Liaison by Anya Howard Page B

her ankle and to the hem of her gown. I relished the image of well-proportioned legs that were inevitably veiled beneath the fabric.
    “You come without weapon. Do you truly believe it so simple to make amends for the insult of chasing after that female?” Even with the underlying displeasure, her husky voice was sweeter than the best tuned harp. “I should take you now, reap the fruits of thy knowledge, and be done with you!”
    I looked up and saw the tight purse of her mouth. She was as insulted as she was needy for my knowledge.
    “I am a fool,” I declared. “Take my knowledge now—quickly—for what I have done! I do not deserve a moment to worship you.”
    “Yes,” spoke up the son dryly, “even unto tonight has he proved his faithlessness.”
    Griselda’s eyes narrowed and she lowered her foot again. I expected her to question him on what he meant; there was no denial I could give to excuse my actions. But to my surprise, she turned on her son.
    “It was your duty to curb the beast,” she said. “I told you of the poison she was capable of plying into his heart. If there is any to be held accountable here, it is you.”
    The vampire flinched. His head lowered humbly, though I caught the dimmest glint of exasperation in his voice as he said slowly, “Yes, my lady. But you were not there; you did not feel what we felt at his windows when—”
    His words were cut off abruptly by a release in her snug aura. It spilled over us both, a half-visible vapor that in its fury vied to snatch my breath away. It turned on the son and knocked him backward from where he stood. As I struggled to inhale the thin oxygen, her unspoken wrath reverberated through the room. “We have had this discussion before! You will not accuse me, ever! It was insulting enough to have to follow the bitch mortal once. It is not for me to roam these lands unless I choose to roam! You would have me go into mortal land without proper procession like some unrefined peasant? Perhaps it is time I turn you over to these pagan peasants and let them deal with you to the full measure of their boorish delight!”
    The son regarded her inanimate body dispassionately. His eyes were two hollow, wounded black orbs. “No, mother, that is not what I wish. All I meant—”
    A gust of unseen energy knocked him back again, this time so rudely he was pushed to his backside on the floor.
    “I decide what is of consequence. Leave now—inform your brothers I am not to be disturbed. And then you, my presumptuous son, are to wander the province until the approach of sunrise.”
    He looked as crestfallen as a deserted child as he got to his feet.
    At his silence, her voice thundered again, “Go, now!”
    He bowed deeply, then turned and fled out the door. It shut heavily behind him, and looking up at her stony hands, I saw the fingers quicken and felt her contained aura draw itself back into her body.
    But as I dared to meet her eyes, the white-heat anger that had marked her face disappeared. A smile came to her lips, so elegantly severe that my mouth watered to kiss them.
    “Remember this, Marcel Rolant,” she said, “it is I alone who determines what is of consequence. And I alone who determines how my requirements are carried out, and when.”
    Her fine chin raised and she regarded me indifferently. “There will be no easy amends for you. Now, onto your knees, Nocturne Liaison.”
    I went to all fours and languidly kissed her feet. The feel of her toes against my mouth sent a pleasurable ripple down my spine. I readily welcomed it, and envisioned the calves above my brow, the portal of her womanhood between her legs. My desire plummeted and centered into my loins, taking my willed conscious thoughts with it to color my aura. I felt her vampire eyes pore over my pulsing aura, so boldly presented that her narcissistic regard was silently pacified.
    Griselda displayed no reaction as she scrutinized me, but at length she turned and snapped her fingers. I