Vampire Instinct (6 page)
Authors: Joey W Hill
Tags: #Vampires, #Horror, #Paranormal, #General, #Romance, #Fantasy, #Erotic Fiction, #Erotica, #Fiction, #Occult & Supernatural
She was nonplussed. He was talking to her, not at her, a complete flip from his high-handed treatment of a moment ago. However, he still looked stern and a bit annoyed. “They know you can’t stop me from doing anything I want to them. Your agitation tells them there’s a reason to be afraid. That’s why I don’t want you there right now. You’re no good to them like that. But if you calmly go back to the house, get settled in the guest quarters, what does that say to them?”
He was right. That intelligence Danny had praised knew it. But her heart resisted it. Without them to occupy her mind and time,
her
ghosts might carry her away. Given how he was looking at her so intently, she wasn’t so sure he didn’t know that. Those eyes made her feel too vulnerable, as if he’d peeled back a scab to stare at the wound it hid.
her
ghosts might carry her away. Given how he was looking at her so intently, she wasn’t so sure he didn’t know that. Those eyes made her feel too vulnerable, as if he’d peeled back a scab to stare at the wound it hid.
A Jeep engine startled her, causing her to lurch into him, catch his forearm again. She immediately pulled away, flushing, especially since it deepened the bug-under-a-microscope look. As the vehicle rolled up next to them, she saw the female staff person driving it. Thomas was in the back. Malachi turned her toward the passenger side as the monk got out to help her into the vehicle.
They’d left her no choice. Suddenly she was tired. So tired. But she needed to tell him about William and Matthew. How Jeremiah was. What the girls would do if . . .
“Take them to the house, get them settled in guest quarters. And get her something to eat before she falls down,” Mal told the driver. He glanced at Thomas, who gave him a nod, then brought his gaze back to Elisa. The vampire stepped closer, pressing a knee into the Jeep’s running board so he could bend to eye level with her. “Remember what I told you. Once you’ve eaten a full meal and gotten eight hours’ sleep, you can tell me everything you think is of importance.”
“When can I come—”
“Once they’re settled and I’m confident you’re ready to follow some basic rules, you can see them.”
“I don’t need sleep and food. I—”
“That wasn’t an offer.” His voice was back to clipped, annoyed. “You may not be my servant, but while you’re under my protection I’m well within my rights to do what I see fit to serve your Mistress’s interests.”
Maybe because her nerves were so raw and exhaustion had gripped her so unexpectedly, Elisa didn’t think to mind her hands and feet, what they were doing. Her hand had settled on the front of his T-shirt, fingers curling into the cloth, feeling the hard male beneath. His gaze flickered to it, then back up to her face, his jaw tightening.
“They
are
children,” she insisted. His expression could be uncompromising, but she saw something in those depths, something from a moment ago that she thought she could trust. “Children who’ve seen too much, been through too much. Please, I know I’m nothing to you, but please, please don’t . . .”
are
children,” she insisted. His expression could be uncompromising, but she saw something in those depths, something from a moment ago that she thought she could trust. “Children who’ve seen too much, been through too much. Please, I know I’m nothing to you, but please, please don’t . . .”
Hurt them? Make them afraid? What wish would best match the trajectory of this falling star, make it come true? “Please.” That was all she could say. Like praying, she hoped the need would be understood and heard.
Malachi curled his hand over hers. His lean strength covered her cold fingers. His penetrating gaze swept over her face, the set of her mouth, then up to her brow and the curls that had escaped her hair arrangement from her dozing on the plane. She must look a sight, she realized. How could he take someone seriously who looked like an exhausted child? He might be right about her not being worth a brass razoo to him without the food and sleep. Held by those strong fingers, she thought she might need to trust him, at least a little while. Danny trusted him, after all.
It was clear the man worked with difficult creatures, because despite his boorish attitude, he had an oddly calming touch. His fingers squeezed, a brief pressure; then he put her hand back in her lap. “Take them up to the house,” he ordered. He glanced at Thomas. “And make certain she does as she’s told.”
