Night's Templar: A Vampire Queen Novel (Vampire Queen Series Book 13) (4 page)

People, vampires, Fae…they could all become something different and unexpected when needed, couldn’t they? 

If he was thinking of Council business, his meal had achieved the desired effect, restoring his control. He gazed down at Mariela, enjoying the view, fondling her white thighs as he collected his thoughts. Perhaps he’d been hungrier than he expected, suggesting he needed to start feeding more often. Another voice interrupted his sudden tension.

A missive is coming. Are you ready to sever all ties, if that is what God demands? Go beyond the things you know, back to that which you once knew…

This voice was filled with God’s purpose, no serpent’s smoothness. The gravelly throat had been burned by the heat of the desert and the stress of God’s might. Uthe always respected that voice, prayed for its owner, but that message, with only slightly different words, had come to him repeatedly over the decades. Right on cue, the seductive voice came in right behind it to mock.

Like Armageddon, Madman. Everyone is sure of its coming, but does not even your own revered text say no one will know the time? Stop your raving. You’re giving me a headache and making me wish for the End of Days in truth.

That voice might personify evil, but he had wit. Uthe shook his head, offering a respectful prayer to the bearer of the first voice before he attended to his present task. He’d learned to not be distracted by those voices, though it had taken several decades to learn the way of it so he didn’t appear like a madman himself. Vampires couldn’t afford to appear weak in mind or body.

He staved off his worries about that, about the missive never coming, about a whole basket of things he couldn’t control.
Trust in God’s will. And celebrate the beauty of His creation, spread before you now.

Mariela arched into his touch as he leaned forward, placed his lips on her sweet cunt and tasted the honey there. He’d read her desires from her mind and body, and take her to the pinnacle he wanted to see her reach. Whenever his heart was raw or his mind uneasy, immersing himself in giving rather than taking restored them. He could spend a sleepless day in a prayer vigil, work out a Council problem…or give his servant mindless pleasure.

As Mariela began to writhe under his ministrations, he clamped his hands around her thighs, holding her still, driving her ever higher by denying her a climax until she couldn’t hold back her begging cries. Sometimes giving could be a sharply sweet taking.

Come for your Master, Mariela.

She obeyed with vigor, her lovely nipples tight and dark rose, her stomach and thighs taut with her response, her sex suddenly dewed with moisture within and without. He brought her down with gentle licks, a few nips that had her shuddering. A whisper of a smile crossed her pale pink lips at his teasing. Her hand moved toward him, but he closed his around her wrist, kissing her palm before she could touch his head as Keldwyn had done. 

Rising over her, he stripped off his clothes. He could have resolved the issue with his hand at this point, but bringing her to climax wasn’t what gave an InhServ true contentment.

Taking a seat on the bed, he directed her to her knees on the floor between his feet. 
Service your Master, Mariela. Bring him ease.

He closed his eyes as Mariela’s soft hands slid up his thighs, her mouth closing on the head of his cock. As he moved his grip to her hair, he tried not to think of dark tresses or a male’s firm mouth sucking him the way she was doing it now, but he knew some fantasizing was necessary to reach climax. It wasn’t essential to think of that particular male, but his mind was giving him no choice. He supposed that was fine. There was no universe other than the one in his imagination where a Fae would kneel at his feet and suck his cock. He envisioned Keldwyn’s reaction to the fantasy. All that fine black hair would stand on end, wouldn’t it? What would Kel’s retribution be for such an outrageous insult?

His cock got harder, his fingers constricting on Mariela. She made a noise of encouragement in her throat, her clever mouth driving him even higher.

What was the Fae’s end game with Uthe? There was no end game. There never was with the Fae. It was all about the game itself. Uthe should be far beyond such games.

Mariela nipped him and he let out a breath. “You seek punishment.”

He would give it to her, because he never left her aching or wanting. It was an attempt to make up for all the things he couldn’t give her. Like his body inside her, his seed. It had been some time since he’d actually joined with another. 

Damn Keldwyn for making him miss that. Damn Fae.

