The idea horrified her. “What vampire—”

“Long dead, as he full deserved.” His jaw firmed. “The founder took the two of them under his wing, and they found a permanent place here. In our world, they would never be safe.” A grim smile touched his lips. “They’re like me, only their comparable lack of strength is much more obvious. However, the fact that they’re still far more powerful than humans makes them an excellent backup to the security detail. An abusive husband or a team sent from one of those oppressive countries to reclaim their women won’t expect a six-year-old to disembowel them. Another reason for the deep forest location. Easier to dispose of bodies.”

He flashed his fangs. “Mel is one of their two marked servants. Her grandparents, Kohana and Chumani, served the vampire who helped Miah and Nerida acclimate to the vampire world, as much as they could. And of course, this territory, while ostensibly under Lord Richard, is also still considered very much Lady Lyssa’s as well. They exist in the shadow of her protection as well.”

He lifted a shoulder. “Because Miah and Nerida clearly have the mannerisms of adults, residents have been told they have a rare aging and sun disorder where they will always look like children, and can’t go out in daylight. They stay here so they aren’t turned into freaks and exploited by the outside world. Some may wonder at the truth of that, but science is more easily believed than the supernatural. Those who came here for safety and secrecy also tend to respect that need for others. So far, Miah and Nerida have always been safe here.”

The vampire world was turning out to be so much more than she knew. Though she wanted to hear more, she understood his responsibility to bring them into the loop about Stephen. “We’ll get the household set up to your liking, Master.”

“I’ve no doubt.” He gave her an appraising look, then he was gone, turning and disappearing into the night. But her body heated at that look, remembering his threat in the vehicle, a threat that she took in a way perhaps most women wouldn’t. But most women weren’t raised in the vampire world. Other than her brother, it was the closest to an emotional declaration she’d received from a male.

Well, perhaps not the only one. Mounting the stairs, she found Niall now in the kitchen. A plate of cookies had been left next to a vase of daisies on the counter. He’d turned back the cellophane and was finishing what appeared to be his third or fourth helping. He nodded to the plate. “Nerida left us cookies. Better eat them now, because there won’t be any later.”

“Apparently,” she noted, trying to smile at him, reclaim their easy earlier state. He straightened.

“We’ll pull in his equipment first. I can get most of it if you’re tired. Or if you want tae rest up for whatever ‘extracurricular activities’ ye have planned.”

She narrowed her gaze. “You’re the one with extracurricular plans. Perhaps you should refuel with cookies while I unpack. I wouldn’t want her disappointed by your performance.”

Yes, she knew what Evan had said about old friends, but she hadn’t expected Niall to be nasty. Though his expression became more hostile, she bumped toes with him, glaring back. “I asked because I wanted to know what was expected. Not because I intended to go out and jump the first available male. I don’t want that.”

“But you’ll condemn me for it? Like I’m some sort of hoormaister? It’s only supposed to be about the vampire? His wants and needs?”

“To an InhServ, yes. You and Evan have your own ways. I expect he would prefer to have your full devotion, but—”

“Excuse me?” His brows knitted together, clouds drawing together before the storm. Crossing her arms, she took a step back, not in retreat, but to avoid a crick in her neck.

“It’s not an insult, Niall. Knowing you hold yourself only for his will, whether it’s to watch us with another, or for another purpose, but always to serve him—it says something.” She took a breath, trying to give him an earnest explanation. “It builds the bond, deepens it. Most vampires . . . when you give them your full devotion, there’s an energy to it. Like the slow anticipation of a climax, when Master is teasing you, keeping it out of reach until you think you’ll explode from it.”

“Aye, ye know so much about it. Your mindless devotion to Stephen was bloody perfection.”

She slapped him. When he caught her wrist, dragging her to him, she didn’t try to yank free, but stayed stiff and angry, her face close to his enraged one. They’d taught her expressing her emotions was acceptable, so she’d embrace the lesson.

“What Stephen was or wasn’t to me wasn’t relevant to my oath. I served him fully, no matter what. There was honor in that, purpose. Your debt of honor to Evan was the excuse for something you wanted but couldn’t give yourself.” Her voice had lifted to a near shout. She’d never shouted in her life.

Okay, maybe she was embracing the lesson a little too much. She pulled back. She wasn’t showing proper control, but beyond that, her anger would accomplish nothing in the face of his own temper. So she took it down a notch, speaking calmly despite the fact that she was hurt, a dull throb beneath her heart.

