Page 90 of Vampire's Choice
“If I discover no obstacles to the marking,” Marcellus said, shifting the focus, “including Merc’s consent to it, then we can also monitor the process.”
Ruth’s reaction to that was immediate, but her brother spoke before she could. “No.”
It surprised the angel, as did Yvette’s emphatic agreement. “The third marking is a sacred act, my lord,” the sorceress explained. “Very intimate, a coming together between the vampire and servant. While I have the same concerns about things that could go ‘awry,’ I think we let that call be Ruth and Merc’s. Merc can speak in your mind, can he not?”
Marcellus nodded, and the sorceress continued. “Perhaps when it is about to be done, he can let you know so you can be alert, from a distance, where it won’t disrupt the process.”
Marcellus looked toward Ruth. “If the marking does set off something in the demon side, I might not be able to get to you in time to prevent harm.”
Ruth glanced at Adan. He was letting it be her call. “I’m going to trust in what’s behind the marking to get us through it.”
Marcellus’s gaze showed interest in her response. “Very well. I will speak to him of it.”
“Shouldn’t that be my call as well?” she said.
“No.” Marcellus knew how to play dirty. He met her gaze with an expression that had her fighting not to do the gaze lowering thing, because he went right for the Master-sub vibe. “As you yourself pointed out, he has the right to make his own decision. Since you say you desire the marking, it is his call to bring it up with you. Correct?”
Yeah, yeah, whatever. She ignored Adan’s and Yvette’s amused looks. Damn Doms. So she was pushy and tried to top sometime. But how Marcellus realized that, besides the obvious qualities in her personality…she had to voice the suspicion. “Did he tell you that I pushed him to do the feeding thing? My lord.” She softened the demanding tone with the grudging addition of the title.
“He did not.” Marcellus’s dark gaze gleamed. “Merc has a formidable will. But if you did ‘push’ him to do the feeding, even if he capitulated for his own reasons, you might end up facing an interesting discussion about that as well.”
Shortly after that equally provocative statement, the conversation reached a natural end. It turned to portal and fault line matters between her brother and Yvette. A few minutes into it, the Circus owner dismissed Ruth with a subtle gesture.
As she exited the tent, Marcellus’s point stayed with her. Facing the possibility of that “discussion” created an unsettling, not entirely awful feeling in her.
She’d told Merc she didn’t mind a fight. With his blood and the homeless man’s helping her, it wouldn’t be too long before she’d have the strength to give him a fair one.
For the next several days, she didn’t get the chance to make that decision. Or hear how the third mark discussion had gone between Merc and Marcellus, though she did receive confirmation through Charlie that the Thrones and Keepers didn’t have any concerns.
She was busy doing security, this time in Alabama. Marcellus and Dollar made sure she was strong enough to work that first night—she was, though she was glad for her bed at dawn, and the bubble bath in healing oils Charlie blissfully arranged for her.
Both were lonely, though. What would it be like to share them with Merc? Be twined around him in slippery soap, then later in the bed, sheets pulled over their bodies, naked, still a little damp from having each other ten different ways before dawn claimed her. How would water affect his wings? Would he fluff them out like a stately heron? Or beat them powerfully in the air, sending water droplets everywhere? The thought gave her a smile, even as all of her thoughts made her ache for his touch.
When Merc did see her, even at a distance, his gaze lingered, telling her she was in his mind. His reasons for keeping away might be his own, but she didn’t feel ignored. Those brief looks could warm her for several hours. He didn’t speak in her head, but she remembered what he’d said about “feeling” her state of mind.
Occasionally, she instructed herself to discard the whole third mark discussion. In her weakened state, after the euphoria of him feeding on her, all sorts of things that had seemed possible seemed illogical and ridiculous. If he didn’t bring it up, she wouldn’t.
Wherever she and Merc were taking this thing between them, the vampire shit didn’t have to be part of it. He wasn’t in that world, and it was far better that he wasn’t. He had issues of his own to deal with, without taking that on.
It wasn’t as easy to discard Clara’s “dream,” especially when Yvette and Marcellus had felt it was important enough to discuss the possibility. When Ruth had gone to bed at dawn, after that meeting, Adan’s question stuck with her.
She hadn’t thought about taking a third marked servant, because she feared a servant would know she wasn’t a Dominant. Plus, a servant, by nature, wanted to serve. It wouldn’t have been fair. Ruth knew what being denied that outlet felt like. She also wasn’t ready to make herself vulnerable to a human that way. When it came to mortals, she had zero submissive inclinations.
Lord Brian could separate marked servants and vampires, usually without complications when the bond didn’t exceed a certain time period. If the servant was returning to the human world, their mind was wiped of the years they had spent in the vampire one. But it wasn’t foolproof. If Ruth’s submissive orientation was known, the only way to ensure that info was expunged would be to kill the servant. An act that was still tacitly okay in the vampire world, and left to the vampire’s discretion, but Ruth wasn’t geared that way.
Long and short, she put all of it away. Whether intended or not, Marcellus had given her an instruction that relieved her of the burden of it, because Merc didn’t seem inclined to initiate the discussion.
To counter her frustration with his elusiveness—an entirely different issue—in her off time, she hung out with Clara, Charlie and other females. Usually in Charlie’s tent, a female haven where the furniture was mostly cushions, which could be moved around to accommodate the racks of costumes and her sewing tables. They played dress-up, painted toenails and exchanged fashion tips.
Tonight was special, however. When Ruth arrived, her hair had been in the tight knot she employed to keep it out of her way for her job. Charlie had immediately taken it down and started working on Ruth’s look for the evening.
It was the Circus’s “Play Night.”
Since last night had been the final performance in Alabama, they’d shut down the Circus and moved it back into the in-between portal location, with even more speed and efficiency than usual. Everyone liked Play Night.
Charlie braided Ruth’s hair, threading it with ribbons and flowers. She’d done a lot of that this week, because the Circus had performed with a Renaissance Faire theme, flavored with medieval legends and lore. The audience had roared its approval of the dramatic George and the Dragon fight in the center ring. Fortunately, the combatants finished on a respectful bow with one another, rather than the dragon being skewered, or George being eaten.
Caleb had played George, having the strength to handle the grappling moments with Tragar, and the unexpected speed and grace to avoid the strike of the lethal tail or grasp of a taloned claw. So impressive was their coordination, Caleb appeared as if he were barely escaping those dire fates.