She nodded, propped her chin on his shoulder. "If I could choose any life, I would choose to be a creature in the forest. Moving through each day as part of what goes on there. Nothing earth shattering, nothing more dramatic than the daily search for food and survival."
"I think you would miss having your hair brushed, my lady. Your hour-long baths."
He caught her wrist in his uninjured hand as she tugged his hair, hard.
"Your resolve to be respectful didn't last very long. You delight in teasing me."
"I like your smile, my lady. Your laughter."
"Hmm. You remember at the fountain?" She tucked her head under his chin, laid her arm across his chest as he gathered her to him, held her against his side.
"Yes."
"Carnal was right about that one thing. It was unwise to unleash compulsion that strong where any supernatural being would have felt it, but I looked around at all of them, and thought—why can't you feel it? When you see the fountains in that mall, you know someone felt it and was striving to make a connection to a natural world mortals abandoned so long ago. I wanted to give them that moment, that taste of memory. Do you remember how they responded, Jacob? The way they all splashed in, suddenly not worrying about anything except dancing in the flow of the water, celebrating the life of it?"
"I remember." He remembered how she'd laughed and watched them all, the feel of her hands caressing his neck. Turning, he tugged her to lie face-to-face with him, curling her hand in his, forming a link between them. "I've led a very different life, my lady. At the end of it, I would like to know I've lived it fully. And I need you to know I understand that has nothing to do with time. You're my goal. Without you, I won't have a purpose. If there's anything I can do to help you live to see forever, I will. But if you die, I want to follow you."
A shadow crossed her gaze. Before she could open her mouth, he slid his arms around her back, ignored the pain to bring her close to him again, tuck her head back down against his chest. "You don't need to say anything. I just wanted you to know. I was wrong, what I did tonight. I'll do better at trying to .understand what it means to serve you, but there are things I won't give up on. You're one of them, even if you order me to do so."
There was a long silence, where he sensed things he didn't understand affecting her above and beyond his words. "You are a pain in my ass," she said.
"It doesn't seem to have affected it adversely, my lady. I'm quite fond of looking at it." He brushed his hand over it. Not a sexual demand, just enjoying the feel of the soft curve and wanting her to know she had his desire. As well as everything else.
"Impertinent knight."
He nodded against her skull. He knew it was time to let her sleep, but he wanted to say one more thing, let her take it into her dreams.
"If it had been me, and I knew I was losing my mind, I would have taken my life before ever causing you pain, my lady. Should I have hurt you even once before I realized I was capable of doing so, I wouldn't have allowed myself to live to see the next sunset."
"Yes, you would have," she said. "For I would never allow you to leave me like that. God help you."
Before he could respond to that startling statement, her even breath told him she'd succumbed to the dawn. While he had much to think about, the drain of the night had taken its toll. He surrendered to it, following her into dreams, hoping he could defend her there better than he'd done this night.
* * *
Chapter Twenty-five
The chandelier lights lowered to a dim setting supplemented the candlelight throughout the dining room. Flatware and crystal shone softly, providing a sense of intimate warmth. Instead of a candelabra or candleholders as a center piece, he'd used an old breadboard, the wood cracked and the color of deep chestnut. He'd formed a pyramid of pillar candles upon it in deep burgundy, rose and pink hues. As they burned, their wax ran down the sides of the pyramid, forming twining designs of the colors and blending in pools within the cupped sides of the board.
The catering staff was quiet and efficient. Her guests had been pleased with the artful display of the salad in the plates chosen, the tiny bouquets he'd put at each place setting. Lyssa noticed she had a slightly larger bouquet, a more delicate arrangement of flowers. He'd also cut several of her garden roses and inserted them. The whole thing was tied with a trailing ribbon arranged in a swirl across her plate until the first course was brought. Since the catering company was operated by one of the vampires in her Region, there was nothing they would see or hear tonight that would alarm them. They did not blink as they came to collect the salads from which only a mouthful or two had been consumed, to return with soups that would be barely touched.
