Page 43 of The Vampire Queen's Servant (Vampire Queen 1)

Chapter Thirty

They lay by the fire for the remainder of the night, saying little. She let him doze, knowing he wasn't quite used to her hours yet. It took the human body a long time to adapt to a vampire's schedule.

The third mark made that much easier. The mark she couldn't give him, no matter how strong the compulsion in her to do so was growing. The third mark would give him a much greater level of strength, enhanced senses on many levels. Not to mention the far deeper level of connection. She'd lied to Jacob somewhat on that. While she had been able to disconnect the link between her and Thomas, the awareness of his existence could not be totally blocked from her. She'd known the moment Thomas had died.

What's more, Thomas had known it, because she'd heard his dying words. Perhaps because when she'd felt his life essence slipping, she'd torn away the veil between them, acting on pure emotion, desperately seeking one last touch with him.

Good-bye, my lady.

Then nothing. That chamber of her heart forever empty in a blink, populated with inanimate memories. Dusty bookshops he'd loved, his spectacles sitting on a side table by firelight. Places he'd been with all the evidence of him except his living presence.

Her reverie drifted into a predawn doze, for she woke out of it only as Jacob lifted her, took her to the bed and slid her naked under the covers, arranging them over her.

"You aren't going to lie with me until dawn comes, Sir Vagabond?"

He bent over her, studying her as she reached out. When he pressed his lips to her wrist, she thought she could look at that straight nose, the firm lips and clear, clear blue eyes, for hours. She tangled her fingers in the strands of reddish hair that fell forward over his shoulder. "My lady only has to ask, " he murmured as if there was something sleeping in the room he didn't wish to wake. "There's nothing I'll refuse her. "

"Until dawn, " she murmured back, closing her eyes.

Jacob lay down next to her. She curled against him with the deceptive docility and appeal of a kitten, when a few hours before she'd done everything she could to tear his soul to ribbons. He reflected there was nothing linear about their relationship. They didn't even have the upward consistency of a spiral. He was beginning to sense this was the way she loved, as mercurial as a fairy in truth, choosing by some random path of her own which thought or action she would pursue next. He might as well predict the direction to chase a butterfly through a meadow of wildfiowers so colorful he could barely distinguish between the creature he chased and the nodding blooms.

Of course a bat flitting through the night sky after a mosquito was more apt. A smile tugged at his lips. He saw from his watch dawn was minutes away. She'd had a long night and her body was settling. Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he brushed his lips over her ear. "Sleep, my lady. I'll take care of everything aloft. "

"I know you will, " she said sleepily. "Go now. Let me rest. "

Because he knew it was a command, he did, albeit reluctantly.

When he looked back from the top of the stairs, he watched her until the opening slowly faded, taking her and the mystery of her thoughts away from him. Except for the jagged cut of the last drowsy sentence she uttered in his mind.

I won't have need of you tomorrow night.

***

He'd apparently put in a long day. She found a neat stack of her account books and the usual summary of daily tasks addressed on her credenza in her office when she got up. The routine she preferred when she didn't want his attendance was to rise, review the status of her household and business interests, and then either pursue her evening errands or seek him out on her own time, if at all, if she then had need of him.

The vampires who ran businesses in Lyssa's Region had regular correspondence with her, and she skimmed the report of their requests and questions, noting Jacob had handled most of those as her agent and handled them well. She could tell her servant's intuition was benefiting her interests. He'd noted Jonas of the Savannah territory seemed nervous about his fourth quarter estimated earnings. Myra in Raleigh needed an additional employee but was preferring to work herself to death rather than admit she needed help running the lucrative crystal shop.

The window people had come to replace the piece of plywood he'd put over the window in the upper hall with a new sheet of plate glass until she decided if she wanted to commission a new stained glass work. Despite her preference for a hired limo, she had three cars in her garage. He'd checked them for operating condition and found two in need of work. He'd gotten to one and would handle the other later in the week. Today also had been the cleaning staff's day and he left her a general inventory of what was in the kitchen in case she had any other events planned for the near future. He'd called in a carpet crew to clean the Aubusson in the dining room.

"I ought to take that out of your salary, " she observed with amusement.

As the clock ticked and she finished her review, she made herself sit back in her chair, tap her fingers on the desk. One at a time, a ripple of motion. She'd told him he wouldn't see her tonight. After last night by the fire, her own desires meant nothing. She had to rein it back in. They were not lovers. She couldn't let him develop emotional ideas.

"Damn it, " she muttered. The tapping became a drumming. Hadn't she as much as said this would happen? You'll be like a dog I've allowed to misbehave . . .

Why shouldn't she spend time with him if she wanted to do so? He was her servant. She didn't have to justify anything.

Rising abruptly from the desk, she moved into the hallway, headed toward the sound of the television. It was coming from the den area, which she knew was his preferred place for leisure time, though he didn't take much of it. The quick swim in the pool, playtime with the dogs, an occasional movie or news program. He didn't care for idleness, her vagabond knight.

But why would he? He was a strong young man in excellent health, in the prime of his life. Which brought her the image of his arms, muscles taut, in a variety of favorite images. Playing tug-of-war with Bran, replacing a rotted piece of framing board on the second level, the hammer descending in smooth strokes. Drawing her close so that her fingers could whisper over the curves of those firm biceps.

The closer she got, the more her step increased, though she kept her movements silent and blocked Bran's awareness of her approach.

The den library was a sunken area. She sat down on the top of the steps leading into it, preferring to watch the scene unnoticed for a few moments.

Jacob was stretched out on the couch, wearing just a pair of jeans. He had a bowl of popcorn on his bare abdomen, remote in hand as he watched a movie. His feet were propped up on the opposite arm and he was occasionally throwing Bran a piece of the popcorn. The dog was amusing him by catching it in midair, most of the time.

"Don't give me that look. That pitch was not too high, " he informed the wolfhound as Bran had to go retrieve a piece that went under the adjacent chair, managing to scoot it back several inches in his hunt. "It does you some good to move. Getting all lazy and fat, lying around watching television. " "From where I'm sitting, that sounds like the pot calling the kettle black, " she commented.

Jacob tilted his head, then swung his legs to the floor. She was almost sorry for the change of pose, enjoying the sight of that lean half-naked body on her couch.

"I can turn this off, my lady, if you wish to--"

"No. Leave it. " She paused, feeling incomprehensibly awkward.

He considered her. "Did I misunderstand you? I thought you said you wouldn't require me tonight. "

"I don't. " She rose, smoothed her hands across her skirt.

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