Page 63 of Vampire's Choice

Ruth leaned forward. Gideon was right. Merc’s form was almost as flawless as Daegan’s. When the two men at last engaged, a roomful of held breath released, blending into the sound of blades meeting, a chime of metal, a sliding together that drew sparks.

Extraordinary footwork took over. The katanas could decapitate, slice through flesh and bone as if it were nothing. But the dance and control were the thing here. They weren’t seeking the kill or a decisive win. Anticipating and countering the other man’s movements, that was the competition.

It was awe-inspiring to watch. Forward, back, a leap from Daegan, a lift from Merc, using his wings. Spinning, and now they brought more hand-to-hand into it, incorporating kicks, strikes with a free fist, the hilt of the sword. The dust they put on the Big Top floor for traction was kicked up in small plumes.

Above them, in the upper levels of the Big Top, the bright, glittery motes of pixies darted about like hyperactive fireflies, excited by the match. Since Clara had told Ruth how alert the tiny Fae were to the bigger life forms occupying their space, what happened next took everyone by surprise.

One of those frenetic sparkles shot downward, right into the path of Daegan’s blade. Proving his words to Ruth, he was able to check the sweep, but seeing the pixie barreling right at the katana’s edge, no time to change course, Daegan knocked the creature off track with as gentle a strike from the back of his hand as he could manage.

It still sent the pixie spinning through the air. He plunged downward and thumped to a halt against the base of the wall near where Gideon, Ruth and Adan were sitting.

A gasp snapped Ruth’s gaze back to the center ring. Merc, in the middle of a spin, wasn’t expecting Daegan to be where he was. There was no avoiding the contact, perhaps the rare exception to Daegan’s rule. Merc’s sword sliced across Daegan’s shoulder. Blood spurted and Daegan staggered, causing another exclamation from those watching.

Yvette’s piercing gaze shot to the cloud of pixies above the center ring. In a heartbeat, the bulk of them vanished, slipping out the nearest tent seams.

All except two young male pixies, who zoomed down to check on their fallen comrade. As Gideon surged to his feet to go to Daegan, Ruth grabbed and pushed him, to make him sidestep. At his startled gaze, she directed his attention to the fallen pixie who would have been trampled under his boot.

“I’ve got this. Check on Daegan.”

Ruth knelt over the pixie, aware of the other two chattering. They were on her shoulders, grabbing her hair. The pixie blinked blearily. Seeing he was conscious, the other two crowed and bounced up and down on her collarbone, hanging onto her hair.

Even without interpreting the language, she could tell his friends had dared him to “dash” between the blades. Ruth barely resisted the urge to swat them.

Fortunately, someone else was willing to do the honors. An older female pixie with a stern matronly air descended upon them. She flitted in front of Ruth’s face as if she wasn’t there. Her focus was on the dazed male she hovered over, her fussing also requiring no translation. She landed next to him to do a closer check.

“Is he all right?”

Ruth looked up. Daegan stood a couple feet away. He appeared unconcerned about the blood soaking the towel Gideon held against his shoulder, but his arm hung at his side, suggesting some muscle tissue had been cut.

With his strength and age, he’d heal fast. Especially with Gideon providing him whatever extra blood he needed. It still spoke well of the male vampire that, instead of being angry with the tiny creature, he was worried he’d done him irreparable harm.

Ruth looked back down to see the male pixie get to his feet. He was testing his wings and stretching all his limbs, likely to reassure his mother. With a smug smile, he gave a thumbs up to his friends.

The mother rolled her eyes and slapped his head, evoking an indignant retort. Ignoring it, she pulled him airborne by a wing and fired a machine gun of words at the other two, ordering them along in her wake as they exited the tent.

“Right now, yes,” she told Daegan. “Maybe not after his mother and Lady Yvette are done with him.”

“Better bisected by her tongue than my blade,” the vampire responded.

Gideon touched his arm, still holding the towel in place. He tilted his head toward an empty section of the tiered seating behind the wall. “Let’s get you the blood you need. Anwyn is having a conniption in my head. Next time you get clipped, do it out of range of Atlanta.”

Daegan gave him a half smile and nodded, allowing himself to be guided by his worried servant.

Though it was considered rude to stare at a senior vampire feeding for functional purposes, versus ceremonial ones or public sexual play, Ruth watched out of the corner of her eye as Daegan took a seat and Gideon sat beside him, offering a wrist. Daegan slid a hand behind his nape, caressing his servant’s shoulder and hair, while he lifted the wrist to his mouth and bit.

Even knowing the same thing she knew about Daegan’s healing abilities, Gideon’s eyes never left him, and he kept holding the towel to his Master’s shoulder, helping the blood to clot.

Gideon wasn’t unaffected by the contact, aroused by it as servants inevitably were. Just like vampires. She didn’t look toward her brother or Yvette, knowing they’d have their own response. It was how they were made, no shame to it, but it was why the courtesies were observed.

She could look toward Merc, though. He’d sheathed the blade after cleaning it and set it aside, and was watching Daegan feed off Gideon with undisguised attention. He wasn’t a vampire, and any sexual energy would capture his interest, whether or not it was meant for him.

When his gaze slid to her, she thought of the way he’d fed off her. That pull hadn’t only affected the obvious erogenous zones. All of her, her whole body, had been his to command, to take, to use for his needs, and she’d only wanted to give him more.

Maybe it was hazardous, her encouraging him down that road, but his longing to feed fully from her had been so obvious, and called to the part of her that wanted to satisfy him. She’d told him it shouldn’t be fatal to her, but he’d resisted.

Was he more concerned about the consequences of her being wrong, or of her being right?

Daegan closed the wound in Gideon’s wrist, leaning in to brush his mouth over his servant’s, the hair on their brows brushing as Daegan nuzzled his nose and cheekbone. When he rose, he stripped off the bloody shirt and put it in a trash barrel, along with the towel he’d used.

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