As he opened his trousers, she closed her eyes, keeping her head bowed. She told herself it was no different than Niall ordering her to go down on the Mistress earlier. She was trained to do whatever a vampire, or even his higher-ranking servant, told her to do.

Leaning forward, she moistened her lips to lubricate his entry. With a satisfied growl, he clamped down on her skull and shoved himself into the back of her throat. Even with her training, the abruptness took her by surprise. He smelled terrible, and she fought her gag reflex. Focus. Pushing past it, she used her tongue and lips, all her knowledge of giving oral pleasure, to settle him down, help him realize how much more enjoyable it would be if he worked with her.

Wrapping his hand around her wrist, he pulled it toward his mouth. She couldn’t worry about Evan and Niall right now. Evan would be talking Tyler and Brendan down, addressing the same primary concern she had, of a human bloodbath. Her best service to her Master was to put her mind in a state of silence, of open service, doing whatever was required.

You are not doing what your Master requires, Alanna.

She stilled, as did the vampire, sensing Evan’s approach. The male drew his fetid cock from her mouth, thankfully, but he didn’t move away, or drop her wrist. After he fastened his trousers, he stroked her hair, fingertips whispering down to the heavy beat of her neck pulse. Smelling metal, she identified razor tips under his nails, explaining their length. Cutting her throat would be easy.

“Alanna, come to me.”

The vampire tightened his hold. Blood trickled over her collarbone, a shallow cut, but the threat was clear. “You gave her to me to enjoy until you could deign to speak to me. She will take my dick, feed me. And then we’ll see if you have the balls to take her from me.”

“The blessing and curse of an InhServ is her anticipation of a Master’s needs.” Evan’s voice was reasonable. Controlled. Could the Trad hear what she heard beneath it? It reminded her of when she’d first seen Evan feed off Niall, the dangerous glint in his gaze proving he was as much a predator as any other vampire.

“Sometimes they anticipate . . . and offer, too much,” Evan continued. “She will be punished for it. Severely. My letters of sponsorship from Lord Uthe and the Lady Lyssa prove I have clear passage across this territory, with no requirement that I petition the overlord. If you take advantage of my servant, or cause me harm, you answer to them.”

“That may be so, but they care little what I do to your servant.”

“You will take nothing further from her without killing me, and then she’ll be dead as well.” She realized he was hedging his bets that the Trad couldn’t tell she wasn’t third-marked by Evan, not with the mixed stew of blocker, Stephen and Evan all in her blood. “You answer to the Council for the death of another vampire. Lord Uthe is not known for his tolerance. InhServs have a particular value to the Council as well.”

The vampire stared over her head. Alanna could feel Evan’s presence at her back, a deadly stillness. Niall was there as well. The charged testosterone was like ozone, a prelude to an explosion.

The vampire’s nails dug into her flesh, deeper this time. The artery started to bleed freely under his touch. “I can sense your strength, vampire. You are no match for me. Your other servant, though obviously far more of a warrior than his Master, will not stop me, either.”

“This isn’t a pissing match,” Evan said patiently. “I’m simply telling you how things are. You kill me, harm my servant—either of them—you will answer for it.”

“And that’s supposed to make me quake in fear?” the Trad scoffed.

“No. But this might.”

At the sound of a fourth male voice, Alanna lifted her gaze in time to see the lethal silver blade of a katana slide along the Trad’s collarbone, notch against the side of his throat in the same way his razor-tipped nails were against hers. A long-fingered hand wrapped over his opposite shoulder, holding him firm. “I’ve no problem removing your head from your body, Colin. Remove those razor tips from her throat. Very slowly. I might shift my weight and cut through your spine.”

She knew that ice-cool voice, despite the fact that she’d only heard it several times. “Alanna, return to your Master’s side.”

The Trad released her. As she rose on shaky knees and stepped back, she came up against Evan. In the blink since Lord Daegan’s appearance, he’d closed the distance between them. Her Master handed her off to Niall without a word, the Scot pressing her down to her knees just behind him, so that she saw the wooden stakes thrust into the back of the kilt, as well as a wicked knife scabbarded on his calf. Evan didn’t appear armed, but she wouldn’t trust her eyes on that, not with the menace emanating from him.

Though she had her hand pressed to her neck, blood ran over her knuckles. The Trad had cut too deep. It wouldn’t kill her, but she could pass out. She increased the pressure, willing herself to stay upright. If an opportunity presented itself to help Evan or Niall, she wanted to be ready to take it. The memory of Adam, here one moment, gone the next, gripped her with terror now.

