“Oh, please do not cry, dearest!” Neferet pulled her into an embrace. “I will not let you be harmed. I give you my oath.” She held her out at arm’s length so that she could look into her handmaid’s eyes again. “I have never Imprinted with anyone. Not once in my long life. I have always avoided it and never, ever considered Imprinting with a human. But now I offer this bond to you as I do my oath.”
“I’m afraid,” Lynette said.
“Of me?”
Lynette shook her head. “No. I’m afraid to die.”
“But, dearest, you will not die. You will simply be bonded to me.”
“I have a horrible feeling that if that monster is released, she will be the death of me.”
Neferet’s grip on her shoulders tightened. “I will never allow that. You trusted me enough to come with me to another world. Will you trust me enough now to believe that I will protect you?”
“I—I will,” whispered Lynette.
“And will you allow yourself to Imprint with me?”
Lynette’s voice sounded stronger, more like her own when she answered. “Yes, my lady. I will.”
The two women hugged, clinging to one another until it was Lynette who stepped back, wiping her face. “How do I do it?”
Neferet smiled. “We do it, and it is quite easy when both parties want the same thing. Often it is sexual, so do not be shocked at the feelings of pleasure.” Lynette looked surprised, but not upset or repulsed, so Neferet continued. “I cannot say for sure what it will do to us or how it will make us feel, except that it will bring us even closer.”
Lynette nodded. “How do we do this?”
“Come to the settee here.” Neferet pointed at the gold velvet love seat positioned at the end of the wall of windows.
Lynette smoothed the cardigan she wore over her silk knit tank top and sat as Neferet returned to the liquor cabinet and poured brandy into another snifter—this time, considerably more than a taste. She sat beside Lynette and offered her the glass.
“Drink all of it—quickly. If you’re a little tipsy the beginning will go easier. As I drink your blood, it will become pleasurable for you, but I would not have you experience any discomfort.”
Lynette downed the expensive brandy in three gulps. “That’s why you always had me get your feeders a little drunk before showing them to your suite?”
“It is. I used to enjoy the taste of fear on a feeder, but at Balmacara Mains I knew the panic and screams would upset Mrs. Muir and bring unwanted attention. That is, at first, why I asked you to get them drunk. Then, as I experienced the sweetness of their pleasure, my tastes changed.” Neferet paused and touched Lynette’s cheek gently. “Or perhaps I changed.”
“We both have,” said Lynette.
“I believe our friendship will change our world,” said Neferet. “Now, I usually feed from the neck or the inner thigh—or even somewhere more intimate.”
Lynette’s eyes widened, and she hiccuped. “Oh, my! I—I didn’t know about … that.”
“Yes, well, I think it would be best if I fed from your arm. It will be simple to staunch the flow of blood there and won’t be uncomfortably intimate for you.”
“I am ready.” Lynette shrugged off her cardigan, folded it neatly, and placed it across the back of the love seat.
Neferet wet her lips and slid closer.
Other Lynette
Lynette shivered, lifted her arm, and offered it to Neferet. She took it and gently rested it across her lap.
“Have I told you how much I appreciate your fastidiousness? And I do not mean only in regard to the work you do for me. You are always so perfectly coiffed, and you dress with impeccable taste.”
Neferet’s compliment and the brandy worked together to warm Lynette, and she stopped shivering. “Thank you. That means a lot to me. All my life I’ve tried to be put together.”
“I know. And I understand. It’s because of your childhood. You never want to go back there,” Neferet said.
“Neither do you,” Lynette said.
“And neither of us ever shall. Now, my dearest, lean back and relax. This will not hurt. You will feel a slight tug as my fingernail opens your skin, but the moment I begin drinking, my pheromones pass to you. When Nyx created vampyres she made it so that feeding can be a very pleasurable sensation.”
“Will I bleed a lot?”
“No. I will only drink from you until I feel the Imprint. Then I will close your wound. You saw no blood when my feeders left Balmacara, remember?”
Lynette leaned back and closed her eyes. “That’s right. I remember. Go ahead. I’m not afraid anymore.”
Neferet lifted her arm. At her wrist, where the skin is thin and the veins close to the surface, Neferet kissed her softly. Then Lynette felt a sharp tug. It made her inhale and tense with the anticipation of pain, but before it hit her system Neferet’s soft, warm lips pressed against her skin and she began licking and sucking.
The pleasure shocked Lynette. At first it was indeed sexual—very sexual. She moaned, and the thought flickered through her mind: We could be doing so much more than this right now! Then Neferet drank deeper and the pleasure shifted to incredible warmth that suffused her body, spreading joy with each beat of her heart. The joy grew and grew. It poured from Neferet, and as it did the loneliness that had shadowed Lynette’s entire life was chased away.
Lynette opened her eyes and cradled Neferet closer to her and stroked her hair as the vampyre continued to drink. As she took in her blood, Lynette began to sense Neferet’s feelings. She could tell that the drinking of her blood brought pleasure to Neferet. She could also feel the worry within Neferet—the concern about Lynette’s safety and the vampyre’s determination to protect her. And then she listened deeper, and Lynette found that secret place deep inside Neferet where she hid that
