Page 19 of The Vampire Queen's Servant (Vampire Queen 1)

There were shadows in her eyes now, telling him the subject had taken a personal and perhaps painful turn for her. "At least there are strict rules on siring a vampire, " she continued. "If you make a vampire without consent, your life is forfeit. The fledgling is spared, but fledglings often die without the sire to watch over them in the first decade. Vampires are not generally nurturing to children not their own. Of course, there is no restriction on trying to create a born vampire. " She allowed herself a tight smile. "Otherwise known as trying to conceive a child. "

Vampires did not use birth control. Becoming pregnant with a vampire child was rare, and treasured. Lyssa had never conceived, but Thomas had sometimes sensed she would have liked to have been a mother. While the monk had been thankful it had not occurred with Rex, and based on what Jacob knew of his lady's husband at this point, he had to agree, he thought he heard a wistful note in her voice. He wondered if she'd ever hoped. . .

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 faade. 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 the

m. "

"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?

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