She was late. Late, Goddess damn it! What in the Seven Hells was wrong with her? She’d had hours to complete the few simple errands he’d given her and where was she?
Maybe you shouldn’t have set her lose on the Mother Ship with no one to guide her when she’s never been here before, whispered the voice of guilt in his head. Are you sure she’s all right? What if something’s happened to her? Something could, you know—people can die at any time for no outward reason. You know that.
Yes, he knew it from bitter personal experience but he refused to dwell on it now.
Irritably, Sazar pushed his guilt and worry away. The Mother Ship was a big place but it was also a safe place, even for a female alone. Sarah would be all right. He was almost sure of it.
If she’s all right then why is she late? Where is she? Why hasn’t she used the Think-me and bespoken you yet? the voice in his head demanded. Damn it, why wouldn’t the fucking thing just shut up?
He supposed he could use a Think-me himself and call her but he’d given her his only one and he would have to go find another. Maybe he should do that? Then again, why was he so worried about her? She was only a little human assistant—he shouldn’t be getting so worked up—should he?
The Blood Hunger gnawed at Sazar, making everything worse. His head throbbed and his fangs ached. His throat felt as dry as a Karnethian desert.
Gods, what if something had happened to her? What if she’d fallen on the tram tracks and been run over? Or what if she’d wandered into the Unmated Males area by accident—now there was a pleasant thought. As safe as most of the Mother Ship was, the Unmated Males section was the definite exception to that rule. If she’d somehow gotten in there…
He started up from his chair to go get a Think-me when a sudden rapping at the front door of his suite interrupted his guilty, worried thoughts. Sazar’s big hands clenched into fists.
“Come!” he called harshly, his voice coming out strained and dry.
The door slid open, revealing a flushed and panting Sarah. She had a bag over her arm and something wrapped in a wad of tissues clutched in her hand.
“I’m so sorry, Commander Sazar,” she exclaimed. “I know I’m late. I—”
“Where were you?” Before he could stop himself, Sazar was across the room in front of her. He took her by the shoulders and shook her once, hard.
The plain, round framed glasses she wore fell off and hit the floor with a flat crack and her hair, which was coming loose from its bun at the nape of her neck, tumbled down in a profusion of silky brown waves.
“I…I’m sorry,” she gasped, looking up at him. “I didn’t mean—”
“I was worried about you,” Sazar heard himself admitting. Although he didn’t know why he should be. He hadn’t even known the little human for twenty-four Earth hours yet but already the idea of losing her—of her being hurt or injured in any way—made his protective instincts rise.
“I’m sorry,” she said for the third time. “I just…lost track of time when I was playing with your son. And then I got on the wrong tram trying to get back to this level. But I never thought—”
“No, you didn’t think, did you?” Sazar forced himself to let her go and take a step back.
The Blood Hunger was too close to the surface and this little human was entirely too appealing. He could still remember the one sweet taste of her blood he’d gotten when he healed her. It made him ache to sink his fangs into her vulnerable throat but he restrained himself sternly.
“Why didn’t you use the Think-me to call and let me know you were all right?” he demanded.
Her cheeks flushed. Without the round lenses her eyes were big and starry, fringed thickly with dark lashes. They were more green than brown, Sazar decided—the color of a quiet forest pool, reflecting the leaves of the trees overhead.
“I should have used the, uh, Think-me,” she admitted quietly. “To be honest, I forgot all about it. And…I didn’t think you’d be so worried about me. Isn’t the Mother Ship safe?”
“It is,” Sazar admitted grudgingly. “Except for the Unmated Males section. You should never go there without the scent of a male on you to protect you.”
“Uh…okay.”
Clearly she didn’t understand. To be honest, Sazar didn’t understand himself. Why was he getting so worked up about his new assistant? He’d had five or six assistants since moving from Tranq Prime to take this position aboard the Mother Ship. He hadn’t worried about any of them—other than the fact that taking blood from them was a problem. So why was he so worried about Sarah?
He took another step back and the heel of his boot crunched on something. Looking down, he lifted his foot and saw the mangled metal frames of the round glasses she always wore.
“Goddess damn it!” he swore, bending to retrieve them.
“Oh!” Sarah took them from his hands, looking with an unreadable expression on her face at the twisted wire and broken glass.
“Forgive me,” Sazar growled. “I’ll have these replaced at once, of course. Or if you’d rather, I believe there is a Tolleg surgeon onboard who can fit you with permanent lenses that will correct your eyesight.”
“No, no…that’s okay. I…” She cleared her throat and her creamy cheeks got a shade darker. “I don’t really need them. So you don’t have to replace them.”
“Don’t need them?” Sazar exclaimed. “Then why would you wear them?”
“I…” She looked up, her eyes huge and uncertain. “I have something for you. Here—look.”
It was obvious she was changing the subject and Sazar wondered what was going on with her. Why would any female wear oculars she didn’t need? Was it some kind of a fashion statement? But she actually looked better without the round lenses. In fact, with her thick brown hair down and her large, dark eyes naked without the glasses, she looked…
Beautiful. In fact, she’s Goddess-damned gorgeous. Why didn’t I see that before?
