“Our civility is a mantle we choose to wear,” he added at her surprised look. “You yourself have pointed it out. Under threat or anger, our instincts can rise up and take over. The same as for any species who deceives itself into thinking they have outgrown their primal roots.” He lifted a shoulder. “You saw it earlier tonight. For male vampires in particular, issues of territory are basic to who we are. And if the territory in question is female, it is worse.”

“But you’re not like that. What I saw tonight . . .”

“There is a right way and a wrong way to exercise it. Jacob’s actions were appropriate tonight, and he earned a greater measure of my respect for it, though we shall let that be our secret as well.” He pinched her arm lightly.

Maybe it wasn’t in a human to completely understand a vampire, or vice versa. Though Mason was different, she’d sensed an implaca bility to him from the beginning, a line he wouldn’t allow her to cross. He would protect her, and yet he would not allow her to defy him, beyond a point. However, some part of her did understand that, and God help her, it was a component of what made her crave him.

Mason had helped her see that not all vampires were monsters, no more than humans, but both species were fully capable of producing them. In some odd way, she did understand what he was saying. Mason and Jacob’s behavior had been a necessary step to avoid bloodshed, by drawing boundaries regarding the very beautiful vampire they both loved. Perhaps because they acknowledged those bloodlust instincts, rather than pretend they could rise above them, they fell prey less often to their own savagery.

“I understand about Danny and Devlin. But Lyssa and Jacob?” she asked.

He yawned, showing his fangs, like a big, sleepy cat. “Why females have so much energy after sex, and males have so little, is one of Allah’s personal jokes. Perhaps we need to redefine the meaning of vampirism.” She poked him, but propped both elbows inside the curve of his arm as he wrapped it around her back, letting his hand lie loosely on her hip. “Who holds control there? Officially, I mean. I understand the rest.”

“Mmmm. For them, it is a difficult question to answer. Because of her turning Jacob, and her embrace of her Fey ancestry, they exist outside the range of Council ruling now. From one perspective, Jacob holds mastery, since his transition took her vampire strengths. He had a devil of a time learning to control them,” he added, amused remembrance crossing his face. “I had the pleasure of shepherding him through that process. It’s a good thing for you I am a vampire, otherwise I would have been so scarred and ugly when it was done, you would not have looked at me twice.”

She suppressed a smile. “What makes you think I look at you at all, my lord? I find you quite plain and unappealing.” He squeezed her bottom, making her squirm closer so he could nuzzle her brow, brush his lips over it. “Jacob took the upper hand by necessity after his turning. She was pregnant, with only Fey abilities she’d never really explored. So for a while she was weak and greatly needed his protection. He third-marked her as he would a servant for that reason. She still has the blood of a vampire, but she’s no longer bound to the night, nor does she live on blood. Her Fey blood allows Jacob to feed on her, nourishing him as a servant would. But Jacob told me earlier she’s embracing more of her Fey heritage these days, and her powers are growing exponentially.”

Seeing her bright-eyed curiosity, Mason sighed. “Perhaps letting you hear it directly from my head, rather than repeating it, will satisfy your curiosity, and let me get to sleep faster.”

Raithe had so rarely opened his mind to her, it was still a novelty, the strength of Mason’s will drawing her mind into his. It was as if he took her by the hand and stepped over the threshold of a world that looked much like hers, only she was seeing it through his perspective. His thoughts and memories opened up images that engaged her senses, so it felt as if she had been there when it happened, his conversation with Jacob . . .

He and Jacob had been sitting in the dining room, sharing a drink while Danny took her feeding from Devlin and Lyssa got Kane settled in the nursery. “Lyssa seems far more sure of herself now than she was in those first months,” Mason observed. “More like herself.”

Jacob inclined his head, tipped his whiskey glass in Mason’s direction. “We owe much of that to your continuing help to Mr. In-gram, managing her estates. We’ve been able to spend more time with the Fey.” Mason shook his head with a half smile. “They haven’t been seen for centuries as you are seeing them. I’m envious.” Jacob snorted. “I thought vampires were insufferably arrogant. They’re humble as monks in comparison to the Fey. Still, it’s been worthwhile. All those years, because of the way the Fey tried to kill her mother before she was born, Lyssa embraced the vampire side, except when the Fey filtered in subconsciously. Now she’s getting to explore more of that side of herself.” When Jacob set his glass down, swirled the contents, Mason noted the whiskey had a deeper hue to it. That, and the scent, told him it was mixed with Lyssa’s blood. It was still odd to him, to see that reversal in their circumstances, and when a shadow passed through Jacob’s gaze, he realized that he was not the only one that might find it unsettling.

