Page 37 of Vampire's Choice

Merc was something different, though.

Gundar was the dwarf smithy she’d seen earlier. Aside from the muscled, compact body, he had coal-dark eyes set deep in a brick-strong face, and handsome, thick sandy hair. He provided her so much information about the security detail, she thought she should have brought a way to make notes. He assured her it would all be reviewed again at the briefing, but when she asked where she could find Merc, his reassuring demeanor vanished. When he gave her a hard look, she realized something she’d suspected but hadn’t pinned down before that moment. He was a Dom himself.

Yvette’s two primary second marks were a submissive healer and a Dominant smithy and ringmaster. More stories to learn, more mysteries to solve.

“Don’t go looking for him by yourself, my lady.” His voice had a gravel-rough authority that didn’t brook argument. She had to remind herself he was just a human. As far as she could tell.

“Just Ruth.”

His brow arched. “You’re a born vampire.”

“Just Ruth,” she repeated.

She suspected he might have issued a stronger warning, as much as his status as a second mark allowed, but they were interrupted by a maintenance worker needing his input. So she gave him a cordial nod, and went in search of someone more willing to answer her question.

Buzz, a cook in the kitchen tent, drew the short straw. The male with frizzy blond hair pulled back in a ponytail had a lined, fifty-something face, brown eyes and tats on his arms and throat that suggested he’d once been in a gang or done prison time. Or both. He looked wary of her question, but at least he didn’t warn her like Gundar had. He also didn’t know where to find Merc.

“So he doesn’t bunk in a communal tent, or have his own wagon?” she asked.

“No one really knows where he goes when he’s not here.” She heard a hint of Australia in his voice. “Except maybe Marcellus and Lady Yvette.”

“No one’s really curious,” another cook put in, a lean black man with a gold front tooth and bristling moustache containing patches of gray. He laid a pan of brownies on the counter. Similar tattoos and comfortable body language suggested he and the blond man were friends with history. “They’re just glad not to deal with him.”

“Does he cause that much trouble?”

“Not so much as he did when he first came,” Buzz admitted. “But he never stops looking at you like I look at a cut of meat.”

“How he wants to cook it, and what recipe it’ll work best in.” The black man elbowed him with a half grin. Then he sobered as he looked Ruth over. “No offense, just some advice, ma’am, but…”

“Don’t go looking for him by myself. Got it. Thanks.”

Ruth moved off. As she did, she heard Buzz chide the other man in a low voice. He must not realize how acute vampire hearing was. “Cree, she’s a fucking vampire, mate. Don’t try to tell her what to do.”

“She’s not Lady Yvette. Merc is trouble she shouldn’t try to handle on her own. She seems like a nice girl.”

A nice girl. She’d never been called that before.

She spoke to one clown and two roustabouts. They didn’t know, either, but she helped the roustabouts move some crates into storage. They seemed glad for the help, so as she moved through the campground, she took other opportunities to assist, introduce herself and chat. Getting the lay of the land and learning the people would be useful to her job. Recognizing who belonged, who didn’t. Noticing what was out of place.

She didn’t downplay her vampire side, though, knowing some healthy fear would gain her quick compliance to her direction when her job required it.

She catalogued further questions to ask Marcellus, Gundar, or Dollar, who she expected she’d meet tomorrow, if he wasn’t sharing her quarters.

At the sanctuary, she’d worked hard to prove herself an asset. With their strong work ethic, her parents had taught her the value of honest labor and pulling her weight early.

“The Council, Region Masters and overlords get a lot of attention,” Kohana had told her and Adan when they were in their teens and understandably thinking of what that glamorous world would be like. “But most vampires aren’t that. They have to figure out how to earn a living, find a place where they can meet their blood needs and not attract attention. Enjoy their lives and find value in it.

“Doesn’t matter what race you are, pretty much all of them are set up like that. It’s not a bad thing, because it’s a balance. But I can promise you that your father has been far more content being what he is, doing what he does, than playing games of vampire politics, power and intrigue.”

His gaze had slid between the two of them. “Wherever life takes you, you’ll be your father’s offspring. And your mother’s. You’ll learn that’s not just a good thing; it’s the best thing you’ve got going for you.”

She’d reached the forest on the western edge of the Circus’s campground, a much thicker and deeper terrain than the small patches of trees around the lake. This was like the mountain lion habitat on the preserve, where the barely marked paths were created by the animals who lived and hunted there.

When she discovered a similar faint trail, it was marked by hoofprints. Ruth detected an equine scent, mixed with human male, but muskier, heavier. The Circus had horses, but Clara said they also had unicorns and centaurs.

It had to be a centaur. She’d love to tell her father she’d met one and give him all the details. As she’d told Charlie, Mal was keenly interested in animal behavior, habitat, hunting skills and instincts.

“Nerds,” her mother had murmured to her, during one of Adan’s too rare but precious visits. “They’re both nerds.”

---