An elegant St. Andrew’s cross dominated the performance area. It was a piece of art itself, a dark polished wood, the ends carved with birds and decorative scrollwork, the flat surfaces below the restraint eyelets worn even smoother by the sweat and struggles of former occupants. Evan ran his fingers over the silk of those spots, felt the contrasting shapes of the carvings.

Glancing over at Niall, he was pleased with the way his servant looked. He wore only a dark gray kilt, and his hair was tied back loosely on his shoulders. Niall had never been tattooed, not during all these years. He was a blank canvas except for Evan’s third mark, the chai symbol on his chest that most in this crowd would take for a brand. They were not entirely wrong.

He remembered the night he’d lain in bed with his servant, his hand on that third mark, imagining the design he’d put over it. He was feeding, inhaling the scent of Niall’s skin as he teased his throat, sipping his rich blood. Niall had followed the movement of the fingers on his chest, figured out the shape.

A dragon, the symbol of the bloody English?

The Scot’s voice had been thick, trying for amusement, but laden with something else as Evan tasted him. Sliding his hand down Niall’s stomach, Evan clasped his cock, working it slow and steady, the way he was taking his nourishment. When he was done, he wanted him hard, because he’d roll him over and make him come into the sheets while Evan released inside him.

When Edward raised the dragon banner, it meant no quarter. No rules. Total domination.

And that’s what ye have over me?

He’d lifted his head, seen his servant’s tawny eyes studying him, his mind rolling that over. Evan’s answer had been to shift on top of him, hands on either side of his face, fingers digging into his hair as he captured his mouth. As he rubbed himself against Niall’s stiff cock, the Scot groaned, kissed him back fiercely. Evan planted his knee so he couldn’t roll them, pushing against his testicles as he plundered the heated mouth, the lashing tongue, biting the delectable mouth.

When he slid back down to press his lips over that spot, Niall’s hand brushed his back, moved up to his nape, fingers digging into his scalp as Evan scraped a fang over him. He was done feeding, but he didn’t turn him yet. He put his head on Niall’s chest, listening to his heart beat. As he was doing that, his servant’s mind stilled, as it often did in such moments. When he rested his large hand between Evan’s shoulder blades, those fingers curved against Evan’s flesh, a need unspoken.

Coming back to the present, Evan focused on the task at hand. He’d ordered Niall to remove his chest hair. He’d planned the design so it wouldn’t be affected negatively when the hair returned, but he liked the unique experience of seeing that broad expanse as a tanned, firm canvas. Beneath the kilt, Niall was just as bare and firm, but Evan wanted him even firmer. He indulged a vision of pushing his servant to his knees, raking up the kilt and taking him right here, before the curious early arrivals.

Niall was leaning against the cross in a seemingly casual pose, but now his head lifted, attention shifting to the vampire.

“Maybe afterward,” Evan murmured.

He was ready to begin. Even though there was a sign posted outside the silk cord, Artist at Work—please keep voices down to help with creative process, it wasn’t necessary. His head would soon enter that space where he would create, tuning everything out. The canvas would be everything. He’d stood in the middle of a plant factory, machinery so loud the employees wore ear protection, and gotten lost in photographing and sketching the workers’ faces, the mysteries they didn’t recognize in themselves as they became one with the machines. He’d turned that scene into a painting where the people were overlaid with a depiction of the creation of the world, the divine machinery that put it all into motion. It had been one of his more complex works.

This was not so complex, but it would be equally absorbing. He’d already developed it in his head, and knew eventually Niall would bear three dragons on his flesh. Evan could see each clear in his mind, how they would relate to one another on his servant’s skin. He wouldn’t do them all at the same time, but every detail of this first, fierce male predator must be perfect. A protector for his most important treasure, the man whose heart embodied the noble tragedy of the chaotic mortal world.

Niall remained still as he circled him and the cross. He was being uncharacteristically obedient, but he understood the environment enough to respond to it appropriately, even if it wasn’t his natural way. His lips tightened, though, as Evan knelt before him. Capturing his Scot’s gaze, he slid his hands under the kilt, up the powerful thighs, thumbs grazing the testicles as he wrapped long fingers around Niall’s hips, the curve of buttocks. The carnival was so saturated with sexual promise, it took no time for Niall to respond, his cock rising, held in place only by the heavy fabric of the utility kilt.

Evan easily read Niall’s desire to see his Master take his cock in his mouth. On the occasions Evan had done that, Niall was usually at his mercy, hands tied above his head or behind his back, body hard and straining toward Evan’s relentless mouth. But here, his hands were free, body held back only by Evan’s command. He could thread his fingers through Evan’s silken dark hair, tighten and pull, push him down harder, feel his clever mouth and tongue at his pace, all along his shaft.

