“Why are you nae sitting in a chair, like yesterday?”

“Evan told me to serve you as I would him. I’d never sit in a chair next to a vampire.”

Niall took a bite of his biscuit and chewed, his attention remaining upon her. Now she wasn’t sure if she should start eating, so she waited. If she had to, she’d ask him. Because he really wasn’t a vampire Master. He just had a way of looking at her like one.

“Let me have that.” Taking her plate from her, he set it next to his, then held out his hand for the juice and utensils. When he dropped them on the table in a casual disarray that made her wince, he held his hand out for hers. As he brought her up, he scraped his chair away from the table.

“Why don’t you come sit on my lap?”

His handclasp was warm, and she thought of his body lying behind hers on the bed. Warm and safe, protective. She couldn’t understand her hesitation now, except it was new to her, having an inordinate desire to obey that seemed out of proportion with the requirement of service. It was as if Evan had merely pushed a gate wider that was already unwisely ajar.

“Do you want to sit on my lap?”

Since he wasn’t her Master, “If that’s what my Master desires” didn’t fit. And “Yes, because Master said I should do it” sounded wrong.

“Do you want me to command you to sit on my lap?” Niall asked before she could respond.

An entirely different reaction flooded into her chest. He saw it in her face, a muscle flexing in his jaw that tempted her fingertips to trace it. “That’s it, isn’t it? Whether you want it or no, an order makes it your desire as well.”

“Yes.” She was relieved he understood. “It’s how I’m trained. I have no desires until you command it.”

His brow creased. “What if Stephen commanded you to sit on his lap? I know ’twould be different, because I’m a servant, but say Evan was commanding ye to do the same thing. Would it feel different?”

She didn’t like all these questions, but it wasn’t her place to like or dislike anything, right? “Yes, there’s a difference.” She hoped he wouldn’t ask her to explain.

“Different because of how he betrayed the Council, or even before, when he was your Master? Don’t think, just answer,” he added sharply.

“It’s not the same,” she blurted out. Her fingers closed into a tight ball, her wrist still in his grasp. Since she had an alarming desire to pull away, she went rigid.

She was an intelligent woman. It was one of the reasons she was so good at being an InhServ. From the outside, it might appear as mindless obedience, but anticipating the needs of another, always putting those needs first, learning myriad ways to be genuinely responsive and enthusiastic, no matter what was demanded . . . it took tremendous psychological skills and an in-depth understanding of one’s strengths and weaknesses. It also required a brutal understanding of who and what her Master was, what he most desired from her.

Stephen’s priority was obedience; she was a service given to him by privilege. If he loaned her to another vampire, he expected her to obey that vampire no differently than she obeyed him. But Niall and Evan wanted her to obey their commands specifically. To respond to them specifically. To want them specifically.

Beyond that, their expectations had nothing to do with the code of being a servant. They wanted her . . . to want to please them. She’d been trained that it was one and the same, but they understood there was a difference. And they were right. Otherwise, why had she automatically responded that it was different, the same command issued by Stephen and Evan?

This whole line of thinking set her feet on a dangerous road, where her own desires became a separate entity from those of her Master. No, it was not a road at all, but a forest as wild and mysterious as that which surrounded their cabin. But she had no choice, for Niall was waiting for an honest answer. She thought of that first moment after Evan second-marked her, when she could hear both him and Niall in her mind. It had felt different from Stephen’s second mark, too.

“I want to be commanded to sit in your lap. I want you to want me to sit in your lap.”

He squeezed her wrist, an unfathomable look in his golden brown eyes. Last night, she’d given more of her heart to them than she’d offered to Stephen in all thirteen years of her service. Because her heart was the last thing he’d wanted. What’s more, with Niall and Evan, it felt like what a servant should be offering. Unconditionally.

“I want you,” she whispered, walking a frayed tightrope over land mines.

Evan’s voice slid into her head. Teasing.

Only him?

It flustered her again. She shook her head, but Niall spoke for her. “She’s nodding emphatically, Evan. Sorry, old boy.”

“I am not,” she exclaimed. “Master, he is making up things.”

Niall grinned then, merely locking his grip when she tried to pull away. With a quick yank, he pulled her into his lap. She caught his shoulder so she didn’t fall, but he already had her securely by the waist, steadying her. He nodded to her utensils, pulling her plate closer to his. “Eat.”

