The Vampire Queen's Servant (21 page)

Bran came and pushed against her
leg, earning an ear rub. As she leaned over to do so, her clipped hair fell
over her left shoulder, brushing the top of the dog's head. "In short, we
live by ancient rules," she said in a crisper voice. "Our natures
unleashed would result in a full-scale war with the human race. We may be far
superior to humans, but your numbers are far vaster, and your grasp of
technology more advanced. We must strike a harmonious balance."

"It sounds very
civilized."

"Does it?" She
considered that. "Then I've left a great deal out."

He bit back a smile, though his
mind was still turning over her words, interpreting the personal nuances behind
them. Trying to figure out how her mind worked. To cover his ruminations, he
bent his head back over the open catalog. "How about this? It's a non-bake
version of a fruit cake. It has marshmallows, raisins, graham crackers—"

"That sounds far too
mundane."

Jacob pointed to a paragraph.
"Except it says that it smells like freshly made candy."

Coming around the corner of the
island, she laid a hand on his shoulder. When she leaned forward to look, her
breast brushed the side of his arm. It wasn't the first time she'd touched him
since she'd joined him in the kitchen. Possessive touches, as if he was hers to
absently stroke as she was doing now, her hand shifting to his neck to play
with the hair he'd queued back. Even without being told, he knew the liberty
was not two-sided. Her demeanor, those touches aside, was all business. Even
now she was segueing on other things Thomas had taught him about preparing for
guests, while offering him points of etiquette specific to these guests and
throwing in domestic instructions.

As he listened, a part of his
mind wondered if he dared to test it, see if it was just a surface façade. Give
in to the desire to run his hand down her back and feel the slight bump of her
bra strap under the plush sweater. Play with the tips of her hair with his
fingers. Risk a rebuff, or the tempting possibility of
not
being
rebuffed.

In the end, he remained still.
For one thing, the information she was giving him was critical to running her
house. The way he handled it would determine if he could be the human servant
Thomas said he could be with his last dying breath. Based on the things she'd
told him thus far, her responsibilities were considerable. It underscored why
Thomas had been concerned about her having someone who could watch her back
during daylight hours. She was a protector herself, his Mistress.

Even more important, a quiet
wonder flitted through her concentrated expression each time she touched him
this way. He instinctively kept his head bent over the task of writing now as
she stared at his profile and traced the hair at his temple, the curve of his
ear. If he chose not to remain passive, he suspected he would take that joy
away from her. While he might succeed in replacing it with a different, more
volatile pleasure, his Mistress's desire at this moment appeared to be having
him quietly submit to her caresses. Surprisingly, he found he
could
curb his own sexual desire, assuaging it with the pleasure of watching her
rediscover the intimacy of casually touching a man who called himself hers,
giving her that right.

"You've made four dessert
selections so far," she observed. "While vampires don't eat, we do
like a balanced olfactory diet. I think you have a sweet tooth, Jacob."

"A whole mouth of
them," he agreed. "We'll have a total of four vampires and their
servants. I'm thinking we can do a sampler for each of them."

"Hmm. Not a bad idea at
all. But remember we'll only have four place settings. Servants don't eat with
us. They stand behind the chairs of their Masters and Mistresses."

"Through the whole
meal?"

Her green eyes glittered.
"The more obedient servants hardly blink. They're like statues."

He had a variety of responses to
that, but he managed to swallow them and look down at the catalogs again.
"Here's what I have in mind for salads and the soup…"

She examined his choices,
approved most. As he watched her, another idea captured his imagination,
something which thankfully distracted him from his annoyance at the picture
she'd painted. His purpose wasn't to be an activist to revamp vampire society.
Instead, he'd taken his oath to serve every need of the vampire queen who was
one of the most powerful figureheads in it. "Have you ever smelled fresh
candy, my lady?"

She'd gone back to the kitchen
counter, for she was providing Bran scraps from a bowl in the fridge. "In
over a thousand years, I suppose I have. It's been awhile, though."

"There's an old-fashioned
candy shop at the new mall."

"Good. Pick us up a
selection there for the dessert."

"I was actually thinking
you might want to come with me. I need to pick out some clothes for the dinner.
The new mall's open 24/7." As she turned to look at him, a refusal already
evident in her expression, he pressed on. "In the center of the building,
there's a Ferris wheel in a glass atrium five stories tall. The wheel turns on
a ball, so it not only goes in circles straight up and down, but spirals like a
top. They do a light and fog show, so when the wheel tilts at an angle, it's
like you're going through a waterfall, all air currents and colors."