Evan rose, meeting him near eye to eye. Provocative, neshama. Stay still. Fingering Niall’s belt, he unbuckled it. His servant obeyed, though his tension increased. Evan removed the kilt, folded and put it aside. Niall was barefoot, so now he was fully naked, on display for the admiring—and growing—crowd. Evan didn’t blame them for looking. Niall’s muscles were developed through his hunting and scouting skills, his combat training and their active physical life. The fighting skills were necessary, but in watching Niall train, Evan often reminded him those skills were to be employed against servants or other humans with nefarious intents; not for Niall to step between him and another vampire.

Niall gave him a gimlet eye now, since Evan was letting him see the drift of thoughts in his mind. The day might come when I save your arse.

Lord Uthe’s letter of patronage is sufficient to handle the vampires.

Aye. Vampires are a civilized lot. All of ’em offer you tea while their lawyers look that over. Nae a single one of them has tried to rip you to shreds for being in a territory, unmarked by the overlord. Oh, wait. A couple o’ them have, aye?

Evan gave him a level look. Sliding his hand onto Niall’s broad shoulder, he tangled his fingers in the man’s loose hair. “Get on the cross.”

Niall angled his chin, brushing Evan’s knuckles and freeing his hair in a slow movement, the men’s gazes staying locked. Then he inclined his head. Moving to the cross, he aligned his arms with the upper ties, spreading his legs to accommodate the lower part. The way he looked on it made Evan wish he had the ability to carry such a thing on all his travels. Now he crisscrossed the straps provided over ankle, calf and thigh, then biceps, forearms, wrists. As he cinched them, he noted his servant’s cockstand became more pronounced and thick. When he was done binding him, he stroked it with a curled fist, squeezing the heavy balls. Niall’s pulse leaped, the broad chest expanding. Turning his attention to the crowd, Evan saw admiring glances, even from the pretty slaves ordered to keep their gazes down. He didn’t blame them for the transgression.

He raised his voice so he could be heard by the audience. “I need a female slave to keep my servant occupied while I prepare. Any volunteers?”

The redhead in the blue see-through frock has a mouthwatering rack.

Stop trying to direct, or I’ll pick the biggest, ugliest male brute out there to work you like a steam engine.

Bugger off. It’d be a shame to break this cross. You couldnae afford to pay Tyler for it.

Evan pressed his lips against a smile. Ironically, the dark-haired Hispanic Master of the redhead with superior heavy breasts and lush hips had stood up, bringing her with him. “My slave, Leila, is at your service. I am Joseph.”

Evan could already smell her arousal. The overload of sensual stimulation in this environment had her dripping wet. Niall, with his heightened third-mark senses, would be driven crazy by the scent. Perfect. It would help him manage the pain. “My thanks. I want her to work him in her mouth during my preparations. But I don’t want him to come. Just get him so close to it he’s hurting for it. I want to hear him beg.”

Not in this lifetime.

Evan noted Niall’s hands curling into clenched fists inside the restraints, and wondered if he was even aware of it. Probably not.

“As beautiful as your slave is, I doubt mine’s self-control. Put this on him first.” Opening the container beneath the table holding his tattoo supplies, he lifted out a heavy cock ring, one he knew was a tight fit on Niall, a torture and provocation at once. At Joseph’s nod, Evan handed it to Leila.

“Go do as the Master instructed,” her Dom told her. “Don’t let him come.”

“Yes, sir.” As she moved toward Niall, the Scott fastened a glittering gaze on Evan. To lubricate the ring, Leila placed it in her mouth. Finding Niall already too tumescent for that to work, Leila proved herself a quick thinker. Kneeling where Niall could see her, she spread her knees, and the ring disappeared between her legs, along with a couple of her fingers. When she removed it, dripping with her body’s natural lubricant, Niall’s gaze was now pinned on her.

This time, she was able to get it to the base of his cock, though she had to work it over him carefully. Niall said something to her that made her cheeks flush, her lips part before she settled herself on her knees. Placing her short but well-manicured nails on his thighs to balance herself, she put her moist lips on the broad head of his cock and slid down the shaft, taking him almost to that ring. When she slid back up, her throat worked in a most engaging manner.

Evan closed his eyes, enjoying the first shudder through Niall’s mind as much as the outward reaction of his body. “Would you lend me your assistance, Joseph?” At his nod, he handed the Dom a blindfold. “He’s never docile, but he’s more intriguing when he can’t see.”