Beloved Vampire (15 page)

Well, then, she was never wearing that again. She tried to push away the thought of how his body had felt, molded against hers in the thin fabric. In truth, his arms had been the most effective restraint of all, if the intention of the manacles was to keep her from a self-destructive panic attack. At least once she’d woken to find her cheek pillowed on his biceps, her hands hooked on his crossed forearms, holding on. In the nonjudgmental torpor of half sleep, it had been reassuring enough to send her back to dreamlessness.

He was a vampire. But he was Farida’s Mason. How did she reconcile the two?

Jess moved to the closet. She reminded herself again it was time to pull it together. Several days ago, she’d been a dying woman with flagging energy. This morning . . . well, she didn’t feel that way, and while it was damned irritating, she was back to paying attention, wanting to use whatever weapon came to hand to change her circumstances. Of course, now that she was fully marked, her mind told her escape attempts were futile, but she’d followed the instinct too long to abandon it. At least until she figured out a better strategy.

“So how did you come to Lord Mason?” she asked, pawing through the selections.

“I was part of a prince’s household, valued for my dancing skills. Lord Mason was visiting the prince on business, and Enrique . . .”

Jessica turned as Amara hesitated, then her lovely face creased in a smile. “We saw each other quite often during that visit. He was very resourceful. Then the prince presented me to Lord Mason as a gift, and I learned that Enrique had entreated my lord to bring me into his service. Enrique and I fell in love quite quickly.”

Looking at the soft light in her eyes, Jessica didn’t doubt it, though it was a peculiar relationship for her to contemplate. “But you . .

. dance, for Lord Mason?”

Amara nodded. “I usually dance for him once each week, if you wish to watch. Lord Mason likes the performance as part of his meal.”

“Thanks, but no. I don’t have any interest in being near that.” She shuddered involuntarily, remembering, and couldn’t help flinching when Amara came close enough to touch her shoulder. “Not that I expect I have a choice,” she added bitterly.

Today Mason’s servant had her long black hair loose over her shoulders. Her skirt had melted colors like a sunset, over which she wore a belted tunic embroidered with tiny, glittering stones. Jessica wondered if she rose from bed this way, tempting and touchable. She’d no doubt that Enrique’s French blood had gone to the boiling point at the sight of her. Most men’s would. Hell, she herself had responded to the woman.

“Jessica, you do have a choice. You do not have to be there at all. But there’s a screened balcony area and you could watch.

Maybe it will reassure you. I think you should see the way a true vampire-servant relationship is supposed to be.”

“I don’t want to be reassured. I don’t want to lower my guard. I just want out of here.” Jessica shrugged off the touch and stepped farther into the closet, presenting her back to the woman.

“I understand that, but when the bond is true, there is nothing to fear. Even Enrique and I, having one another, have not achieved as deep a bond as most servants seek with their Master. That has been Lord Mason’s choice, but we find great joy in what he offers us.”

“I’ve seen that bond, Amara,” Jessica retorted. “Raithe’s servants captured my fiancé and delivered him into Raithe’s hands. He killed Jack in front of me. If having a loyalty so unquestioning you’d use it to kill innocent people is a ‘joy’ to you, you’re right. It’s something I never want to know. And it doesn’t matter if you tell me he’s a fucking saint; he won’t win my trust. I went far enough down that road, too many times, and I still bear the burn scars. Never again. So save your breath.”

She could feel Amara studying her. “You’re wrong, Jess,” the woman said softly at last. “I do not wish to upset you, but you haven’t seen that bond, for Raithe never offered it to you.”

Jess curled her fingers in the clothes, a reaction to her surge of resentment, but decided not to respond. Most of the clothes were lightweight garb similar to what she’d worn the day before, but some were more modest. Jess chose a tunic top and matching long skirt, embroidered with tiny mirrors and beads. “Do I have any underwear?”

Amara directed her to a dresser with a selection of bras and panties. Jess searched through them until she found a turquoise satin set that at least provided grudging full coverage of her ass. When she took it all into the bathroom, she found an assortment of toiletries. While Amara did allow her to close the door for a few minutes for privacy, she had to leave it open while dressing. It could be worse. She could still be wearing the manacles. But Amara’s hovering had a similar itchy feeling.