“But they have accepted her,” he pressed.

“It’s hard to tell what the Fey accept. From one day to the next, it’s as likely they’ll disappear without a trace or threaten to annihilate you with a flash of heat lightning. But yes, for now they’ve been willing to teach her, guide her.” Jacob’s glance flicked up to the other vampire. “It doesn’t matter how she changes, Mason. She’s always a queen, and only a fool would underestimate it.

It’s in her heart and brain, her very soul. The powers she may or may not have are only secondary.” The Irishman stretched out his long legs, crossed his ankles. Despite the fact he carried the mantle of Lyssa’s power, and Mason knew him quite capable of wielding it, he still chose to dress as the Faire player and drifter he’d been for some years before he met Lyssa. Well-worn jeans, a black T-shirt imprinted with an alehouse logo that featured a green and gold dragon. However, the simmering tension to his lean, muscular body, and the intelligence of his blue eyes warned against underestimating him.

“I remember Lord Brian telling me once that the Fey could kick a vampire’s ass any day of the week,” Jacob mused. “And he’s right. Those powers she has, her grasp of them, are growing exponentially. Her vulnerability during her pregnancy, and her transition from full vampire, were only a short-term thing. She doesn’t require my strength and protection anymore. Not in that manner, at least. And she’s shrugging on the mantle of Fey arrogance quite easily. After all, being a vampire gave her a millennium of training for wearing that.”

Mason gave him a sharp look. “She’ll always need you, Jacob.”

Jacob waved a dismissive hand. “You mistake me. I’m not worried, Mason. I love her, she loves me, and that’s always a balancing act.” He sobered then and met Mason’s gaze directly. “I am her servant, Mason. I never stopped, and I never will stop, even if the nature of that has gotten more complicated. As if it wasn’t complicated enough to begin with.” A smile tugged briefly at his lips.

“I was the port in the storm, and I’ll continue to be that, or whatever else she needs me to be. While I wish the future was more certain, particularly for Kane’s sake, it never is, is it?”

Mason lifted a shoulder, his head filling with memories. “No, it never is.” Jacob inclined his head. “So I can give her one certainty. I will want her forever, love her forever, until the stars fall out of the universe, and we all blow away to dust. No matter what either of us has to become to accomplish that.” 046

True love, the kind that is a circle, with no clear up or down, beginning or end . . .

Jessica put her head down in the crook of Mason’s shoulder, her arms still folded beneath her like a prone bat. “It seems there are no simple choices.”

His hand traced her back, the line of her bare hip. “No, habiba. There aren’t. Sleep now. Or at least have mercy on your poor Master and be silent. Before I gag you.”

She smiled. Can’t gag my mind, my lord. Then she shrieked, giggling as he rolled her over and began to tickle her, until she promised to be quiet and let him sleep. As she settled, she wondered if he’d done it to keep her from descending into darker areas, but regardless, it worked. She dropped off to sleep as well, curved into his body, his arms crossed protectively over her.

She didn’t rise until around noon, and she did so with an unexpected sense of guilt. Amara would have put effort into making sure their guests were more comfortable, their domestic needs attended. While she realized the irony of taking on a role she would have scorned a couple months ago, as she moved around the lower level of the house she discovered the vampires had found the best bedrooms for their needs. Mason had been right—many of the chambers had been ready for guests. Amara had apparently set up a nursery while Mason was still in Berlin.

While Jess understood Mason had not given Amara leave to tell her about the vampires’ arrival until he returned, it still rankled some. Was it a sign of improvement that she felt as cranky as Mason about being handled? Of course, being a terrible patient didn’t mean the patient wasn’t sick.

Pushing that irritating possibility aside, she stopped at her room to change into jeans and a T-shirt. At least she could check the kitchen to see what breakfast arrangements were possible for Devlin or Lyssa. Then she’d go to the stables to help a short-staffed Jorge feed the horses.

Instead, she found Dev already in the kitchen, scrambling eggs and listening to a country station on the radio. His deep timbre was humming along with a George Strait song that declared everyone had a desire to go to Heaven—but no one wanted to go now.

She was almost certain the amazing aroma that met her at the door was pancakes, and he was pulling out some biscuits from the oven. A bowl of cut fresh fruit was already on the counter. Without turning, he slanted an affable smile over his broad shoulder.