Besides that, Candide was a viper. She might love him, but she might also use him. She’d clearly been doing well for herself. Convincing her to follow him could be difficult. How many might rally behind her? Was she the better choice to lead?
“I’m not in the mood for your patronizing tone,” Roger said, for once dropping his own polished American accent for the rough poor Englishman’s voice he’d been born to. He felt the ripple in Ezra’s desires and Candide’s. They’d always liked this side of him when everyone else had made him hide it away.I should use that. He swallowed the rum and set the empty glass on the desk. “Why didn’t you tell him about me?”
“Honestly, I wasn’t sure it was you until I held your arm this evening. There’s no mistaking the flow of vampiric power within you.”
“Dmitri verified me months back.”
“Dmitri and I have been having problems lately. And we’ve had so many rumors proven false over the decades that I didn’t want to raise my hopes, let alone Ezra’s.”
Roger wiped his mouth and shook his head.
“You’re on edge,” Candide said as she stood. She went to the cabinet, took out the bottle of rum, and refilled his glass. “That’s my fault.”
“It’s not you,” Roger said as he took the glass. “Not entirely.”
“I am in awe you chose to return at all. Had I been you, I might have stayed away.”
“As if I could live in the open withouthisapproval,” Roger murmured.
“Too true.” Candide leaned against the desk and sipped her drink. With a nod, she gestured over her shoulder. “If you like, we can bend Ezra over the desk, and you can redden his ass. I’ll even let you fuck him. He’s been longing to have something up his ass all evening.”
“He hasn’t wanted me since …” Roger couldn’t say the words.
“Since the manor?” Candide strolled around behind the desk. She ran her hand through Ezra’s hair and pulled him up again. Stroking his cheek with her glass, she said, “That’s a lie, isn’t it, mon chien?”
Ezra closed his eyes.
Candide grinned to Roger. “He’s been confessing all manner of sins to me. Wrath. Envy. Lust. Remember your sireling James?”
JameshatedRoger since he’d become a vampire. Roger rolled his drink, letting the swish of liquid settle him. “That’s a rude question.”
“It is since your heart broke when James fled for Alaska. Guess who convinced him that was a good idea?” Candide released Ezra’s hair and strode around the desk to stand beside Roger. “You feel it, don’t you? Or have your senses dimmed?”
Fully delving into another’s fears or desires took concentration. A twinge of guilt didn’t stop Roger from sifting through the ruckus pouring out of Ezra. His desire was high—pain and humiliation were strings that easily tugged Ezra into lust. He was a submissive through and through. Roger had explored that with him before he turned him, back when things were good between them.
Underneath that floating want was the sour taste of fear. Ezra was terrified … of what? Reading emotions wasn’t like reading a mind. The interpretations could be muddled.
“He’s scared you’ll hate him,” Candide said.
“I could never hate him,” Roger said quietly. “Not when everything is my fault.”
“The both of you are so tragic,” Candide chided. She ran her finger along the back of Roger’s chair and went to the cabinet full of toys. After setting down her glass, she removed a flogger and ran the strips over her fingers. “We all know who is to blame, and it’s neither of you. I don’t want to discuss him, though. I want to clear the air between the two of you and remove this distraction from Ezra’s mind.”
Candide offered Roger the flogger; he thought about taking it. They’d disciplined pets together before. Though Ezra was a vampire, he was collared and chained like he belonged to her.
When Roger hesitated, Candide used the end of the flogger to lift his chin up. They locked gazes in another staring contest, but this time, shame and anguish caused him to break away in a matter of seconds.
But he’d cracked. The pieces of the masks he’d been wearing crumbled, and he had no clue how to weld them together again.
“Ah,” Candide said gently. “You’re sliding into one of those phases. You think you’re the one who deserves the punishment.”
Roger wiped a hand down his face. He didn’t have time for this. He couldn’t be …this. This raw, hurt man would be thedeath of him, and he had to bury him down where he belonged. With a deep breath, he drew on the cloak of uncaring that he’d established for decades and a mask of indifference. Calmly, he said, adopting his usual American tone, “Perhaps. But I am not the one with your collar or chained to your walls.”
“You could spend a night that way.”
“Not this night, nor one anytime soon,” Roger replied.
A knock on the door caught him off guard and seemed to disturb Candide, judging from the way she frowned. She strode over to the door and answered it.
