Coming over to him, she shot him a look of mild reproof. “It’s a good thing you’re handsome. Otherwise, they’d call security to remove the creepy man from the women’s underwear section.”

“I’m happy ye find me easy on the eyes, muirnín.” He gave her another wink, then studied her choices. His silent inspection made her feel uncomfortable, as did the look he raised to her face.

“You’re doin’ it again,” he said. “Evan wants ye to pick out things you like. Consider this your two hours, aye?”

She didn’t want to wear things that Evan and Niall didn’t like, so why couldn’t she pick the things she was sure they would? Evan wanted her to express her desires, because he said it increased their pleasure with her. Why couldn’t that work in the opposite direction? Even though he’d been teasing, of course Niall would prefer her to wear a string bikini. Imagining the way he’d look at her when she wore it heated her from head to toe.

That hard knot moved up under her ribs. The store seemed overly warm. She ran a hand under her hair, lifted it. She was now nervous and out of sorts, almost teary. Why couldn’t they let her be who she was, instead of trying to make her into something different?

Because you aren’t a true servant. You’re a failure. You don’t know what you are . . . lost little girl . . .

She’d moved away from Niall, was at the store’s interior opening to the rest of the mall. Crowds of people moved like ocean waves, crashing into shore. She shrank to the wall, a secluded corner formed by the display mannequin. She envied the doll its mindless stoicism.

Niall was still with her. He put his hands on her arms. “It’s okay, lass. Easy.”

“No, it’s not easy. I can’t do this.” She didn’t want to sound angry or frustrated. That wasn’t her. But she wanted to push away, she wanted to run, and she never ran from anything. In reaction, she sank down to the floor, a defensive, folded position, her knees under her chin, fingers linked on them. It made her smaller, more walled-up, less noticeable. She needed to breathe.

“Aye, you can. Ye can do anything.” He squatted on his haunches before her, shielding her from curious eyes with his wide shoulders. She never caused public scenes. She stared at his knees.

“Help me, Niall. Help me make sense of it.”

He paused. She focused on the rise and fall of his chest, tried to let the steady rhythm restore the same to her.

“If ye truly ken there’s a difference between wantin’ to do it because ye feel obligated, and doing it because pleasing him pleases you, then that’s different. Don’t ye think?”

She lifted her eyes to his face. “Is this what Evan called cheating?”

He lifted a broad shoulder, his lips quirking. “Not so much, because you’re the more honest of the two o’ us. Ye’ll decide if what I say is true or not. Ye like him, no?”

“I don’t . . . liking or not liking him makes no difference to a servant’s actions.”

“Perhaps it does in this case. Ye like him. You’re thinking o’ what he’d enjoy seeing ye wear, and that makes you feel guid, makes you anticipate what he might like. He’d be fine with that. Long as the feeling’s true.”

Maybe her reaction had alarmed him, such that he was merely soothing her, but his words did make sense. “It is. I do . . . like him. Is that how you do it . . . how you make choices? Do you dress for his pleasure?”

“Aye. My platform heels and baby-doll nightgown drive him insane with lust.”

She tried to cover her startled laugh, but he took her fingers away, held both her hands.

“’Tis just shopping, lass. Picking out a frock. Let’s get on with it, aye? A lad loses a pint of testosterone for every minute he’s in a woman’s clothing store. If we dinnae go soon, I’ll be eyeing the purses and stockings.”

Nodding, she let him help her to her feet. He plucked the first dress she’d chosen from her hands. “Why did ye think he’d like this one?”

“The splashes of color on the skirt are like marks from a paintbrush, so the flared hem will set them off well when I move. The pattern on the bodice is from a Monet print.” She gave him a small smile. “And the neckline will show cleavage.”

“Sounds bonny, but this one will show off even more of everything.” He plucked a leopard-skin print tube dress off a rack. The short skirt had a hip-high slit in the side. “With these earrings.” From a display on top of the rounder he unhooked a pair of large orange plastic ones, shaped like stars.

“You are teasing me.” She elbowed him in the hard stomach, made him put the dress back.

“I’ll go into the dressing room and watch you put it on.”

She arched a brow. “What if Master commanded you to go into the dressing room with me, but you were only allowed to sit in a chair and watch, not touch me? What would you say to that?”

