“I want you to come for me, lass,” he whispered in her ear. “I want tae hear you cry out. Let our Master hear your pleasure.”

He started moving once more, and this time she caught on fire within only a few strokes, as if by words alone he’d brought her to that pinnacle.

Come for us, Alanna.

Evan’s voice, and all she needed. The two of them around her, even if it wasn’t in the same room. They were both in her mind as the cleansing fire swept through, carrying her with it. She moaned against Niall’s flesh as he thrust deep. Curving his powerful back, he latched onto her nipple and suckled it, drawing out the orgasm in an excruciating roll of pleasure that kept on and on as he worked his hips against her, her body arched up into his, wanting to fuse every inch of her flesh against his.

“Sweet lass,” he muttered against her. His hips pushed her legs wider, and she drummed her heels on his tight backside, in rhythm with his thrusts, her nails digging into his shoulders, drawing blood.

He rolled them then, putting her on top. He stayed in charge, controlling her descent, his gaze latched onto the quiver of her breasts with each solid downward impact. She was riding his aftershocks, but he wasn’t done. She clenched on him, dropping her head back, crying out with pleasure when he reached up, caught her throat to hold her upper body straight. It made her feel owned, possessed, the mere thought sending her over another pinnacle. One that became even more intense when he released himself, jetting hot seed into her welcome heat.

In the aftermath, as she sprawled over him, he brushed a kiss over her forehead. “Now ye can take that shower. But we leave in the next half hour, so no lingering over female nonsense.”

The teasing smugness in his voice made her think about getting onto her knees and whacking him with the pillow. Then he added, “You’d be lovely if I took you tae town just as you are. Though I’d much prefer to stay here and do this all the day.”

She wanted to stay here, too, just like this, for the next decade. However, the past few minutes were gift enough. She couldn’t ask for more, nor should she. As she slipped from the bed, she sensed his gaze on her. He rolled out the other side, zipping the pants only enough to hold them on his hips. “If we had a larger shower, you wouldnae be getting away from me so soon. I’ll take the outside spigot.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip, realizing she should offer to take the colder outside water, but instead she yelped as Niall’s shirt landed over her head, where he’d tossed it. By the time she removed it, he was striding down the hallway. She watched the play of the dragon on his back and the way those pants, low enough on his hips to show the upper rise of his buttocks, drew the eye to their movements. Then he disappeared out of view.

If she had three marks, she could have showed that view to Evan. She was sure he would have appreciated it as much as she did. Artistically, of course. She imagined taking that shower with Niall, her skin flushed anew. He’d pleasured her, but she was nowhere near sated. They’d unleashed a hungry monster inside her, and she wasn’t sure if she should thank or curse them for that.

With her fingers digging into the soft stuff of Niall’s shirt, she lifted it to her face, brushed it against her cheek. He’d let her sleep on his body in the glade, held her. Then he’d been so angry, arguing with Evan about her. That part had felt so horribly wrong, and not just because of her worry about them. All the terrible things she was having to contain, the worry and fear, the guilt and failure, could be cracked open so easily by such stress.

When she looked up, he’d returned, was studying her. She still had the shirt up to her face, making it obvious what she was doing. She lowered it, discomfited. “I’m hurrying. I was just—”

He shook his head, crooked a finger at her. She came to him, still holding the shirt against her. Putting his hand to her waist, he brought her full against him. He kissed her, long and slow. She made a noise in the back of her throat and stretched up on her toes, reaching for more of him. Sexual energy stirred, but something else, too. Her chest was tight as her arms circled his neck, fingers curling there, tangling in his long hair. His hand roamed downward, over her buttock, stroking, slow and easy. Soothing.

When he lifted his head, he was holding her weight with his solid strength. He squeezed her buttock. “Aw richt, then?”

The warm affection in his tone helped ease some things. She nodded. “I was fine. Am fine.”

“Okay.” He brushed her lips with his again. “Go get ready, then. We’re behind schedule.”

Though she hurried, he checked on her a couple of times while she was doing her hair. Apparently, Evan had also given him additional things for their “town list,” and since it was obvious going into the city wasn’t Niall’s favorite thing, her bear became more gruff and impatient.

She expedited hair and face preparations, not wanting to cause him further delays. It was a good decision, because as soon as she emerged in the main room, he had her out the door and bundled into the Rover. When she hesitated with her foot on the runner, looking back at the house, Niall touched her shoulder.