Once she was dressed, Amara took her through the sprawling estate to a large kitchen, introduced her to the cook staff and parked her at a butcher-block table. It was a relaxed, informal eating space, and the plateful of food they put before her reminded her vividly how long it had been since she’d actually felt hungry. Jessica stared at the fresh fruit, the sharp cheddar cheese, the single piece of chocolate sitting on a gold circle of foil on the corner. She also had a cup of ripe wine, and a tall glass of ice water.

Everything had wonderful aromas and colors, but it wasn’t too much food, not enough to stuff herself. Picking up each piece slowly, she inhaled it, closed her eyes to chew, entranced with food that tasted good again.

While the staff was not unfriendly, they didn’t attempt to engage her in conversation. A few surreptitious glances came her way, but for this first meal, the scrutiny didn’t bother her. As she ate, Amara and the cook chatted, the other three members of the staff moving about efficiently.

The import of that hit her, such that she dropped the chocolate, untasted. “Why are there so many of you?” she demanded.

Amara and the cook looked toward her. “What do you mean, Jess?” Amara asked.

“One vampire. No guests. Why are there three of you?” Jess was on her feet and backing away from the table, that need for flight kicking in as Amara rose from her stool. “He doesn’t need a damn cook and three kitchen staff, unless he plans to have guests.

Unless he’s expecting other vampires to visit.”

“Very few vampires visit me. You’ve had the good fortune to fall into the hands of the most unsociable vampire in the Western hemisphere. However, I am doing necessary renovations and have contractors to feed.”

She found him standing behind her, leaning in the doorway, so her first view as she spun was a wall of chest. He was wearing a dark T-shirt, and as she lifted her gaze she saw his hair was loose for once, the strands enhancing the sculpted curve of jaw, temple and straight nose. She made herself focus on his vibrant eyes, and not the fact he was wearing the same jeans as earlier, and how distracting the fit could be to a woman’s libido.

“I’m glad you approve of my fashion sense.”

“Bite me,” she snapped, then colored as his brow rose. “Stop it,” she muttered. Pivoting on her heel, she marched back to the table and sat down. “Command your minions and then go away. I can’t eat with you here.”

“Always testing.”

Jess stiffened as his body pressed against the back of hers in less than a blink. Leaning forward, he picked up the chocolate, bringing it toward her lips. With his chest against her back, his arm in front of her, she was effectively captured. “How long do you think you’ll get away with issuing
me
commands, Jess?” he murmured. “You think you’re pushing me to see if I’ll become Raithe, but there’s another reason you’re pushing me, the one you won’t face. When you’re ready to do so, that’s the last time you’ll get to push me without immediate consequences.” His lips grazed her temple and she shuddered. The cook and Amara were back to conversing by the stove, paying no obvious attention to them, but she was sure it was a deliberate move to give her a false sense of privacy. Not that she needed one with the fanged bully.

“The fanged bully wants you to try the chocolate.” He brushed it over her lips, once, twice, the heat of his fingers making it melt and the aroma drift up her nostrils, heady, overwhelming. Like him. “Open up.”

“Will you go away if—” Of course, she had to part her lips to speak, and he put the truffle on her tongue. Letting the pad of his finger slide against it ensured she tasted the chocolate that had melted on him. She had a sudden, desperate desire to hold on to it, to suckle on him the way she had his cock the day before.

He bent, pressed his lips to her throat below her ear. “You do not know what a temptation your confused mind is,
habiba
. But again, I am not Raithe. I will not take advantage of your mind for my sole benefit. Not until both of us would be pleased by me acting on your desires. Enjoy your day with Amara. I’m heading to bed, but will see you later. I will not be far.”

In the next blink, he was gone, leaving an emptiness at her back, and the lingering heat of his breath at her ear, the taste of chocolate on her tongue. She savored it, telling herself it was the truffle she was appreciating.

How could she deal with having someone in her head and sorting through the truth or delusion of her own thoughts? With Raithe, she’d gotten to the point she didn’t care. Both became a nightmare, what she could imagine he would do to her, against what he actually did.

