Page 142 of Vampire's Choice
"Her accomplishments aren’t the problem."
“They don’t seem to carry any weight with you. Perhaps a human, one she’s bound to with the vampire-servant bond, is the only one she can trust enough to offer her submission.”
Ruth shook her head, wanting to back away, but Merc’s uncompromising look kept her where he’d put her. “She can’t offer it to vampires, who might take advantage of her position. You haven’t had any success finding such a male yourself among your people. As far as seeking someone from another race to fulfill her needs, the relationship between the Fae and vampires is still very touchy. With angels…” He spread out his arms. “There’s only so much of this to go around.”
“You are such an ass.” She collapsed on the beach, wincing at the sand grating in sensitive places. In the aftermath of the punishment, which assuaged some of her inexplicable guilt, she couldn’t argue with his logic. But it didn’t change her feelings on it, which made it worse.
“I just…I wish she hadn’t shown us that. I wish she didn’t know about me.”
“It’s as she said. She didn’t want you to feel alone in the vampire world, a unique oddity.”
“A freak. You can say it.”
“So now you are two freaks who know of one another.” Merc drew closer, with a slight wariness that mollified her. She wasn’t entirely unthreatening.
“You fight dirty, that’s all.” When he dropped to his heels, he put his hand to his jaw, testing it, and added, “It doesn’t mean I’m afraid to be near you. Ever.”
“Why are you doing that? I didn’t land a face punch.” Though it hadn’t been for lack of trying.
“Garron has a very strong fist.”
Her eyes widened, then she smiled. And chuckled. Feeling better. Sort of.
He’d…spanked her. And while it had been terrible, humiliating, a part of her had wanted it. Wishing it could make it all better. She also couldn’t deny the flood of arousal it had caused. She didn’t know how to feel about that.
I do. It makes me want to do it all over again.
Ruth pressed her fingertips over the bridge of her nose. “I need to apologize. Not because you said I had to.” When he gave her a very Master look, she sighed. “I mean, yes, but…fuck it, you know what I mean.”
His lips pressed against a near smile, but it didn’t lessen the intensity. “I do.”
She’d told Merc she wanted to do this alone. Agreeably, he said he’d stay in the bar area to make himself a Jack and Coke, and maybe peruse Kaela’s library.
Fabulous. Glad he could have a cocktail and chill while she went to eat a huge helping of crow.
She hissed when he swatted her ass on the way to the bar. “I bet hair remover works on feathers,” she threatened. She wanted to rub her stinging posterior—the male could deliver a smack, and she was still hurting from the beach pummeling—but refused to lose her dignity. She’d do it when she was out of his sight and hope he didn’t tune in to snicker at her.
Merc caught her wrist before she could flounce away. Miserable, she closed her eyes and allowed him to touch his forehead to hers. It helped. “You’ll feel better after you speak to Kaela,” he told her. “And I’m in your head whenever you need me.”
She dipped her head into his touch. Lifted it to meet his gaze. “Thanks.”
She wondered if his acts of care surprised him as much as they did her. But they were definitely welcome.
When she reached Kaela’s office, Garron was stepping over the threshold, about to pull the door closed behind him. She could tell he was set to say his lady wasn’t taking any visitors. Then his jaw flexed. “You’re welcome to go in.”
Kaela’s desire, not his. He left the door ajar, as much courtesy as he’d extend. When he headed down the hallway, Ruth could tell he didn’t want to leave Kaela alone with her.
What would it be like, to be a Master who had to pretend to be a servant, to have to step back, get out of the way, when his submissive needed him?
“I didn’t mean to hurt her.”
He didn’t turn toward her, but Garron paused, his chin turning toward his shoulder. A brief acknowledgment. Then he kept going.
Her mind in turmoil, she stepped inside the office. She was prepared to see Kaela as she’d been ever since they arrived. Tastefully dressed, every hair in place. Instead, she realized why Garron had been prepared to turn her away.
Kaela had a blanket around her bare shoulders, her legs bent and feet curved over the edge of the chair where she sat by one of the large windows. She gazed out at the picturesque Monterey surf, the scattering of stars. As far as Ruth could tell, she wore nothing under the blanket. Her red hair tumbled over her pale shoulders.
“Long ago, I sat at a small window in my small home, looking over fields stripped by a foraging Union army. They were so hungry. It was the war where both sides learned the terrible effort of keeping thousands on the march fed, clothed, the wounded and dead tended. An awful time. My husband was already dead by then. I didn’t know that.”