“You know me, but I do not know you.” Colin’s gaze narrowed, but he was prevented from turning around by that hand locked on his shoulder. “You, too, are traveling where you shouldn’t be. I will have your name.”

“Most of those who know it are dead. Are you ready to pay that price? You’ve broken no laws. Yet. Leave without looking back, and the matter is concluded. Turn around to see who or what I am, and it will be the last thing you do. Evan and his servants are under the Council’s direct protection, as he said. I am his proof.” Daegan adjusted his grip, and blood started to seep out from beneath the blade.

Colin bared his fangs in a hiss but, true to vampire nature, he accepted he was outmatched. In a brief flash of movement he was gone, the trees whispering of his passing. All three men, the two vampires and one hunter, listened in alert silence, making sure he was taking a path away from the house. Alanna felt the Trad’s presence dissipate like an acrid smoke blown away by a clean wind.

Daegan’s blade disappeared back inside his coat. Though there was moonlight in the clearing, he stayed where the shadows still claimed him. “It’s a good thing I came looking for you, Evan.”

“Yes.” Evan’s response was short, tight. “My thanks, my lord. Is there a problem?”

“Stephen is within a hundred miles of his InhServ. That can’t be a coincidence. He was never fond of the North American continent.”

Alanna’s heart leaped in her throat as she thought once again of the unprotected humans here. But Lord Daegan was already ahead of her. “You need a more protected location.”

“We planned to go to the art colony after this,” Evan said.

Daegan lifted a brow. “With Nerida and Miah?”

“Yes.”

The Council’s assassin nodded. “A defensible position. Head that way as soon as you can travel and plan on staying there unless I indicate otherwise to you. I’ll maintain a perimeter of a few miles and watch for signs of him. He’ll likely bide his time. He has nothing else at this point.”

“She gains him nothing.” Niall spoke now, the frustration obvious in his voice. “It only makes him vulnerable to capture.”

“Stephen isn’t linked to a stronger vampire, Niall. Even his original overlord, the one who took Stephen’s blood before he started rising in the vampire ranks, died of Ennui some time ago. She’s the only living link to his whereabouts. He knows that’s why she’s being kept alive. She’s bait, yes, but once she’s gone, he can disappear, go to unpopulated areas like that Trad. Wait for the times to change and vampires to forget.” Daegan paused. “That’s the practical side. But at heart, Stephen is a vampire, and an excessively arrogant and unforgiving one. He wants her head.”

It was what she herself had thought, but hearing it said out loud chilled her skin. She pushed that aside. “Master, is there any way I can help? If not taking the blocker will draw him closer—”

Niall’s hand landed on her shoulder, a warning. When Evan didn’t respond to her, she looked toward Daegan. “If it will help, my lord—”

Pivoting, Evan caught her by the hair, yanking her up onto her knees. A twist of his wrist arched her throat, her neck at an agonizing angle. “Did I give you leave to speak?” His cruel tone stabbed her heart.

“No, Master.”

“Then you will shut your mouth unless I do. You proved tonight why you shamed your InhServ training. Serving your own will is far more important than serving your Master’s.”

If he’d struck her in the face with a closed fist, he couldn’t have delivered a more lethal blow. She was so stunned she just stared at him.

“Eyes down,” he barked at her, reminding her of the first rule a servant ever learned. Dropping to her palms, she pressed her forehead to the ground, the InhServ’s most submissive posture. When he turned back to Daegan, his feet were planted on either side of her shoulders. “If you’ll give me leave to make my excuses to the Wintermans, my lord, I’ll meet you at a rendezvous point of your choosing, to discuss further matters before we part.”

Evan was so angry every muscle in his shoulders were tight, his eyes cold steel. During their three hundred years together, Niall had incurred that level of wrath perhaps twice. Though he felt very protective toward her as a result, it was clear Evan would put him on the ground if he tried to interfere. Not that it would stop Niall from trying, but it likely wouldn’t result in any help for her.

Though he didn’t agree with what Evan said to shut her down, he understood Evan’s fury with her, because he shared some of it himself. As she’d anticipated, they’d had to deal with Tyler, and convincing a trained operative nothing was amiss, while she was approaching an unknown vampire head-on, had been ten levels of bollocks. It was bad enough her lips had been wrapped around that bastard’s cock. He’d almost had his fangs in her, and that was the least thing the Trad had intended to inflict upon her.