Vampire Instinct (65 page)

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Authors: Joey W Hill

Tags: #Vampires, #Horror, #Paranormal, #General, #Romance, #Fantasy, #Erotic Fiction, #Erotica, #Fiction, #Occult & Supernatural

BOOK: Vampire Instinct
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However, he didn’t interact with vampires that often. He could count on one hand the number of times over the past five years. He wasn’t an overlord or Region Master with political aspirations. He didn’t even really have to bring a servant for most trips. He could probably keep it restricted to Region Master or overlord demands, and seeing that that would be Lady Lyssa and Lord Marshall, both of whom had servants Elisa now knew and liked, it would be manageable.
Even if the fledglings all left, he could offer her the choice to stay until she felt comfortable returning to Australia and Danny, when enough time had passed to help heal the ghosts that lingered there for her. That was logical, reasonable, no commitment involved or promises that could be broken.
If it was such a logical choice, he could say it right here, right now, and it would be done. She’d certainly accept it, and that would be that. But he couldn’t make his lips move to form the words. Whatever it was—the biology of the third mark, the way it made a vampire view his third servant, or something deeper he didn’t care to analyze—nothing inside him had any interest in leaving the damn offer open-ended.
Which meant, for her own good, silence was his best option. He’d be like the damn Sphinx and let her go—let her go home—as soon as the fledglings were settled.
38
 
N
ADIA and Marshall would come to the island in a month, and the boys would be brought to them a month after that. They’d agreed to that schedule based on Mal’s determination of how long it would take to ensure the boys were ready to be part of an actual household.
Elisa thought he might have to amend that timetable, however, because since they’d let the boys know they had a future, they were making progress in leaps and bounds. Over the next several weeks, it became a regular thing, having the boys visit the house one night, the girls the next. On one memorable evening, Mal deemed all four ready to be there. They’d taught them cards, and Nerida had even shyly climbed from Elisa’s lap into Malachi’s, holding his cards for him. She’d shown a particular trust for him ever since the Leonidas incident, and though he tried to appear immune and unaffected by it, Elisa could tell their smallest vampire’s trust touched him.
The boys fell right into Mal’s trap when he offered them a game of fifty-two-card pickup. They’d had so much fun racing each other to pick up all the cards, though, she wasn’t sure they really understood it was a joke, not a game, or if they even cared. They were all starting to verbalize more, fangs notwithstanding. Lord Brian was scheduled to visit around the same time as Marshall and Nadia, which meant they could be part of discussions about that and other matters regarding the fledglings’ state.
The news for the girls was equally good. Mal had made contact with a Lord Mason in South America. Through Lady Lyssa, Mal had found out the little-known and unusual fact that Lord Mason had created a foundation to assist human women who needed to escape dire circumstances. His initial focus had been women in the Middle East, but he’d been known to expand that reach. While of course Miah and Nerida weren’t a perfect fit for his philanthropic endeavors, through the conduit of Enrique, his full servant, the vampire lord became interested in their situation, and agreed that he might give them a home at his estate. If they learned enough control, he could find them a place in one of his women’s communities where they would essentially disappear from vampire eyes, and have his marked protection.
So almost everything was looking bright as sunshine. On those evenings at the house, Elisa would talk to them about the places they would be going. Nadia had sent gifts for all of them, not just the boys, but for the boys she’d also sent a photo and sketch album like Elisa had, so William and Matthew could see the house, the rooms they were creating for them, and what their new benefactors looked like.
While Lord Mason was not available to come to visit the girls, Enrique and his wife, Amara, would be coming to visit.
“Lord Mason’s full servant has a wife?” Elisa’s brow had lifted to her hairline at that news. The children had gone back to their enclosure for the night and she was in Mal’s room. As always, he wanted her stretched out naked on his bed at the near dawn to feed, as well as to enjoy other things she had to offer him. It was a part of her day she always anticipated, perhaps too much, but he seemed to thoroughly and deeply enjoy it as well. Enough that tonight he’d decided they’d turn in a couple hours earlier than usual.
Even now, his gaze was caressing her skin. He’d had her lie on her stomach, her legs spread so he could enjoy the curve of her arse, her dampening pussy, as he stripped off his shirt. Pulling open the top button of his trousers, he toed off his shoes. Coming to sit on the edge of the bed, he molded a palm over one buttock. She laid her cheek on her folded arms, watching him, waiting for his answer.
“Yes. They’re both third-marked, both Lord Mason’s servants, but Enrique came to him first. Later, when Enrique married her, at her request, Mason made them both fully his. It’s a unique situation, one we don’t see too often.”
She nodded, looking down at the pelts beneath her hands. Usually she liked to take her fill of watching him undress, a secret pleasure she could pretend was all hers. But his words gave her a brief shadow. “How would you feel about something like that?” he asked.
The question surprised and discomfited her. “Ian was Lady Constance’s consort, sort of like a married couple, but he had a full servant, Chiyoko. I guess it’d be similar to that, right? Like if I’m your full servant, you could marry or keep as a consort that lady vampire Kohana said comes to visit you.”
“Used to come visit. She doesn’t anymore, hasn’t for a long time.” He pushed a curl off her cheek. “But that’s not what I meant. If you go back to your station and fall in love with someone like Willis . . .” Mal paused, his jaw tightening. “Elisa, I would allow you to marry. You know that, right? It would have to be someone already inside the vampire world, second-marked of course, or willing to be brought in that way, but I know you want a family. I don’t want you to be alone just because you’re my third-marked servant.”
“I don’t feel alone now.” She pleated the sheet with her fingers, neat, straight rows. He covered both her hands with his.
“Look at me.”
She raised her chin, but her eyes couldn’t quite focus on his, skittering away to the dresser, the wall. Putting his hand on her jaw, he made her look at him. Still, she got only as far as his not-perfectly straight nose. During one of their early-dawn conversations, one of those postcoital murmurings while he held her in his arms, he’d told her it had been broken before he was turned. On one of his escape attempts from the mission school.
“It would be so much easier if you were like the rest of them,” she said desperately. “You know, Lady Danny and Lord Marshall. They’re so different from me in everything . . . It’s like they’re royalty, and no one has ridiculous thoughts about being with royalty. You appreciate them from a distance, and even if you have some kind of Cinderella dream, you know it’s a child’s fairy tale. You’re like Willis, but you’re not. You’re like Danny, but you’re not. And it’s so easy to get caught up in that in-between world, thinking things about you.” She took a deep breath.
Stop it; stop being a stupid ninny.
“No, that’s quite fair. I’m glad you said that. Yes, if I meet someone, and want to marry them, that will be a lovely,
brilliant
thing to know. Thank you, sir.”
He blinked at her, but then he stilled, listening. Elisa looked up at him, but before he even said anything, she knew what it was, because it had been happening far too much of late.
“Bidzil says there’s a problem.”
The pleasure of the earlier evening evaporated, a heavy weight in her chest with the reminder of that
almost
in the optimistic forecast for the fledglings. “I’ll go with you. He calms down when he sees me.”
“It’s not a seizure. He . . .” Mal’s forehead creased. “Chumani says she thinks it’s best if you do come.”
As promising as the future looked for the other four, Jeremiah’s star had been moving in an altogether different direction. In fact, while Elisa had been glad to see the four at the house tonight, a large part of her had felt she should be at the enclosure, so Jeremiah wouldn’t be alone. Chumani had stayed with him, but she knew it wasn’t the same.
She went every day to him now, since he couldn’t leave the fledgling compound except for the nights Mal took him alone to the preserve. He’d become so erratic he couldn’t be trusted out among the other four. Which meant of course Mal wouldn’t let her come, either, but he would faithfully let her see what the boy was doing through his mind. The enhanced binding of the third mark gave her a far more vivid view than the brief channel he’d held open through the second mark.
Jeremiah would run across the plains at full speed as if demons were pursuing him, then would come to a halt, so abruptly his heels gouged into the ground. He’d stand in that spot, swaying. After a time, he might climb a tree and stay up there for hours, staring out into space. Whereas the other four were more and more verbal, he was monosyllabic or silent most of the time now.
When she went to see him, her reading and talking to him seemed to calm him, make the bloodlust seizures less intense when they happened. Since she was spending more time with the four outside the enclosure, they didn’t mind that she devoted all her attention to him when she was there, but she didn’t like their knowing looks, the sad set to their mouths, a reflection of what she often saw in Mal’s face. It mirrored the ominous sense she carried, and despised herself for feeling.
Mal had sent Jeremiah’s blood to the scientist. Lord Brian said Jeremiah’s blood confirmed he was escalating in his violent tendencies, the transition indicators intensifying, not abating as they should be. The young scientist said he’d like to come and study him, even if he couldn’t help. Like a lab rat. Elisa didn’t even particularly care to think about what scientists did to those poor creatures, let alone what Lord Brian might do to her boy.
Since he was less communicative, she’d tried talking to him in her head, but he didn’t respond. She’d told him they’d figure out something about the bloodlust, that he’d always have a home here, that Mal had promised nothing bad would ever happen to him. When she said such things, Jeremiah looked at her with eyes that had gone so flat . . . so empty. Every once in a while it could make her shiver, because it reminded her of Victor or Leonidas. When she thought such a terrible thing, she immediately banished it from her mind. Jeremiah was still Jeremiah. While she couldn’t seem to penetrate the distance between them now, she would. They needed time; that was all.
 
