Then, when she went to her knees, he wanted to tell the Council they could go straight to hell. He and Niall were keeping her. But of course the world didn’t work that way.
For this moment, though, the world could be what he wanted it to be. He savored the sight of the two of them together. He expected she was the one who’d talked Niall into taking off the shirt and plaid, so he wore just the kilt, letting her lean against his bare chest, trace his dragon and the third mark beneath. Niall could wear a suit handsomely, but Evan had always preferred him in the kilt. Niall eschewed a tartan, preferring the solid black or gray. Given that he’d been one of the broken men who lived on clan land, but was not of that clan’s blood, and the fact that his landlord and clan chief had sacrificed him on a battlefield, Evan understood it. Yet he wore Evan’s dragon tattoos . . . and Evan’s mark.
Even after all these centuries, Evan carried a great deal of his father’s religious practicality. Judaism was a thinking man’s religion, all said and done, and the idea of a vampire and servant being bound in the afterlife had seemed illogical to him. For the first time he understood, whether it was truth or not, that notion had probably been born from fervent wishful thinking, by vampires who felt for their servants as he did.
Straightening from the door, he went to them. Alanna’s gaze immediately turned from the window. She didn’t move, however. She wouldn’t disturb Niall’s rest, but more than that, she was braced for the news, her pale face and sad, shorn head making his heart tighten. She’d known they wouldn’t choose him, that there was no possible way in the hierarchical world of the vampires that would be acceptable. But he hated that she’d hoped enough to look so crushed now by the inevitable news.
When he squatted to his heels so they were eye to eye, she swallowed. Firmed her chin and lifted it. “I love you, Master,” she said quietly.
Reaching out, he traced her thin, ravaged face. Once fed and healthy, her hair grown out, she would be beautiful again, in the way that all men appreciated, but he agreed with Niall. Her bravery, resolve and sheer character would never make her anything less than mesmerizing to him.
“That’s good. Because you’re going to be with me a very, very long time.”
Her gasped cry woke Niall, such that he almost toppled her, coming out of it ready to fight. Evan caught hold of him and Alanna to steady them both, but as he held them there in the chair, he was gripped by a sheer ebullience that was entirely unvampirelike. Fortunately, Alanna saved him from acting upon it, because she flung her arms around him. Her joyous embrace told Niall what had happened, and now the Scot’s grin brought warmth and light to every corner of the room. He gripped Evan’s shoulder, but Evan saw a different knowledge in the man’s eyes. A tightness rose into Evan’s throat as he heard Niall’s private thought to himself.
He won’t be alone. He’ll have her.
When Alanna pulled back, Niall tugged her hair, teasing her, even as the three of them kept that connection, arms tangled, hips touching. Evan had dropped to one knee to keep Niall settled and to prevent Alanna from being dumped on the floor, so his braced foot was between Niall’s splayed ones.
“So,” the Scot observed. “I have a lot to do. I have tae teach ye to be more insolent, so Evan will not get spoiled by your excessive subservience. And then I’ll have to teach him how to give ye a proper strapping, because he’s far too soft-handed about it.”
She had a response for that, one that made Niall laugh, but Evan didn’t hear it. He was poised on a precipice, one where his pleasure in their reaction could easily be turned to a cold weight, given the other news he had, but he wasn’t of a mind to wait on the blow, if it was going to come.
“Actually, you might be around to do those beatings yourself for a while, if you’re up for it.”
Alanna stopped in midsentence, her attention snapping to Evan. Niall seemed unperturbed, but lifted a brow. “What, Brian’s cooked up a way to keep me around longer? Some foul potion where I have to endure ye another decade or two?”
“Worse. I requested the right to turn you, Niall. And Council agreed.”
24
WHEN Niall and Alanna departed, Lady Lyssa had turned her infamous ball-shrinking gaze upon him. “Now, to the other matter. Evan has submitted a request. He wishes to turn Niall, his servant.”
A ripple of response passed through the assembled Council members, none immediately positive. Lady Carola shook her head outright. “We have very firm rules about turning servants . . .”
As the Councilwoman glanced toward Lyssa, Jacob standing behind her, her voice drifted off. “Except under extraordinary circumstances . . . ”
Everyone knew that Lyssa had turned Jacob to save his life, against Council decree, a situation that had made her a fugitive for a short time. That process had been miraculously reversed when she visited the Fae world, but having a Council head who’d defied the most important tenets about vampires and servants made such absolutes problematic. It was something Evan was counting upon.
