Shamira turned human again and went to Clara, who Katar and his people had dragged over next to Samantha. How did one check to see if an undead were still “alive”? She slapped Clara’s face a little, then checked on Samantha. Suddenly Shane and Tabitha and a hoard of bodyguards arrived, the rest of Jonas’ fiery minions having vanished or been vanquished. Shamira met her lord’s gaze. “Is she okay? Please let her –”
Lillian moved forward and stared at Clara. The necromancer looked beyond the vampire’s skin and into something much deeper and less tangible. “She’s still with us,” she said in a relieved voice. “She’s just passed out from heat and exertion. She must have been casting some serious mojo in there.”
* She kept up a wall of water and cold air for as long as she could, * Katar projected. * Lady Shamira, I think we should get Jormungandr to the pool — *
“Yes, please,” Shamira said, ashamed she had not thought of it herself. “He must be scared out of his mind.”
The Sea Serpent crawled out of the pond as if to follow Katar to the barn, but first he turned and put his nose close to Shamira’s face. She ran a hand over his snout and apologized to the universe and the fates that she had almost let this magnificent creature die. It nuzzled her softly, then nuzzled its brother Aodh before making for the safety of its pool. Aodh stayed near to Shamira, allowing the faerie princess Coramen and Lillian to look over its burned wing. They were both convinced it would heal.
Tabitha managed to wake up Samantha, who just looked around dazedly for a moment before her eyes came to rest on Shamira, then they opened wide.
‘She’s afraid of me,’ Shamira thought. ‘Now she truly understands what I am.”
But Samantha just grinned. “Okay, I always thought that you being a cop was the closest thing I’d get to excitement, but this . . . this is your life?”
Shamira just hugged her sister. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“Shamira, I realize we’re in the South and everything, but being hugged by my naked sister is just creepy to me.” When she was released, “Why are you sorry? This wasn’t your fault –”
“I should never have brought you into this world. Being near me almost got you killed and almost got Clara killed and –”
“I almost get killed every day,” Clara said, her eyes opening as she sat up. She looked a little pale, even for a vamp, but her eyes were alert. “If you go ape-shit with guilt again, I will slap you silly. And not in the way you like.”
Samantha glanced confusedly over at Clara, who cracked a wry grin before falling back to the ground while someone got her a blood pack to drink.
“I’ll explain later,” Shamira muttered. “Much later. Okay, maybe never.”
Samantha did the eyebrow-cocking thing. “Don’t tell me you’re into the whole spanking thing too?”
Shamira found something else to look at.
“You are?!” Samantha leaned back. “Anything ELSE I need to know about you?”
“I’m going to kill my girlfriend,” she said, glowering at Clara. Clara’s eyes were closed, but she was smiling and sucking blood out of a plastic bag. Shamira stood up, clutching her arm.
“Shamira, what’s wrong with your arm?” Shane asked, stepping closer.
“Nothing I don’t deserve,” she muttered, forgetting for a moment that Shane would still be able to hear her.
He lifted her chin to face him. “Okay, I realize that my relationship with you is not the same as Clara’s, but this is for your own good.” Before her face could even form a puzzled expression, he kissed her full on the lips, letting one hand grab firmly at her ass while doing so. She almost forgot the pain in her arm and the doubt weighing on her mind, her body grinding (with no permission from her brain) against Shane’s body. He was a pretty damn good kisser, though this kind of intimacy was unusual for him.
“Okay, why are you making out in front of your boss in front of your girlfriend?” Samantha asked.
“Oh, she’s done a lot more than make out with him. Okay, because it probably would be uncomfortable to talk about it and to head off further surprises and because I don’t have anything else to do until I can open my eyes again without the world spinning, “Shamira is more than an exhibitionist. She’s a sexual submissive in a communal setting where any dominant can perform any naughty thing their mind can come up with to her, and we’re an imaginative lot. And I promise you, Shamira enjoys it far more than even our other submissives. She has fantasies that none of the rest of us have tried before, and Shane is four-and-a-half centuries old. Did I miss anything?”
Shane shrugged. “That covers about everything, except,” he said, looking at Samantha, “that we all love her very much, and not just in a carnal way. This is our way of life, and Shamira fits in it. We enjoy more than just her participation in the game. We make sure to the best of our abilities that all her needs are met. Right now, she just needs to be reminded that some things happen that she cannot control, and that sometimes when she’s trying to save the world, it’s okay to let the rest of us chip in.”