She picked up her fork, bemused by her perch, his fingers splayed over her hip bone. His thigh muscles shifted under her, a pleasant sensation with her legs straddling his, her buttocks pushed back against his hip and abdomen. He held her with one arm and ate with the other. As she cut her egg, she watched him shovel in the breakfast. His table manners weren’t bad; he just had a healthy appetite, one that made her glad that she’d cooked plenty.

Putting down her fork, she plucked several wood chips from his hair, smoothed the strands over his temple. In response, he pressed a kiss to her collarbone, his hair brushing her cheek, and left the scent of bacon and coffee on her skin. She didn’t mind.

Evan had gone quiet after his teasing, so she assumed he’d returned to sleep. The earlier rain was long gone, the sun’s heat penetrating the windows, despite the fall chill. “Does Evan sell his work? Is that how he makes a living?”

Evan’s world was a curious one for her, since the vampires in the upper circles were already wealthy, through centuries of investment and business interests. She knew vampires who worked regular jobs like humans existed; she’d just never met any.

Niall shrugged, sitting back with his coffee, still balancing her on his knee. “It’s how he makes his living now. In the beginning, he had a sponsor, and that and portrait commissions took him through lean times. Before electricity, there were few night jobs. But when he did find one, he didnae mind doing it. The lad’s not afraid of hard work.” The approval in Niall’s voice was clear.

“In fact, he liked doing them. Before he was turned, he wasnae a very healthy human.” Niall picked up another biscuit. Since the butter was closer to her, she took it from him, added the same amount she’d seen him slather on the other and handed it back. Niall grunted his thanks.

“He said the work added to the experiences he brought to his art. Even now, he’ll take the occasional job to see what it’s about. He’s done security, helped build a skyscraper, flew private planes, worked as an apprentice gardener at a big estate for near a year. Even joined a paving crew.”

She couldn’t conceal her amazement. “He’s done manual labor? With humans?”

“Has some great pictures from them as well. The night shots o’ the crew, the lighting over the job, the headlights of cars looking like shooting stars.” Niall chewed, considering. “He never forgets the important details. The faces o’ the lads, sweating, intent on their work, or their eyes wandering, distant, thinking about what they’ll be doin’ when the shift is over . . .”

Despite his dismissal of her origami, Niall was far more aware of aesthetic nuances than he’d first revealed. It was obvious he admired Evan’s work, was intrigued and involved in it. Did he realize how Evan studied him the same way? Last night, she’d seen how the vampire responded to every movement, every gasped word from his servant. They were linked and interwoven, a tapestry three hundred years in the making. It made her heart hurt . . . and long for the same.

Niall moved onto his third helping of bacon. “Interaction with the human world is more common among working-class vampires like Evan. He has a New York art dealer who handles the sales o’ his work, but Evan still stays hands-on with the managing o’ his coin. He has a hell of a sense for knowing when to save, when to spend, and what’s worth the price tag. Though he’ll still get that price knocked down if he can manage it. He’s your lad for the bazaars in Marrakesh.” He winked. “Most of it he sinks into assets and costs—camera equipment, rentals like this, transportation—but he always manages a comfortable nest egg.” He smiled at her. “We might not be rich, but we willnae ever starve.”

He adjusted her over both his thighs then, which snugged her backside right into the heat of his groin. His fingers slipped over her thigh, a casual stroke that risked her choking on her eggs. She put down her fork. “Why did he choose you as a servant?”

While the circumstances of the choosing had seemed to be an off-limits topic, she hoped the why would be safe.

“Not real obvious, is it?” His interested cock stirred, increasing the pressure into the tender pocket between her thighs. His touch moved to her hip, the crease between it and her leg. “You’re not wearing panties, are ye?”

“No, sir.” Her mouth had gone dry, her heart starting to pound faster, especially when he didn’t correct her address.

“Lean back against me, lass, if you’re done with your breakfast.”

As she did, his hand slid between her thighs. When she spread them, he brushed her sex through the skirt. Even as she shuddered in response, he continued on in that same conversational tone, though his cock was getting harder and thicker.

“Not obvious, is it? He does a lot for himself. Doesnae need someone to wipe his arse or . . .” He cut himself off before he said anything else, making her think he was about to say something about what he considered her more purposeless skill sets. It didn’t matter, since she was fighting an unacceptable urge to turn around, straddle him. Curling her fingers over his arm on his waist, she dug into his flesh.