“You fear the risk I took with Stephen, but it’s nonsense. However wrong it was for me to wish for it, you have within your grasp what I hoped to have. You have it because you aren’t an InhServ.”

His gaze flickered with surprise, some of the anger chased away by it. Her lips quivered, then she firmed them, lifting her chin. “The irony of that isn’t lost on me. What I truly wanted may have been lost to me from the beginning. But I think if you had only a touch of what I am, you could let yourself love Evan the way you’ve always wanted. With everything you are. You think you betrayed your wife because you didn’t love her the way you love Evan now. So you withhold it, to punish you both.”

The flush in his cheeks drained away. As Niall stared at her, speechless, she realized she’d gone too far, said too much. Had she smashed a wall behind which he hadn’t even sensed the truth? Or had she simply hurt him to no purpose other than to assuage her own anger?

“Niall.”

He shook his head, a sharp slice of his hand silencing her. A hundred thoughts were moving behind his eyes. Perhaps he was right about the devil blessing a woman’s tongue. First she’d offended Evan by not trusting his judgment with the Trad, and now this. She wished they’d let her do self-flagellation, because she was sorely in need of it. Her emotions were so uncontained, the two she least wanted to offend kept getting caught in the maelstrom.

Reaching out, she caught that hand. He didn’t pull away, but he was rigid, stiff. Even so, she lifted his hand to her mouth, pressing her lips to his rough, large knuckles. She held her cheek there, just as she had with Evan.

“You were right. I was jealous.” She could swallow pride, an unusual indulgence for her anyhow. Her cheeks were burning, though. “I meant what I said. I’m here to serve you and Evan, however you need me. No matter what.”

“Both of us?” His voice was wooden, but she took heart from the question.

“Yes. I serve you both.”

“You slapped me.”

“Well . . .” She cleared her throat, keeping her eyes on his thick fingers. “Sometimes that’s a necessary service.”

Hearing a low rumble, she dared a glance up. He was chuckling. The anger dissipated, but it left the pain. She touched his mouth before he could tell her no. “I shouldn’t have said those things.”

“Do you think they’re true?” He met her gaze, his jaw tight.

“Does it matter what I think?”

“Aye, it does, lass.” He sighed, a resigned, weary sound she didn’t like. “You ken how to read people. There’s summat to what ye said, even if I dinnae want to hear it. Though it matters little now.”

“Maybe it matters more than you realize.” His accent had thickened, and she was starting to realize what that meant.

Putting her arms around him, she hugged as much of him as she could, a man of his bulk. They both faced death, and no matter how brave he was, it had to be unsettling to come to terms with the loss of all he knew. To lose Evan, the one continuous presence in his life. His family.

After only these few days, she had an understanding of what it meant to truly belong to another, to love and have a family. It was a far more precious thing than a functional, one-sided and mostly emotionless relationship. Burying her face in his chest, in the heat and solidity of him, her precarious world steadied as she tried to do the same for him.

She was glad he hadn’t pressed her for an answer to his question. She’d said she was sorry, not because she didn’t believe what she said, but because she was afraid she’d tear apart the fragile thing she’d been enjoying with them. That wasn’t very noble, but it was honest.

“Did Evan tell ye what he thought of ye and other men?” The rumble in his voice made her smile.

“You know he did. You just want to hear me say it. He said he’d take a belt to me.”

“Mmph. That’d make two of us.” He had a fondness for those hard squeezes of her backside, the ones that made her squirm against him, which she expected was his intent. When she punched him in the side, he chuckled again.

“You’re getting a feisty side, lass. ’Tis a guid thing, even when I want to strangle ye for it. Leave off, now. Let a man be a man and maintain his demons as he pleases. Women always want to turn us inside out, put that nonsense on the outside, make us soft. I’ll take care of the unloading; you go find Evan. He wants to make sure I didnae murder ye. I’ll leave all the nesting to you, so you willnae feel ye shirked your duty.”

“You just want me to do all the unpacking.”

“There is that. Go to him. Nerida and Miah want to meet ye.”

“All right.” Evan wanted her, and that required an immediate response, but she did pause to put both hands on his firm jaw. “Can you say ‘murder’ again? You’re so Scottish when you get mad.”