For now, with a dearth of other options, she narrowed her focus onto the food, and pushed away anything else she couldn’t face.

Like her foolish craving to believe this was real, that she’d found a sanctuary. Nowhere was safe, but particularly not a place that held a vampire.

After Jessica ate, Amara took her on a tour of the grounds. She was relieved the woman didn’t give her a choice, because while principle would require her to refuse if asked, she wanted to get out and
move
. It felt marvelous to eat, to walk straight with lithe strides, to know she wouldn’t be exhausted by walking down the stairs of the back balcony that led to . . .

“Oh.” Jessica stopped. Amara came to a halt with her, and a smile curved the woman’s lush mouth.

“Yes, it has that effect. Wonderful, isn’t it?”

Mason’s home might as well be called a castle, though she supposed it would be considered a large estate. Years ago, as a child, she’d gone to Biltmore Estate in the mountains of North Carolina, and it reminded her of that, only this particular castle rested by the sea. Amara had explained they were in South America, on the edges of one of the few temperate rain forests, which explained the deep forest that came within a hundred feet of the front of the sprawling structure. But the back of the estate opened onto an oceanfront view comparable to the gates of Heaven. Mason had a layered series of wide verandahs that artfully led into winding marble staircases, down to a sloping lawn with myriad gardens dotted with fountains and statuary. Those gave way to sand and the ocean shore. In daylight it was breathtaking, but for some reason she imagined it through Mason’s eyes, when everything was bathed in moonlight, giving the water, statues and gleaming leaves in the gardens a kissed-by-silver look.

When she recognized some of the exotic flowers, tears threatened. Their petals had been scattered in Farida’s tomb. He grew them here.

Amara stayed silent, but Jess was aware the woman’s hand brushed the small of her back, a reassurance. The tears weren’t only because of the flowers, Jessica knew. It had been so long since her appreciation for something beautiful hadn’t been destroyed by her justified wariness of it. Because while the vampires she’d known had accumulated beauty, they didn’t understand its value.

They used it as a tool, a weapon or a possession. This . . . Mason had built his estate in a solitary place that spoke of beauty far beyond the power or ownership of human or vampire, and the architecture of house and gardens appeared to pay homage to it.

Yet there was the undeniable sense that it was a home. Amara and Enrique were comfortable here, as were the cook and staff. The kitchen, the bedrooms, all the living spaces, appeared to provide . . . a haven.

Taking a deep breath, she focused on less disturbing details. She saw he had spoken the truth about the renovations. On the western wing, a catwalk construction was happening on the second level. Above that, bundles of shingles were stacked, a roofing job in progress. She narrowed her eyes at the charcoal smudges along the siding, the piles of broken brick and discarded construction material below. “That looks like rubble from an explosion.”

“Yes, it is,” Amara commented matter-of-factly. “The Vampire Council gathering was held here last year. A small army of vampire hunters attacked and blew up this verandah, the ballroom and that western wing. Which, thankfully, is the final area requiring construction. The din has been horrible on some days. They’ll clean up that debris as the last step.”

Jessica blinked, turned to look at her. “Vampire hunters attacked a full gathering of vampires?”

“At dusk, no less.” Amara didn’t smile now. “They were of course defeated. Many of the hunters were killed and driven off, though they killed a handful of vampires and many servants. Please do not celebrate that in my presence, whatever your feelings,” she added. “There were many lost that day who we considered friends.”

Jess drew another breath. “Amara, I don’t want to offend. I just want to leave.”

“I know.” Amara’s dark eyes saw more than Jessica was comfortable with. “I wonder if you’ll feel that way when he lets you leave. Because none of the others wanted to go.”

“The others?”

Amara nodded. “Lord Mason has . . .” Her lips twisted, and now amusement flickered in her gaze. “He will punish me for teasing him in this way, but he has an unusual hobby. He has a harem. I will show you a place he has dedicated to them, in a manner of speaking, after we complete a circuit of the grounds.”

“A harem?
Here?
”

“No, of course not. I say it that way because they are all very loyal to him.” Amara started down the stairs, drawing Jessica with her. Despite herself, Jessica’s curiosity was roused, though she managed to remain silent, glad when Amara continued without prompting.