“Yes, that’s true,” Lady Lyssa said serenely. “Given that Lord Uthe is Evan’s sire, he has unique insight into this matter and would like to discuss extenuating circumstances.”
That was unexpected, though definitely not unwelcome. The enigmatic born vampire who’d been a Templar Knight had always dealt fairly with Evan. He met Evan’s gaze now, making Evan recall their meeting all those years ago. The vampire sitting by his deathbed in the middle of the night, the preternatural gaze studying him, the stillness of the powerful body. Evan had been so far gone then, all he’d wondered about the stranger was whether he could talk him into drawing one of his very sharp daggers and ending the agonizing pain of his existence. But he’d so fiercely wanted another option, imagining all the things he’d never get to paint.
Uthe had provided that other option. He’d told Evan what he had to offer, but he’d had very specific conditions. You cannot accept due to fear of death. Turning a human to a vampire requires far better reasons than that. For many of us, there is a calling that supersedes everything else material about ourselves. Gaze into your soul, boy, and tell me if you have it.
Evan gave his sire a bow. “I hold your counsel far above my own, my lord.”
The eyes of the Fae Lord standing behind Uthe flickered, making Evan think he’d said something of interest to Keldwyn. Like Alanna, he’d noted the connection between him and Uthe. Later, he might take advantage of his connection with his sire to find out more. See if he couldn’t presume on their relationship to get the unlikely chance to visit the Fae world, a place with limitless wonders to put on canvas.
Bloody eejit. Of all the things ye should be focusing on right now . . . Though Niall wasn’t speaking in his head, Evan could well imagine the Scot sternly doing so now. But the random thought actually helped him channel the tension away from his body, keep his expression calm, intent. Ironically it also kept him more focused on the one vital priority he had at this moment.
Lord Uthe inclined his head. “As you know, the tithe we take from the proceeds of Evan’s artwork has accumulated into a not-insignificant-sum over the years. Beyond that, his successes have prompted us to encourage an artistic culture among our ranks, expanding our focus beyond survival and politics.”
Lord Keldwyn had moved, though Evan hadn’t seen it. Remarkable, given that he’d been in Evan’s direct line of sight. The Fae was now in the back corner of the room, sitting on the ledge of a fountain. The fountain was graced by a sculpture of a kelpie, the seaweed-covered horse rearing, water pouring from his nostrils to the pool below.
“Many humans have his pieces in their homes. Thanks to Lord Keldwyn’s interest, recently they’ve even caught the interest of the Fae world. Evan’s contributions have created an unexpected bond and value between three worlds.”
So maybe a trip to the Fae world wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. Evan shoved the thought away, imagining Niall giving him one of his patented severe looks. Yes, his art was a driving force in his life. But there was something far more important. Two somethings, in fact.
“Evan’s value is noted,” Lord Stewart said. “But does it bear weight on whether his servant would be an appropriate addition to our made vampires? As Stephen proved, quite tragically, we must make those decisions quite carefully, to avoid past mistakes.”
“It does bear weight on the decision.” Lord Uthe nodded. “Evan’s talent is of great value to us, but because of the wasting disease he had as a human, his strength as a vampire not only grows slowly, it grows more slowly as he ages, suggesting it will eventually plateau. Lord Brian is fairly certain of this.”
The glances at him gave him the familiar feeling of inadequacy, particularly before such a powerful assembly. Yet Evan bit back his usual rancor at the analysis of his strengths . . . or lack thereof. For the first time in his life, it might prove to his benefit.
“Niall is an exceptionally strong third mark,” Uthe continued. “If you recall, one of the reasons we have had concerns about turning a fully marked servant is that, in the instances it has occurred, the fledgling has accelerated qualities in strength, speed . . . things that could put him further up the hierarchy than the usual time and maturity allow.”
“He is not being turned in his youth,” Helga said thoughtfully. “He has been among us three centuries, has had time to mature past such issues.”
“You simply have a fondness for Scots,” Lord Stewart said without rancor. Helga beamed.
“My Torrence is a fine servant. I think my bias is based on sound knowledge.”
The male vampire chuckled. Lady Lyssa sat back in her chair. “We’re entrusting a valuable InhServ to Evan, and Niall would be a good companion and protector for them both. If he is willing.”
Her gaze shifted back to Evan. “As you know, no human can be turned to vampire without consent. Do you think he would be amenable?”
“I have not proposed it to him, my lady. I wanted to seek Council approval first. But rest assured, the choice will be his.”