“The lions were thrilled to know that dinner was delivered so fresh here,” Chayton tossed in over the rising laughter.

“The poor leopard, Susie, was just playing, as she always does when she sees him. But of course, she caught him by surprise, and as they rolled and she realized where they were going, she dug her claws in and panicked so he couldn’t immediately loosen her.”

Bidzil picked up the thread in his smooth storyteller’s voice, his pale green eyes dancing. “Now, he could have gotten away if he’d needed only a blink to get his thrusters beneath him and charge away to preserve his pretty face. But he still had that leopard wrapped around him and the lions would tear her apart in a heartbeat. So he tossed her free, like he was hurling a rock, and launched himself onto the head lion.”

At Elisa’s wide eyes and horrified indrawn breath, Kohana leaned in, elbowed her. “I don’t want to give away the ending, little miss, but he survived. I promise.” He jerked his head in Mal’s direction, who looked affronted by the whole production, though she saw a faint curve to his beautiful mouth.

This was when he came closest to happiness, she realized. When it was all about what they were doing here, their bonding together over it. The beauty of the night enclosed them, the wind singing through the mesh fencing that surrounded the house. Dispersed on that wind were the sounds of the cats, every call a distinct voice to these people, and especially Mal. If she had a place where she felt at peace like this, she wouldn’t ever leave, either. She’d never wander far, at least. She’d felt that way about the station, until . . . what had happened.

His gaze shifted to her, and that smile left his face. It wasn’t irritation, however. She saw that intensity he displayed with her in more private moments, as if he wanted to give her something, something beyond just a physical caress.

She looked away, unsettled. “So did he pin the head lion and tell him to give over?” Taking a bite of the biscuit, she cradled it in both hands. Still in the trousers she was beginning to like wearing, she propped her feet up on the edge of the bench, balancing her elbows on her knees as she ate.

“Oh, he got ripped up pretty good, just like the other day, but he rolled free and was off and running. Of course he left a blood trail that kept them snarling and agitated half the night. Took them a few days to get over it.”

“Not to mention, he brought home a shirt he insisted on having mended, though it would have been better to use it for the scrap bag, after I washed out the blood.”

“Waste not, want not,” Mal commented.

“It was a waste of my time to spend two hours fixing it,” Kohana grumbled.

“I’d be happy to do any sewing around the place,” Elisa offered. “I’m a fair hand with a needle. That goes for the lot of you.”

She was immediately regaled with a variety of thanks, and a hint she’d have a pile of mending by dawn. Oh, well. It was something else she could take with her to the fledglings tomorrow. Perhaps she could put needle and thread and a scrap of fabric in the communal area and get the girls to emulate what she was doing outside of it. Teach them some needlework, if they could sit still long enough. Even the boys might try. Most single men had to know the way of it until they found a wife to do for them.

As if reading the direction of her thoughts, Chumani gave her a regretful look. “Little sister, tomorrow I’m going to have to cut your time short. I have to get some fencing set up with Tokala during the day, and it will put me far behind in my night work. I’ve already talked to the others, and no one has a couple hours to spare tomorrow.”

She pressed Elisa’s arm, acknowledging how much the girl looked forward to her visits, but then lightened her tone. “Of course, if you do all these lazy louts’ mending, you’ll be like Cinderella, too many things to do to go to the ball anyhow. If Kohana wasn’t so clumsy with those big hands of his, they wouldn’t be so eager to take you up on it.”

“If you knew what being a woman was all about, you’d have taken it over long ago,” Kohana retorted.

“You’re enough of a woman for both of us,” she returned sweetly, and set off a round of guffaws as the big Indian lobbed a metal pot at her. The speed and strength was such it took Chumani’s second-mark reflexes to dodge it. It winged past her and Mal caught it with barely a blink. Elisa saw they were both grinning, though, and realized such rough play was normal.

“What if I drove myself?” She blurted it out quickly. “You’ve let me drive with you in the passenger seat a couple times now. I’ve been there plenty of times, and know how to operate the gates, after all. There’s no danger as long as I follow the rules.”

The commotion at the table stilled, and all eyes went to Mal. He set aside his cup, wiping the blood residue off his lips with the back of his hand, showing a flash of fang as he did it. “I’ll be fine,” she repeated staunchly. “It’s silly to keep sending someone with me when you know it’s unnecessary. Your people have enough to do. You can trust me.”