“Don’t worry, he’ll be fine. He always is.” That touch of acid suggested their fight was preying on his mind again. It had been frightening to watch, like savage dogs, but she understood men could be like that. Niall discouraged any conversation about it, however, maintaining an otherwise companionable silence with her until they reached the main highway.

He nodded to the console. “You can play some music if you want.”

She chose a playlist titled “Niall’s Theme Songs.” When it started with the powerful drum and guitar notes of “Eye of the Tiger” by Survivor, Niall gave it a disgusted look, hit the button to take it to the next selection, a more general rock tune. “Wiseass vampire. Oh, Evan wants ye to choose things for your daily two-hour deal. Skateboarding, macramé, beading, cookbooks, whatever.”

“I think you added the last one,” she said. “You want me to cook more.”

“Aye. Your cooking is far better than mine. Evan agrees.”

She smiled. “Do we have time to buy groceries? No offense to Henry, but there are things I can get in a city that he might not have.”

“We have time for that,” Niall decided. He shot her a teasing glance. “So what else are ye going to get? More romance stories?”

“Maybe a good spy thriller,” she said evenly.

“Pity,” he said. “I liked how the romance stirred ye up.” Reaching over, he stroked her hair away from her brow, passing his fingers through the ponytail she’d done so hastily. She leaned into the touch, quietly thrilled with such affection. When he took his hand away to adjust the music volume, she studied him. He had one knee comfortably propped against the driver’s door, an attractive look in his jeans, a button-down shirt loose over them, casual clothes that accentuated a body and presence that would catch any woman’s eye.

“So do you think about it?”

“What?” He changed lanes, moving smoothly around a slower car.

“When you . . . You’re three hundred years old.”

He cocked a brow. “You’re terrible at small talk, lass. ‘So, lad, have ye been thinking about your impending death?’”

She was torn between a smile at the exaggeration of his accent and her chagrin at the truth of it. “If you don’t want to talk about it—”

“Hmmph. Doesnae matter much, does it? It can happen anytime after the three-hundred-year line. Somewhere between one to three years for most, but some have lived tae see three-ten.” He shrugged. “Not much different from any other day with a vampire. It’s not the safest way to live your life, aye? Especially with Evan. He gets through other vampires’ territories on his charm and Lord Uthe’s sponsor letter, but plenty places are less respectful of that. He also takes plenty of risks for his camera shots. He’ll be barbecued one day, trying to get in that one extra moment, and that’ll be the end of me, right alongside him.”

“I’ve never known a vampire like him,” she admitted. “Or a servant like you. Who was he, before he was turned? If it’s not inappropriate to ask.”

“Not inappropriate to me.” He flashed teeth at her. “We’re all servants here, ma’am. He was an artist then as well. Showed a remarkable aptitude for it even as a wee lad, a child prodigy. He’s a Sephardic Jew, born in Italy. His da was a merchant and would ha’ had no patience for it, except Evan was bedridden most his life. They called it a wasting disease back then, nothing the doctors could do with it. The family business fell to the second son, because they didnae expect Evan to live. It went into remission for a few years, giving him a chance to travel about, but it came back with a vengeance by the time he turned twenty. He was dying when Lord Uthe discovered him. He’d stumbled on a few pictures Evan had sold, and tracked him down. When he found out Evan was near the end, he offered him immortality.”

She’d heard the various stories of made vampires, but she’d never heard anything as remarkable as that. She thought of how Evan could be so patient, remain so still. How he saw miracles in the most minute details. It was easy to imagine that skill being cultivated by an invalid child whose only changing landscape would have been through a bedroom window.

The Council was required to approve all turnings, but four hundred years ago, they hadn’t been in existence. Lord Uthe had acted on his own desires, which she found intriguing. The formidable right-hand member of the Council was an austere born vampire who’d served as a Knight Templar, a remarkable thing itself.

“I never realized Lord Uthe was a patron of the arts.”

Niall gave her a wry look. “He told Evan he wanted to see what a truly gifted artist would do with immortality. Ye know vampires are eternally curious about things like that, like little gods. He wanted to know whether mortality, the sense of the finite, gives an artist his talent, or if immortality would take it tae heretofore unknown heights.”