First she’d teased him about the bikini, now this. She wasn’t sure who’d taken over her mouth, but she knew who took over her senses in the next second when his tawny gaze kindled. He leaned down, his lips nearly brushing hers, and she stopped breathing, except for the necessary pleasure of inhaling him.

“I’d say ‘Master’ isnae around to stop me from doing whatever I like. I’ll gladly take his punishment later.” His arm around her waist, he drew her to him, putting his lips back to that same spot on her throat, nose pushing aside her ponytail so he could tease her with his tongue, tracing her collarbone. He dropped his touch, taking a firm grip of her ass to press her against him. He was hardening under his jeans. Even without Evan providing the conduit, she could visualize what Niall wanted to do to her in the dressing room.

“We’re in a public place,” she whispered, clutching his upper arms. If it was Evan, she would provide no resistance regardless, but the few functioning brain cells she had left told her Evan might not be overly pleased to have to get them out of jail.

“I’d fuck you right here, to make it clear you’re taken property.”

Despite her best efforts at decorum, the weight of his desire swept her away, and not just his alone. You’re ours. He’d said that, and she felt it now, a sense of duality that she wasn’t sure he even realized was part of his personality, so closely connected to the vampire’s. He’d fuck her for himself, but also for Evan, staking his claim right alongside his own. Was it because even in his dreams, Evan registered a moment like this and made his presence felt in his servant’s mind, such that Niall’s subconscious and Evan’s were almost one and the same?

Niall’s aggressiveness made her feel . . . powerful. Sexy and desirable as well, and not just because she was groomed to be that way. It was how they made her feel, not her endless supply of beauty products and stringent exercise regimen. Was that what Evan had been trying to tell her?

Together they were teaching her to express passion in a way she’d never experienced before. Unsettled, she extricated herself from Niall to gather up the dress and her several other choices—but not the leopard print. When she hurried toward the dressing room, Niall was sauntering after her, casual as a stalking tiger. She would have discounted it as more of his sexual teasing, except she noticed the flick of his glance between her path and those of others in the store. She disappeared into the fitting area but then, thinking about it, came back out. Niall was leaning against the wall, waiting on her.

“Problem?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Am I in any danger here? Or are you are worried about me doing something I shouldn’t?”

“You’re not capable of doing something you shouldnae.” The corner of his mouth quirked. “Just best for me to keep ye in sight. We want to keep ye safe, muirnín.”

She thought of last night, of how they’d showed their understanding of the demons she fought. Niall knew he couldn’t protect her from those fears, but with his steady tawny gaze and the weight he gave to the last words, he was telling her he’d protect her from everything he could.

She’d been Stephen’s possession. Any protection he’d offered her had been about that, not about her. On its face, it sounded the same. But Stephen had never given thought to her safety, just her preservation for his needs. She’d understood that, accepted it. Even so, she had a perverse desire to put her arms around Niall and squeeze him as tightly as her heart was being squeezed.

Hastily, she withdrew before she embarrassed herself.

There were several women in the dressing area. She could hear the rustle of clothing being removed or adjusted. One had a friend with her, because they were comfortably chatting behind the louver doors. Sliding into an empty stall with pale pink walls and a velvet bench, she hung up the dresses and pulled off her top, toeing off her shoes to remove her jeans.

Since it was her first choice, she tried on the paint splash dress first. Though it fit, she could see where she could make it better, altering the upper body fit with her seamstress skills so the off-the-rack dress was more suited to her figure and more pleasing to her Master and Niall. When she was done, Niall wouldn’t miss the leopard-print dress.

Executing a spin, she confirmed the expansive hem flowed the way she’d expected. She’d need some accessories, but department stores were always having discount sales on such items. She’d find something suitable that would minimize the time Niall had to endure female shopping. The thought gave her a small smile. She’d smiled more these past few days than she had in thirteen years.

The cramp hit her so abruptly her forehead hit the mirror when she doubled over, cracking it. Putting the heel of her hand there in reflex, she crouched, counting her way through it. Breathe, breathe. When she’d been in the grip of such full-blown spasms, Debra had taught her ways to manage the pain. It didn’t stop them, but it gave her a focus until it passed. Only it hadn’t ever passed. Not until Brian figured out those injections.

The headache exploded, a battering ram against her brain. It was the symptom that indicated Stephen was back inside her mind. He could reach down into her soul, twist it . . .