson exploded like a flower blooming, sparkling in the candlelight Debra had set in the center of the table.

Brian glanced toward his servant. She'd changed for dinner. While Anwyn expected it was still demure and casual by vampire standards, the short, sleeveless lavender dress hugged Debra's curves and gave her gray eyes a violet hue. Her hair was down, and the straight strands teased her fine cheekbones and lightly glossed lips.

As if visually recalling some of those ”tests,” Brian's gaze lingered on her as he spoke. ”Simple things. Requiring that she strip naked and cook me human food, gourmet choices. Then lie on the table before me, with those samples placed on her body so I can use her as my table, my plate. Sometimes I bind her to a chair, with a vibrator inside her, and watch her writhe and beg to come while I drink her fresh blood from a gla.s.s and go over my notes for the day. If she's been a little too opinionated”-his eyes glinted as she turned back toward the table carrying the wine-”she kneels between my knees and holds my c.o.c.k in her mouth as long as I demand. Not sucking or stimulating, merely holding it, feeling it grow harder until it fills her mouth and pushes into her throat.”

Brian took the gla.s.s from his servant, his hand closing over hers. Debra was still, her eyes lowered, her lips pressed together, but Anwyn recognized the flush of arousal on her soft cheeks. She wasn't wearing a bra, because her nipples were points pressing against the fabric.

Gideon had put down his fork, sat back. Though he was trying to stay removed and wary from the turn in the conversation, Anwyn could tell the images Brian had painted were affecting him, as they would any male with alpha tendencies. Which her vampire hunter had in spades.