E
vil cannot be destroyed
. It will always resurface, a root that runs deep beneath the earth. Even if you kill the plant, it will sprout elsewhere. Whereas Good is like the plucked flower. There are endless flowers, yes, but so fragile, so temporal. Why do you think He made it that way? Why do you think your religions exhort you not to ask why? Never question, only serve…

A bouquet of flowers. She’d plucked them from around the front door, as far as her chains would allow her to reach. She’d been thinking…what had she been thinking? That she wanted to summon something of who she’d been. An appreciation for beauty might balance the horror that had happened to her. As she sat at the table, watching the flowers, her hand on her swelling belly, Uthe could feel the pressure of her hand. Through the cushion of her nourishment, the liquid of her womb, he tried to put his hand up, touch hers.

Flowers, scattered over a table. Washed with blood. 

Uthe surfaced, the wooden dagger beneath his pillow tight in his grip. The candle had just stuttered out, for he could still smell the smoke, the faint scent of the wax. It was sundown. 

My lord? You are well?

Mariela was kneeling on the floor, for she started his night the same way she ended it. There was a touch of concern to her mind-voice.

“Of course.” He put his feet on the floor, scrubbed a hand over his face and gave her an absent smile. “Go see to your household duties, Mariela. Tonight will be busy for all of us. I will meet you in Council chambers. They are requiring the presence of our servants to discuss the arrival of Queen Rhoswen.”

Had that been part of what had driven Keldwyn’s own thrumming energy to such an edge yesterday? Knowing that tonight the Unseelie Queen was coming to the human world for the very first time in years?

Those in her entourage would be the oldest and strongest of the Fae, for politics and appearance. Though younger Fae were quickly drained of energy by too much concrete, iron and other trappings of the human world, the Council’s headquarters outside Savannah had plenty of undeveloped woodland and marsh property. Nearly a thousand acres of it cushioned the mansion, the driveway a winding mile from the closest rural road. The surrounding forest contained a portal between the Fae world and the human one, so that was where the receiving ceremony would be. There’d be a short honorary meeting in the Council chamber, followed by a soiree in the grand ballroom. A few carefully chosen vampires, beyond Council members and their servants, would attend. 

The current Queen of the Unseelie Fae was Lyssa’s half-sister, so the sisters would take some private time together after that before the Fae Queen returned to her world.

There was no official business planned for this visit, but it was an important one. Lyssa had indicated a planned lack of controversy and her familial connection with the Queen were no guarantee things couldn’t go to hell in a blink. The Fae had done their best to murder Lyssa’s vampire mother after Rhoswen’s Fae father impregnated her. He’d been turned into a rose bush and banished into a wasteland for fraternizing with their species. Though that had been over a thousand years ago, relations between the Fae and vampire had advanced very little until recently.

As one of the humans might say, today would require everyone’s “A-game.”

Given that, Uthe decided to start the evening with a short but intense workout. Since their hierarchical world was unapologetically built on the idea that might made right, all vampires set aside time to keep battle skills sharp. Normally he might have engaged Lord Belizar for a sparring match, because the two were well matched in weight, height and weapons use, but he wasn’t ready to be around any other members of Council after that disturbing dream. Plus, Belizar would want to dissect the latest Council decisions in his gruff, heavy-handed way, and Uthe wasn’t in the mood for that.

Opening his chest, Uthe chose the sword he’d carried centuries ago. He needed the closer connection to his past tonight.

The marsh side of the house had a quiet courtyard with enough space for sparring maneuvers. When he was relieved not to meet anyone along the way who would engage him in conversation, he realized how much he needed the exertion to steady his mind. There were more second mark servants on the grounds right now, but though they offered him a respectful nod and bow as he passed, they would not speak unless he engaged them. From their harried expressions and quick steps, they were occupied with preparing the estate to Lady Lyssa’s specifications. All surfaces gleamed with cleanliness, and fresh flowers were arranged. No risk of offending the Fae Queen was too small to be overlooked. 

“If you think I am easily insulted, you have not met my sister.” Uthe had overheard Lyssa say that to the small army of servants she’d addressed earlier in the week. She’d then turned them over for more detailed instructions to Jacob, her own servant, and Elijah Ingram, a second mark who had majordomo responsibilities for all her properties.

