It was normal, though. A biological response to power, nothing more. It meant nothing, and yet it would make everything more difficult if she developed some misplaced infatuation with the vampire tasked with watching over her.
And his own body had reacted in kind, but it was easy enough for him to reroute the blood flow away from his cock.
He was Master Vampire of Alaska while he spent a few decades away from serious power, but he’d recently controlled twenty percent of the fucking United States — and he would not allow a spoiled dragon princess to complicate his carefully ordered existence.
He stepped into the room he shared with Spencer and saw the leather and linen outfit ready for him to put on.
His boy knew where his head was.
The tightly woven linen was strong enough to hold up to multiple bleachings, and was made into a bone-white frilly blouse. The leather pants had been treated so blood could be wiped off and it wouldn’t soak in.
Traditional garb for a whipping master.
Tonight, he would bleed the lesson of respect and true authority into Alistair’s back. He would teach everyone the dragon princess’s value with every lash of the whip.
He could hear the forming crowd the second he left the house, and when he arrived at the statue garden, vampires and flock alike lined the inner circle five deep. Some perched on benches or stone railings, but most stood.
No one outside the garden could see into it, but he saw people on the upper balconies. They’d hear what happened even if they couldn’t see. Many of the daywalkers would need to wake early, but that didn’t seem to have kept many away.
Alistair stood with his arms chained over his head near one end of the circle, but Emmy wasn’t in the chair he’d told Spencer to put her in.
He scanned minds and saw her stepping out of the house and heading toward the garden. They had another four minutes until they started, so she was fine.
Walk her to the chair,he telepathed Fawn.Meet her outside the circle and bring her in.
He looked at the naked and chained malefactor again. Skin pale under the low lights despite the fact he’d recently fed.
Zander went into the vampire’s head and saw fear and anger. No regret. The man was pissed at the daywalker who’d lied about his treatment of her.
So he went into the arrogant prick’s head to see what his version of the feeding looked like, and realized the worthless cunt didn’t see anything wrong with making herkneel, and thought he was truly that much better than her merely because he was a vampire and she was not. And the bite? He’d thought it would do her good to remember who’d drank from her until it healed.
Zander’s rage threatened to redline, but he’d had centuries to perfect the art of displaying calm.
Zander stepped into the space, every eye turning to him. He walked to the pedestal with the whip coiled on it, lifted it, and then let it drop to the ground and drag behind him.
“There was no tattling,” Zander told the malefactor, standing behind him. “I scented blood on her and had to order hertwiceto share the memory of how her side had been ripped open as if by a rabid fucking dog. How are you in your third century and still unable to bite neatly? And what part of respecting and valuing the dragon in our midst did you miss?”
He bit the words out and looked down at the long tail of the whip snaking along the tiles. Thick braided leather with seven steel barbs woven and threaded into it.
He felt Fawn seating Emerald in the seat off to the left behind him. The best seat in the house. Technically, the only seat, but the best viewing spot.
He put a little power into his voice to announce, “The malefactor is sentenced to one hundred and forty-four lashes for the crime of mistreating a flock member. No silver, all steel, and all to be given by my hand as the last dozen would traditionally be.”
He heard the collective gasp of the crowd and ignored them. It was indeed a savage sentence, but in Zander’s eyes, the sentence equaled the transgression.
“Mercy!” Alistair cried out. “Please have mercy! It was a rough bite to the ribs! One bite! Not over a hundred, Master Zander!”
“You made her kneel before you and call herself unworthy. She isn’t contracted for those kinds of sex games, and you damned well knew you were pushing past her agreed-upon, consensual limits. This on top of my instruction to value the dragon blood I’d gifted youallwith…”
He stopped, checked his temper and set it aside. He spoke slower. Colder. “Not only did you not respect her value to the coterie, you didn’t respect the orders of your Master. Keep complaining and you’ll get silver for the final dozen, so you’ll bear the scars for the rest of your existence.”
He sobbed in his chains, but Zander felt nothing but disdain for him.
Finally, Alistair said, “I bend to my Master’s wishes in all things.”
Well, it was about damned time the bastard remembered his place.
“That goes without saying,” Zander responded. “Willing or not is entirely up to you, but if you don’t bend, I will fucking bend you into the shape I desire.”