They were on their way in a matter of a few moments, roaring out of the valley. As they rounded the sharp curve on the highest overlook, Elisa emitted a sharp warning cry. Mal cursed, hitting the brake at the same moment. At the top of that knoll, staring out at the expanse of plains, the moon hanging down and spilling silvery light across them, was Jeremiah.
“Stay in this Jeep,” Mal said, his tone adamant. Elisa nodded, though her hands gripped the dashboard.
Mal had every sympathy for the boy, but he got out of the Jeep in full predator mode, eyes trained on the fledgling, his hands loose and mature body ready to handle whatever needed handling. Chumani was alive; he could feel her life essence, but she wasn’t answering his call. He cursed himself for not staying linked to her. On top of that, he was far too aware of Elisa, tense and worried in the Jeep behind him, but not worried about the right things. He could keep Jeremiah from her, but things could always go wrong.
The boy didn’t turn, not even when Mal was right behind him, but he did speak.
“Joomani’s fine.” The sibilant words were slurred even more than usual by the fangs. “I . . . held her air. Made her sleep.”
Hardly reassuring, since Jeremiah sounded detached, not in touch with the reality around him. Then he turned and Elisa let out a tiny cry. The excessive slurring was because his fangs were gone, ripped out of his mouth by his own hands. He was holding one in each bloody palm. Not holding. He’d staked his hands with them, so that they were pushed through the palm, the sharp curved tip emerging on the other side.
Elisa.
She was out of the Jeep and halfway to him, but Mal’s explosive command reverberated inside her mind, stopping her. All vampires had some level of compulsion on those they marked, but it was the first time he’d ever used it, more instinct than skill, his will cracking out and whipping around her like a single tail, bringing her to a halt as if he’d grabbed her around the waist. It was just enough to help her regain her senses, but she swayed in place, everything about her aching toward Jeremiah.

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