He put his feet down, sitting up straight on his bench against the tree. “Come over here.”

She rose, a little nervous at the tone, her stomach wobbling for more reasons than one, but she skirted around the edge of the table. When she stopped in front of him, he rose and cupped her face, tilting her chin up and holding her steady and firm, a reminder of who had a handle on everything here. She didn’t know if he intended that reminder or it was just how it looked while he plumbed her mind for her sincerity. She wasn’t afraid of that scrutiny.

He released her, his chest and fine shoulders filling her view as she lowered her chin. “You take a radio. If anything comes up, you call Kohana. I don’t care how minor a problem it is; you don’t handle it yourself.” He mortified her, as well as snapped her gaze back up, when his hand closed over her right buttock.

“You step over the line one inch, I’ll blister your ass until you can’t move, and then I’ll take you to my bed and really remind you why it’s wise to obey me.”

Her face flushed. She wasn’t unused to public chastising, because it was always a possibility for a servant, but this was decidedly different. She was entirely certain that wasn’t the kind of punishment he’d dished out for Tokala.

That possessive look, and the proximity of his body, were doing what they always seemed to do to her. It was impossible to act simply like an employee receiving instruction from an employer. Especially when his grip eased so he could trace his knuckles along the curve of her arse, a far more provocative and teasing touch, indulging his own desires. Mal didn’t care that the others saw, though she noted that the hands were kind enough to be studiously eating and talking among themselves. What unnerved her, however, was it didn’t matter. She’d stand there as long as he wanted to touch her.

Bloody vampires.

A smile touched his firm lips and he released her. However, before he stepped back, he caressed her cheek, tugged one of her curls in what would have passed for affection if anyone else was doing it. “All right, then. Chumani, tomorrow night make sure she has a radio and knows how to use it.”

21

SHE told herself to act as calm and efficient as she would be in the company of one of the island staff, as if there was nothing unexpected about her showing up alone. There really was no difference in procedure, except that when she went through the two-gate system to put things in the communal enclosure, she had to keep the outer gate wedged open until she came back out the inner gate. The inner gate controls were at the outer gate, and the outer gate controls were positioned on a pole embedded next to a stump for sitting. The outer gate controls also had the release buttons to the individual cell doors. It was a twoman system, designed to make sure there was always at least one locked gate between the inhabitants and staff. However, Mal had agreed it would still be quite safe as long as no fledglings were in the communal area until she had both gates securely locked between herself and them.

She further reassured herself with that thought, decidedly ignoring the hair-raising sensation that Leonidas was staring a hole into her when she wasn’t looking toward him. Distributing blood in the small lockdown cages, she let everyone drink. They had discovered it was rare for any of the children to experience a bloodlust attack in the first hour or two after feeding, unless there was an unexpected stressor.

Jeremiah took his turn first in the communal enclosure, followed by William. She hoped Mal would eventually decide to let William and Matthew out together, the way he did Miah and Nerida. When William was let into the communal area, he always went to Matthew’s cell first, reaching through to touch the boy’s shoulder or head. Despite what Mal said about vampires being more like the solitary cat species, she saw something of his lions in the way they used tactile gestures for affirmation. Likewise, during his time in the communal area, Matthew would eventually settle with his back against the gate to William’s cell.

When his time was up, Jeremiah of course returned to his cell when she asked him to do so. Matthew and William did so more reluctantly, but mostly because they didn’t want to be parted. It made her heartstrings tighten, but she was firm and reassuring at once. Given how well Matthew, Jeremiah and Miah had done on the open preserve together, Elisa nursed a hope that one day the cells might be needed very little, period. She liked to imagine William and Matthew living in a house, sharing a bedroom as brothers might.

Reminding herself there were two gates between her and him, and that Leonidas knew the consequences if he didn’t go back in when told to do so, she let him out next. He had gulped his blood, watching her through his lashes with those narrowed red eyes. The other children had the crimson iris only when in bloodlust. Leonidas always had it. Whatever his original eye color had been was now a distant memory. She tried to imagine him with blue eyes or brown, settled on green as he prowled around the perimeter. He hissed at the others, who wisely stayed away from their cell doors, except for Jeremiah.

Jeremiah stayed within several feet of his door, arms crossed, feet spread, watching the vampire like a hawk. It was an oddly adult posture for a boy who appeared nine years old, the slim body braced and gray-green eyes intent. His fangs dug into his chin as if he was holding his jaw more rigidly than usual.