Uthe smiled a little. Lady Lyssa had always had a dry sense of humor, but it had become a little easier of late. Much of that had to do with her relationship with Jacob, and the birth of their son, Kane. Uthe could not deny it. Vampires and servants. He thought again of Mason’s proposed policy, but today other things would take priority, which suited him fine. Complex problems needed time and study to determine the most sensible decision, not the most politic one.

Once he reached the courtyard, he started as he always did, on one knee, offering a quick prayer for his training to serve the Lord’s purpose. Then he launched into the exercises. After so many years, he had no problem imagining his opponent’s possible strikes and going through the stances. The blades were old-fashioned weapons, but training and a vampire’s speed and strength made them formidable still. The swords the Crusaders had brought initially from France were not as well-tempered and balanced as Saracen blades, but the knights had learned from their metalworking skills. Though he could have upgraded to even more modern versions of those now, Uthe practiced with these blades for different reasons—to remind him of his purpose, who he was.

He pushed himself, but never lost an awareness of his immediate surroundings, because a vampire who did that didn’t live long. Hearing the whisper of air over a weapon not his own, he spun, and his sword met the edge of Daegan Rei’s katana. The chime of the two blades echoed as he held the stance. Daegan did the same, a warrior’s greeting he reinforced with an approving look. Uthe knew the Council’s enforcer was lethal and near invincible with that Japanese weapon, so he’d measured his stroke to match Uthe’s. He didn’t take it as an insult, but as a sign of respect.

Daegan let his blade slide free and backed up a step, though he kept a sparring position. “May I help you with your workout, my lord?” he asked. 

Uthe’s vampire senses told him that Gideon, Daegan’s third mark, was with him. The muscular, sharp-eyed male shifted into his peripheral vision, confirming it. Anwyn, the other vampire of their threesome, was not, but both males bore her fragrant scent, suggesting they’d left her bed only recently. Since she was still a fledgling, she would stay below ground until full dark around nine p.m., but Uthe was certain one or both males was monitoring her wellbeing. Gideon could do it with his third mark connection to her, whereas Daegan could use the blood link he’d chosen to have with her, or the access that the two of them sharing Gideon gave him.

Even at the Savannah estate, one of the safest locales against outside attack, they wouldn’t relax their vigilance. Vampires rarely trusted one another fully, but in addition to that, Gideon was a former vampire hunter, and Daegan was the Council’s executioner for vampires who’d overstepped their laws one too many time. Alertness was a more comfortable state for both of them. Plus, there was very little they valued as much as the lovely sable-haired woman who’d been forcibly turned by a rogue vampire. 

Anwyn had been and still was owner of Club Atlantis, a BDSM establishment in Atlanta. When the Mistress became a vampire, her Dominant streak had simply been enhanced, but she and Daegan did not share Gideon as equals. There was no such thing as equal partners in the vampire world. One was always top. In their case, there was no question it was Daegan. Out of all the vampires in their world who could challenge Lyssa’s strength, Daegan would have been one of them, with Mason following a close second. Fortunately, both were loyal to her, as was Uthe. She deserved their loyalty on every level. It also didn’t hurt that Jacob, Lyssa’s servant, was Gideon’s brother. Two former vampire hunters serving as servants, one to the head of the Vampire Council, and the other to their assassin. The world was an unpredictable place.

He brought his mind back to Daegan’s offer to spar. “I fear this old vampire would be a poor match for your skills, Lord Daegan.”

“Then I will be happy to improve yours to ensure you stay ahead of danger, my lord. Your counsel is worth ten vampires with my fighting skills.”

“Well spoken.” Uthe signaled his intent, and re-engaged. He didn’t try to challenge Daegan’s far greater skill; he merely worked on his own and let the male adjust as needed to push him a little harder, a little further. Blessed Virgin, they should have the male train all their vampires to fight.

It was difficult not to get distracted by the smooth, deadly grace of his opponent. Daegan was tall and compact, every muscle honed in the service of his assigned role. He’d worn his hair almost as short as Uthe’s for some time, but since Anwyn had become a vampire, he’d let it grow so it feathered across his brow and had some silky thickness to the short layers. Uthe thought of Keldwyn’s hair tangling in his hands, and how much he liked its length. He almost missed Daegan’s next counter, and increased his speed and deftness to catch back up.