But watching the way her guests inhaled the fragrances and took the one or two tastes they could, absorbing the beauty and smell of the food, Lyssa thought vampires actually enjoyed the food more than a human would if it had been placed before him. After all, while she preferred her blood in certain ways, it had a functional quality that couldn't be overlooked.
However, as her gaze flicked to Jacob, she admitted she did sometimes appreciate the way her blood was presented. She'd always chosen her food carefully. Perhaps that was part of what had rankled her at first, Thomas choosing for her. But he'd left the final decision to her, and of course Jacob was turning out in just a short time to be many intriguing things. Functional as well as something to savor.
When he moved to take up his position behind her chair, his attentiveness warmed her back, the nape of her neck. The flow of his thoughts was like mulled wine slipping down her throat. She kept her awareness of it to a quiet murmur while she focused her attention on her guests. It was like the comforting but blurred sound of someone else's voice in the house when one didn't want to feel entirely alone.
Tara Beauchamps and Richard Carlyle, the overlords of the Alabama territory, were both made vampires, but fortunately with more sturdy constitutions than many of the made vampires she'd met. Though she'd changed her name, Tara had been born and made in the Middle East. Part of a Bedouin tribe, she'd gotten separated from them during a sandstorm and found a cavern inhabited by a solitary vampire. Mason had turned her out of loneliness, groomed her, and then brought her into the world for a few years. When he tired of vampire politics and again returned to his caves, he gave Tara freedom from his side. Having been part of a world where she'd had no rights, no value at all except as it was denned by others, treated little better than a pack mule, she was highly cognizant of accumulating power and influence and was accomplished at both with her exotic looks. Dark almond eyes, straight dark hair, eyebrows like slips of silk, and features refined by her vampirism to mesmerizing.
Mason had shown little interest in Tara since he'd let her go, or she in him. Perhaps he sensed it would take centuries to exorcise Tara's fear of being inconsequential again, enough to let her discover the potential depth of character she had. Lyssa was inclined to agree, but she'd seen other, lesser miracles occur. She also liked Tara's wit and sharp mind, even if her ambition required a close eye.
Lyssa still hadn't decided if her pairing with Richard was a fortunate turn of events or not. He seemed compatible with her, unexpectedly. Richard had an austere formality about him, tempered with a dry humor and keen intellect. With a good command of diplomacy while always looking for opportunity, he was a master politician and likely would rise to Council in time. All vampires were blessed with good looks, but his were particularly appealing in their uniqueness, because he was made in his forties. Therefore he had handsome silver threading in his chestnut hair to compliment his gray eyes, as well as the interesting character that lines of age created around them.
Tara and Richard had been together a handful of decades. Most vampires did not marry. If it was difficult enough to make a human marriage work over forty or so years, it was nigh impossible for vampires. Younger, made vampires sometimes married under human law out of nostalgic sentiment despite having to deal with the difficulties of eradicating the paper trail. After all, one couldn't get divorced at a hundred and twenty years old and not raise some eyebrows. Older vampires who married did so under vampire law, which was more like a civil ceremony with no spirituality to it. She and Rex had been a political match. The bond of any vampire marriage could be dissolved by appeal to the Vampire Council. Another attempt to appear civilized. She supposed she and Rex had adhered to more of the human ideal, in a macabre fashion. Until death do us part…
No illusions of great love there, but there was a fondness between Tara and Richard, and they ran their territory very well. As long as Lyssa made her expectations clear, they followed her mandates. Occasionally they did indulge in some excesses, but that was simply the nature of the vampire. A driving, primal lust to exercise their power, to enjoy its many fruits, sensual or painful.
They were typical of the middle echelon vampire hierarchy. Usually smart enough to know when to choose wisdom over blood lust, and that making fair decisions was in their best interest as long as they were in Lyssa's Region. Another decade and it might even come naturally to them. They might enjoy being wise instead of brutal leaders and recognize the respect and devotion it could earn them. Another advantage of immortality. To the intelligent, open-minded vampire, there was usually time to change.