When she made a demurring noise
in her throat, he continued doggedly. "Waterfalls are the theme of the
mall's design, so there are displays throughout the complex. Not just in-house
designs. Some of them are sculptures on loan from museums for this first month
of the mall's opening. I notice you've got quite a few fountains on your
grounds. You might see one you'd like to purchase, or an artist you'd like to
commission."

, As he described the Ferris
wheel, Lyssa watched the movement of his hands, the sparkle in his eyes., the
half smile on his firm mouth. She'd started the morning by ordering him out of
her presence. A moment ago, she'd made sure he understood that not only would
he be viewed as inferior in the presence of other vampires, he would be
required to act accordingly. His response to that dampening information was to
invite her on a date. Her lips twitched. Perhaps she should have told him
everything he could expect at the dinner, though she wanted the element of
surprise to see how he'd handle himself. He'd encounter far worse at the
Vampire Council Gathering.

Bran put his paws up on the
island's edge to get Jacob's attention, managing to snag one of the legal pads.

"You great mop.
Begone." Jacob shoved the paws off and gave him a thump on the head with a
rolled-up catalog. Bran answered with a loud woof and beat the side of the
cabinet fiercely with his heavy tail, setting off a cacophony from the pots and
utensils hanging off the two ends.

"Geez. Here." Jacob
picked up an orange out of the fruit bowl and sent it in an impressive sizzling
straight line drive across the kitchen. It hit the dog door with enough force
to send it through. Bran dashed after it. She heard the barking of the other
dogs, startled by the appearance of the orange, initiating a mass chase.

Jacob winced. "Well, I'll
be restoring the landscaping on the back walkway tomorrow. You know, I don't
think he's half as tough as he'd like you to believe."

"Most males aren't."
Lyssa crossed her arms. "I don't usually go out in public. Not in an uncontrolled
environment like that. I attract too much attention and make a target of
myself."

"You just said you're at
somewhat of a lull. What if I got you a disguise of sorts? Planned to get us
there in a way we're less likely to be followed. You're interested,
right?"

She cocked her head. "Yes.
But can you escort me on this excursion and still have everything prepared for
my party?"

"Yes, wicked stepmother.
I'll have everything planned to the last detail while the mice sew my dress
together." He tapped the top of the legal pad with the menu. "You'll
have the full proposal with all the details by tomorrow when you rise."

She narrowed her eyes at the
reference and pressed her lips together at his unrepentant grin. "What
kind of disguise?" she demanded.

His pleased expression warmed
her far more than it should have. "Will you trust me to surprise you, my
lady?"

Studying him, she was sure she
saw mischief simmering behind those clear blue innocent eyes.

"I'm going to regret
this," she decided. "But I can still tear off your arms and beat you
with them if you make a mockery of me."

He gave her a quick, absent
smile as something caught his attention and he bent his head back over a
magazine. Lyssa wasn't sure if his reaction made her want to make good on her
threat now or eat him alive, but either way, she knew she was in perilous
waters. But then, she'd been in those for so long, she should have fins by now.
Was Jacob somehow Thomas's version of a personal flotation device?

How much did you know, monk?

For the next few nights, she
made herself keep her distance. She assigned him a well-appointed room in the
servants' quarters, making it clear he needed an invitation to join her in her
bedroom.

She met with him for an hour
during the early part of the night to answer any questions, but after that she
would dismiss him from her presence, indicating her need to handle business
away from the mansion where he was not invited, or to work on her own matters
that were none of his concern.

However, instead of going on her
errands or sequestering herself in the room he could not access without her
help, she watched him. With the one mark, she could locate him anywhere, but
the preternatural stillness and swiftness of a vampire allowed her to be in the
same room with him undetected, a shadow dancing at the edges of his peripheral
vision.

She told herself she was
verifying his competency, his trustworthiness, his discipline when
unsupervised. She also needed to know the man, and one of the best ways to know
a man was to see what he was when he thought he was alone.

He took meticulous notes. Not
only when she spoke to him, but as he learned other things on his own. He'd
scribble the information in the dozen multicolored composition books he had.
Gazing over his shoulder when he was deep in thought over them, she saw dates
and notes he'd made under Thomas's tutelage. She had four houses and eight safe
havens. He'd coded them all with names known only to her and Thomas, the
addresses not written down anywhere. Then there were scrawled references to the
security systems, the more mundane aspects of utility bills, landscape
scheduling, winterizing and maintenance issues. Most of those items were
handled by trusted companies, usually owned and operated by other vampires or
their servants, but it was her servant's responsibility to oversee it all, make
sure they did what they were paid to do.