He pushed the thought away quickly—it was unprofessional to be thinking that way about his new assistant. Instead, he concentrated on what she was holding out to him—which appeared to be a wad of paper tissues.
“What—” he began.
“It’s a vranna. At least I think that’s what Tsandor called it.” She unfolded the tissues carefully, as though they held an incredibly valuable treasure. Inside was a lumpy figure made of teal and purple clay which had dried.
Sazar felt guilt pierce him like a knife.
“Yes,” he said dryly. “A vranna. It’s a large carnivorous beast from our home planet of Tranq Prime.”
“He wanted you to have it.” Sarah held the clay figure out to him but Sazar didn’t take it. “He…I think he misses you,” she said in a low voice.
Guilt turned to anger—a fury as icy as the depths of a Tranq Prime winter.
“I sent you to bring the boy some clothing, not to meddle in my personal affairs.”
Sarah blanched but then a determined light came into her eyes and she lifted her chin.
“Commander Sazar, he’s lonely. If you would go see him just once before we leave—”
“I told you, my personal life is none of your business!” His voice rose to a roar and Sarah flinched back, one arm half raised as though she expected a blow.
Her protective stance made Sazar hate himself all the more. Gods, had it come to that? Did she fear him as she feared the abusive past she’d run away from? What was wrong with him?
He turned away from her abruptly, unable to face the fear on her lovely features. Fear that he had put there. The Blood Hunger clawed at his throat, making his voice come out husky and strained.
“Go to your quarters. You have the suite right beside mine. Simply press your palm to the metal pad outside and the door will admit you.”
“All…all right.” Her voice was quiet and shaken. He’d really frightened her, hadn’t he? Gods, he was a monster.
He didn’t watch her go. He kept his back turned as he listened to her cross the floor and the door to his suite swooshed shut behind her. Only when he was certain she was gone did Sazar turn around and see that she’d left him something.
Lying on the arm of the chair, still half wrapped in the protective tissues, was the lumpy clay figure of the vranna.
Sazar took it gently in his big hand and collapsed into the chair. He wanted to weep but his eyes were dry.
The ache was too deep for tears.
* * * * *
Oh God, what have I done? He hates me now—he’s going to fire me. What am I going to do?
Sarah paced back and forth on the plush carpet of the guest suite she’d been assigned. Had she just lost her job—the only thing that was keeping her safe, keeping her on the Mother Ship instead of down on Earth where the Brotherhood could find her?
What’s wrong with me? Why didn’t I keep my mouth shut?
But she knew why—she couldn’t stand by and be silent when she’d seen Tsandor’s pain and longing for his father. Why didn’t Sazar go to him?
Because he’s in pain too.
The voice seemed to come from outside herself somehow, though Sarah heard it in her mind. She looked around the room but she was alone.
Must be hearing things. But it made her think. Kindred were said to be devoted to their mates so Commander Sazar must be as broken as his son, though it was clear he tried to hide his wounds as much as he could.
It’s a sensitive subject and I put my foot right in it, Sarah thought ruefully. He didn’t need a lecture from me. He needs…
She paused. What did he need?
A picture popped into her head—a memory from when she was only nine or ten, well before her mother had gotten involved in The Brotherhood and dragged Sarah into a life she’d never wanted.
Her father, coming home from work in an awful temper. It was something to do with his supervisor—Sarah wasn’t sure what. She only remembered being frightened by the way he shouted and slammed things around. Her mother had found her later, crying in her room and had comforted her.
“Don’t you worry, sweetpea,” she’d said, wiping Sarah’s eyes with a tissue. “Your daddy isn’t mad at you or me. He just had a bad day and he missed lunch—he’s hungry. Most men get grouchy when they need to eat, that’s all.”
Sarah stopped pacing, her eyes wide. In her mind’s eye, she saw Commander Sazar, his eyes blazing. There were dark shadows around those pale eyes and a strained look on his face. His high cheekbones stood out starkly and his chiseled features looked too sharp—too prominent somehow. It was the haggard look of a man who hasn’t gotten enough nourishment for days—possibly weeks.
He’s hungry, Sarah realized. Or in this case, thirsty!
She took a deep breath and smoothed her hair. All right, she shouldn’t be surprised. After all, her new boss was a vampire—well, a Pitch-Blood Kindred, which amounted to the same thing. Just because he could go out in daylight and wasn’t allergic to garlic (that she knew of) didn’t change the fact that he needed blood to survive.
The contract she’d signed had been very specific in spelling out how much blood he could take from her (not much) and how often he could take it (not more than once a week.) Sazar had also informed her that he would let her know where and when he wanted to drink from her and he hadn’t said anything to her yet. If he was in dire need of blood, why not just tell her?
Maybe because of the way his past assistants reacted, Sarah thought. She remembered the disgusted, incredulous look on the blonde applicant’s face after her interview earlier that day.
“He wanted to bite me—can you believe that? He actually wanted to bite me! Whose going to take a position where one of the job requirements is getting bitten?”
Me, thought Sarah grimly. I took the job and I was lucky to get it. It saved me from the Controllers of The Brotherhood. The least I can do is fulfill my duties.
A good personal assistant anticipated her boss’s needs and met them, even before he asked, she told herself. Now her boss needed blood.
So what was she going to do about it?