Out of his sight, her worry spiraled back up and snagged in that fog of exhaustion, even as she tried to focus on Thomas and their driver, Chumani. Her Sioux name meant
dewdrops
, which Elisa found appropriately beautiful. The woman was tall and smoothly muscled, her thick dark hair plaited in a braid to her waist, the loose strands emphasizing her sculpted cheekbones and firm chin, the forest of dark lashes that framed her vibrant eyes.
dewdrops
, which Elisa found appropriately beautiful. The woman was tall and smoothly muscled, her thick dark hair plaited in a braid to her waist, the loose strands emphasizing her sculpted cheekbones and firm chin, the forest of dark lashes that framed her vibrant eyes.
As if the awkwardness at the tarmac had never occurred, Chumani directed their attention to the landscape like a seasoned tourist guide. Since it was nighttime for the comfort of the vampires, she couldn’t see detailed features, but Elisa noted dark silhouettes of thick forests, as well as open plains whose grasses were highlighted white-gold by moonlight. That same moon caused tiny sparkles off rock facets along cliff banks. They passed over and through quite a few freshwater sources. Creeks, ponds, waterfalls. The Jeep windows were open, so the evening breeze helped cool her cheeks, which were still heated by her exchange with Malachi.
The more her nerves settled, the more appalled she was with herself. All her life she’d been docile, obedient. The proper servant, whether she was maid, housekeeper or convenient whore. She closed her fingers together in a ball in her lap, not wanting anyone to see the tremor. That memory shouldn’t unsettle her. The two male employers who had used her that way might have been insistent, but they were unexpectedly kind about it, and she knew just how fortunate she’d been in that.
Why was it that what had happened in the barn that awful night seemed to be polluting not only her present, but flowing backward as well, a blood-colored paint changing the hue of her past?
Well, then, she’d just repaint it the way it should be. Mr. Collins, the first one, had been the most kind. She remembered his trim brown mustache, his grass green eyes and warm hands. He’d given her a bracing shot of brandy after he asked—he
asked
—if it was her first time. He’d seemed to even enjoy taking his time, touching her enough to get things slippery between her legs, and he hadn’t jammed himself into her like a hammer driving a nail into wood. It had hurt, but he’d kissed her tears, even caught one in a tiny little rose-colored bottle, tied with her hair ribbon. He’d kept it in his desk drawers with some other mementoes until it dried up. He’d told her it wouldn’t hurt like that again, particularly if they did it often. She’d been thirteen.
asked
—if it was her first time. He’d seemed to even enjoy taking his time, touching her enough to get things slippery between her legs, and he hadn’t jammed himself into her like a hammer driving a nail into wood. It had hurt, but he’d kissed her tears, even caught one in a tiny little rose-colored bottle, tied with her hair ribbon. He’d kept it in his desk drawers with some other mementoes until it dried up. He’d told her it wouldn’t hurt like that again, particularly if they did it often. She’d been thirteen.
His wife had tolerated it. They already had three children and apparently Mrs. Collins had no interest in having more. Elisa hadn’t conceived, thankfully, because an older girl in the household, Linda, had taught her the necessary herbs and methods to stay that way. She’d worried at first it was a sin, but the pragmatic Linda told her that starving to death in the street with a child to suckle and no way to feed it except whoring with far more dangerous strangers might be a bigger sin. Elisa had taken the herb packets and the little sponge.
His wife was no longer as tolerant when Elisa turned eighteen. But Mr. Collins had made sure she ended up with his friend Mr. Pearlmutton, who’d been less kind, but only because he expected her experience. He taught her to do the things he enjoyed, and sometimes she felt unexpected spirals of pleasure. Not because she found him appealing, but because sometimes his fingers and the movement of his cock did things to her. Those puzzling instances were nothing next to the few handfuls of times Willis had kissed her. Then she’d felt the true promise of something building in her lower extremities, a much stronger reaction that made her cling to him shamelessly those few times.
She hadn’t known it was possible for women to enjoy rutting the way men did, all that grunting and heaving. She’d seen whores fake it in alleyways with their clients, but it wasn’t until she came into a female vampire’s employ that she’d seen what the act could be for a woman.
Lady Constance and Ian had shared a room, and she heard them a few times, but initially she assumed Lady Constance faked it, like the whores, to make Ian happy. After all, a girl had to give a man that to keep him around, and in return he took care of her and helped her do things. Lady Constance owned the station, though, and was the overlord for the territory. She didn’t seem to need that kind of security from Ian.