Samantha snorted. “Good luck with that.”
Shane smiled at her. “Is it the nature of your family to take these little surprises with such calm?”
“Buddy, I ran out of disbelief when my sister turned out not to be dead despite getting shot a dozen times.”
“Buddy?” Shane attempted to feign being offended.
“Yeah, ‘buddy.’ Let her freak out if she wants to. She’ll put herself back together during crunch time. Always has, always will.”
The lord of Atlanta smiled broadly. “That is some of the best advice concerning Shamira that I have ever heard.”
“Hey, I’m still here,” Shamira grumbled. She hated it when people talked about her as if she was not even present.
“Hey,” the sister said, looked at Shamira, “I thought you were dating her? Isn’t that cheating?”
“Monogamy isn’t exactly the thing around here,” Shamira replied shyly, digging the toes on one foot into the ground. “You must be totally freaked out –”
“Damn right, but you’re still my sister and I still love you. Just . . . just lay off the surprises for a bit. I mean, you aren’t secretly like . . . like a psychic too, are you? A mermaid? A Republican?”
“Hey, no need to get –”
“Okay girls, I think we should all retire to the barn for a bit,” Shane interjected. “Let the guards finish clean up.”
“Just let me check on –” Shamira started.
“No,” Shane said. He held up his hand. “Katar can keep an eye on the Sea Serpent, and Aodh will be put to bed so his wing can heal. You,” he said firmly, “need rest as well.”
“But –”
“Tabitha, please take these young ladies to your temporary lab and make sure they let themselves get checked out. Even if you have to tie them to the table.”
Samantha looked annoyed. Clara looked amused. Shamira, in spite of herself, looked a little excited.
———– —————
A week later . . .
———– —————
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? You have the number of where we’ll be and –”
Arthur and Kira were both grinning from ear to ear as Shamira acted like a nervous parent. The two Renfields had once again agreed to babysit the young dragons, along with Katar and his flock, while Lord Stapleton’s house had a special dinner to celebrate their recent success in finally quelling the rebellion from Southern Georgia. The Tribunal, as told by the three present members, had expressed the whole body’s approval to Shane and his people.
The dinner would be held nearby in case Shamira needed to get back quickly, but Archimedes thought things would be able to be kept in control. The spell-casters had come up with talismans that would temporarily allow the dragons’ caretakers to communicate telepathically with the young reptiles, and there was a huge number of guards to make sure they stayed safe.
“Yes, you put it on the refrigerator next to the pizza money,” Kira said with a straight face.
Their vampire mistress looked confused, the scrunched up her face in faux annoyance, then she smiled. “I’m being overbearing, am I?” Despite not wanting to be a mother, she still felt responsible for the two young dragons. She had spent most of the night playing with them, hunting with them, and generally getting them tired out so that they would sleep well. She had managed just enough free time to get a quickie in with both of her human donors and letting them have a taste of the blood that has so greatly improved their lives and fought back the disease they carried.
“It’s all right,” Arthur replied. “Honestly, I don’t think you know what to do with yourself now that no one is trying to kill you.”
“That we know of,” Shamira muttered, adjusting the bra-line on her evening dress again. Somehow, Clara had managed to find one for her that could only barely be considered street legal due to the cleavage shown. It was one of those dresses that showed off a woman’s shoulders to perfection, which is just what her girlfriend had been going for. There was no bra, and her underwear certainly fell under the decorative-rather-than-functional category.
At least she had been spared high heels by managing to convince Clara that they were simply a chauvinistic tool of torture designed by men for women. Of course the same could be said for lingerie, in her opinion, but most lingerie did not threaten to make her trip, thereby making a fool of herself in public. There were some forms of punishment that really did not turn her on that much, hence, the stylish black flats.
“Hmm, lookin’ good, sexy lady,” Renata purred, dressed in her own come-hither evening wear.
“You too. I’ve never seen a girl who could make a brown dress look that good,” Shamira said. Of course, the fact that it was hugging Renata’s rocking body like a second skin made the color pretty much obsolete. “Where’s Clara?”