Page 103 of Vampire's Choice
He gripped her arm and she tried to throw him off. When he refused to let her go, she swung, snarling. He took the punch when he could have blocked it, his head snapping back, but then he turned them, her back against his body. She did her best to bite him and kick his shins as he lifted her off her feet, but his wings folded around her, enclosing her in that soft darkness.
He didn’t use his incubus power to arouse and distract her, which would have turned her anger into full blown rage. Instead, he offered a wave of genuine emotion, surprising her enough to check her anger.
Regret. Agitation. Confusion.
That, and his next words, saved him from the cutting edge of her tongue. “When I was first assigned to him, Marcellus would throw out comments and questions that tipped over everything I believed. It annoyed me then. It annoys me now, though he does it less often. Your points were valid, and my answer was…unkind. But your tone with me was unacceptable. Fix it, if you wish me to consider your wishes."
Did he realize when he acted all in charge, he was more like Marcellus than he realized? Acting like…an angel?
Probably not the best time to point it out. She couldn’t manage a totally civil response, but she did force out a raw and honest one. “I’m a vampire. Sexual play with servants, in the company of other vampires, it’s part of our damn social structure. But what we share with someone…who matters, that has boundaries. It would hurt me to know you’d fed from another female because you prefer that to feeding from me.”
His grip on her eased, though he still held her close, his mouth next to her temple. “If I choose to do so, it’ll be because I’m protecting you. Not because I prefer another female. I can promise you that. While we’re together, in whatever we are in right now, that will be the truth. I want to feed off you every time, Ruth. When hunger stirs, you’re who I’m thinking of. Whether the hunger is merely a need for a sip, or to consume all of you.”
“You can take that from any woman.”
“Yes.” His gaze met hers. “But I can’t make them give me what you give me. What you offer. Freely. Willingly. And more importantly, I don't wish to take from them what I want to take from you.”
That mollified—quite a bit—but she wasn’t going to back away from the point. "I want you to have everything you wish from me. No limits. Maybe that’s stupid and crazy, but it’s the way I feel.”
“And why I’ll be the one to determine the limits. To protect you,” he repeated. “That’s the job of a Master, isn’t it? The submissive feels a natural desire to give him everything, when she opens herself up to that need. So he needs to protect her, even as he cherishes the gift.”
He backed off. As she turned his way, he folded his wings over his back, the tips overlapping near his ankles. His expression was still, waiting on her response.
“Have you been reading a Dom how-to manual?” she asked. “Because that sounded pretty impressive.” And had hit the mark of what she admitted was true about herself and her desire to submit, dead on. Not that she was going to tell him that.
His eyes showed humor, but the set of his mouth, his silence, said she wasn’t entirely off the hook.
“I was a bit mouthy,” she allowed. “I’m sorry. It’s just…I get a little crazy when I imagine you touching anyone else to feed. I can’t change that. Not while I feel the way I feel.”
His expression eased. “It’s how I feel about you as well. I’m all right with you taking blood from the cook tent, but if you wanted to draw it straight from someone…I would want it to be me. It also helps you, doesn’t it? Makes you stronger.”
“Yeah,” she allowed. “But I don’t want to use you that way.”
“Why? If you had a servant, that would be one of my primary jobs, wouldn’t it? If I’m also your Master, caring for you, for your needs…that falls under the same answer.” At her wry look, he pressed his lips together. “No, I haven’t been reading a book, but I pay attention on Play Night. I hear the discussions. I’ve learned without doing.”
Much as she had, up until meeting him. They were finding their way. She sighed and let the anger go. Then blanched. “Oh fuck, I practically dictated terms to Marcellus. I need to apologize.”
“But not to the Light Guardian?”
“That’s my brother. That’s different.” Though she probably did owe him a follow-up conversation. “I’m worried about Marcellus. He was worked up over Clara.”
After she explained, Merc offered her a hand. “It’s time for the security meeting. Let’s go support him the way he needs. That’s likely all the apology necessary. Clara is his mate.”
Merc’s hand was warm and firm on hers. They walked back, and he didn’t let her go. As they passed through the populated areas, she noted the startled looks, but also some tentative smiles. Maybe they were starting to see Merc as something different, more a part of the Circus.
If she’d had a hand in that, as Yvette and Marcellus had implied earlier, then she’d made as useful a contribution as helping with Clara’s protection, in her opinion. No matter how she and Merc ended up.
When they arrived at the tent where Dollar and the other team members were assembling, Adan was sitting on a stool, his heel hooked on a rung, arms crossed over his chest. His gaze touched their clasped hands.
You two are so cute. The incubus angel who can suck the life out of someone through their gonads, and the rip-your-throat-out-if-you-annoy-me vampire.
She narrowed her eyes at him. Eat shit.
Their version of an apology. He was trying to trust her judgment against his protective brother, alpha male, Dom concerns. She was telling him she understood and appreciated the love.
After a brief squeeze, Merc dropped her hand and moved to his normal spot, a few feet to Marcellus’ left. As he passed Adan, they exchanged a neutral look that held some of that same testosterone exercise he and Marcellus had had, but it stayed on low boil.
Ruth joined the security personnel, standing beside Helo and Burt and behind Zee. “Someone had a wild night,” Helo murmured. “Any interesting scars to show?”