Then Danny and Dev came to live in the station house and Elisa was given an eye-opening education. It wasn’t like she’d popped in on them in their bedroom to get a front-row seat. It was a gradual thing, starting with how they were with each other. At night, she’d seen Danny press up behind Dev while he was bent over a table, reviewing the ledger books. The female vampire would get so close there was no space between their bodies, her breasts pressed tight against his broad back, hips firmly against his tight arse. Her lady’s hand would slide down his muscular thigh, her knuckles teasing her way across the hard line of it. Though Elisa pretended she didn’t see, Dev’s cock would react, getting full and stiff in his trousers, and Lord, he was blessed far more in that department than most.
He’d smile that faint smile of his when Danny whispered she didn’t want him to stop what he was doing, that she expected her station manager to keep her accounts up-to-date. As he tried to do her bidding, her hands would stroke and squeeze, wander until it was obvious he couldn’t pay any attention to anything but her.
As mesmerizing as it was to see a man as handsome as Dev get aroused, Elisa’s fascination had been with Lady Danny. She was fully in charge of all of it. She didn’t have to couple with Dev to keep him. He was her servant . . . He served her.
It had been confounding. One early dawn, she’d come to the kitchen to get a cup of bedtime tea, thinking she was the only one moving about. She’d heard murmuring, soft gasps, and paused at the library. The double doors had been open just a crack. It was wrong, but she’d looked. And then she couldn’t tear her eyes away.
Danny was in one of the comfortable broad chairs, her long white legs draped wide over the arms but her ankles coming in like the shape of a heart to rest on the lower curve of Dev’s broad, bare back. He’d had his mouth between her legs, teasing and suckling her there the way they often kissed, with tongue and deep penetration. As his head moved, Elisa saw the pink lips of Danny’s sex, wet not just from his mouth, for she heard him murmur, “Ah, love, your cream is the sweetest treat I know.”
Danny had arched up, her fingers spearing into his hair, and the flush that crossed her body was obviously not pretense, the way her muscles strained and her body both yearned and resisted his hold on her thighs. The climax that took her made her grip harder, and her head dropped forward and then snapped back as a cry split from her throat, a cry of pleasure she didn’t care if anyone heard. Dev’s back muscles rippled as he tightened his grip. He still wore his trousers, but he’d had them open and loose, so Elisa could see the upper rise of his buttocks, a glimpse of the seam between. He flexed rhythmically, as if he were already inside her. Holding on, he kept teasing and suckling, until that cry became a scream of absolute, undeniable pleasure.
Elisa had been surprised to find her own thighs damp with a thick response of her own. Thanks to Mr. Collins, she knew how to make herself slippery using her fingers, until the collywobbles were dancing in her stomach. That was how he’d told her to do it, but he hadn’t said anything about keeping on with it until it reached the point Danny seemed to be experiencing. It made Elisa wonder if it was possible to do it to oneself. For the first time in her life, she had a yearning to try, but she slept in the housekeeper’s room, Mrs. Pritchett, and there was no way she’d risk being discovered doing
that
. Seeking pleasure by oneself was definitely a sin. Right?
that
. Seeking pleasure by oneself was definitely a sin. Right?
And why on earth had she gone down this road in her mind, far beyond where she’d intended to go to simply dispel a bad memory?
She started at Thomas’s hand on her shoulder. “We’re here, Elisa.”
Focusing, she saw they were in a valley. A long field stretched away to the left, merging into a new set of rolling inclines that led up into higher, rockier terrain. It reminded her of the terrain surrounding Danny’s station, a reassuring thought.
The house was a dark, sprawling smudge in the center of the field, but it wasn’t some tall, opulent mansion. It was built much like the station itself, with a porch that wrapped all the way around, and open doors and spaces, welcoming the land around it. The sturdy post and wire fence built along the perimeter of the field and encompassing the house, vehicles and outbuildings didn’t detract from the feeling. As they went through the gate and pulled up to the front of the house, she saw a pair of house cats on one of the wooden swings, their eyes gleaming off the Jeep headlights as Chumani killed the engine. At the bottom of the porch steps, a trellis thickly covered with vines showed off white, mysterious-looking flowers the size of Elisa’s hands. The blooms had a light, haunting scent.
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