Bound by the Vampire Queen (21 page)

“Queen Rhoswen is a creature of the water worlds, a being of ice,” he said, leading Jacob into the main bailey. They were headed toward a stone structure on the western corner, perhaps the temple. Cadr had fallen in behind them. “We must coat most of her lovers in a warming oil to ensure they can perform and that they do not suffer permanent damage by contact with her. As a vampire, you do not have the same physical makeup as a human male. She is intrigued by that and wishes to test the limits of it.”

“A queen who likes to test limits. Something new and different,” Jacob noted dryly.

I heard that, Jacob.
He tuned in to find Lyssa was in the bathing chamber adjoining their room. She was watching, intrigued, as Lorar—on his knees before her—slid his hands under the hem of the T-shirt. As he rose, he brought it over her head. He guided her hair so it tumbled down her back, caressing her hips, her pale, heart-shaped ass.

Patrick took her hand, his other fingers brushing the small of her back as he guided her toward the tub.

His reaction was like having a fire set to his internal organs. Jacob rocked to an abrupt halt, his feet planted against the unexpected violent reaction of his vampire blood. Pure, possessive fury. His fangs shot out, and his fingers dug into the stone wall. He had a glimpse of Arthmael and Cadr’s startled expressions before he closed eyes he knew were turning crimson. Bloodlust, strong and pulsing.

The need to tear, rend flesh… she was
his
. In the vampire world, she might exercise her Mistress side on another male like this without actually being that male’s Mistress. There was a difference between the two, an important one. However, the things he’d known as a human servant, that he’d accepted, meant nothing to his still young vampire blood, no matter the years of her accumulated power heaped on top of it. If anything, that made the moment even more dangerous.

Lyssa…

I am your queen, Jacob. Your Mistress.
Her voice was sharp, urgent. Commanding.
My heart is yours.

Remember that you serve me, and that all of this serves a purpose. You swore an oath to me, and I command you to control yourself, by virtue of my blood in your veins, my mark upon your back.

He fought his reaction. Jacob had the ability to shut down the avenue between their minds, and he’d have to do it if the only alternative was unleashing his homicidal cravings on those around him. But failing to stay alert and present in her mind, failing to be there to protect her if she needed him, was a far worse issue than bloodlust, and that thought helped him find balance.

Jacob took some deep breaths. It was not the first time she’d had attendants, male or female, for her bath. It was just the first time in a while that attendant had not been
him
. She gave herself over to their hands, not as an invitation to seduction, but with the expectation they would perform at her will , as they’d been commanded. Whether or not the Fae queen’s instructions had included that scope, it was difficult for any male not to respond to that regal authority Lyssa projected. Lorar had asked her permission to remove her clothing, and now, Patrick also asked before they moved to the next phase of the bath.

When she agreed, it was after a moment’s pause, as she confirmed he’d brought himself under control.

His fangs were receding, though his fists were still clenched, his body rocking on his toes like a tense wire. Regardless, he began moving forward stiffly with Cadr and Arthmael again. As he did, he watched Patrick bend and lift her in his arms like a doll. When he set her down in a tub full of fragrant water, Lorar picked up a pitcher. He began wetting her hair. As he did, Patrick started singing a bal ad in an excel ent tenor. Putting soap-slickened hands on her shoulders, he massaged the muscles there.

She slid her palms beneath the flower petals in the bath, lifting them up so Jacob could see lavender, yellow and blue colors.

It wasn’t as bad this time, but he still had to fight down another surge when she stood up so they could soap her body from throat to toes. Patrick casually unbuckled and set aside his tunic so he could step into the tub with her. Kneeling, he started with her calves, working his way up with the soap as Lorar worked down from the neck.

Both men were aroused as a side effect of touching a beautiful, wet, naked woman. His lady wouldn’t deny herself the simple indulgence of enjoying the view, studying the thickness and weight of their cocks, the shift of powerful thighs as their palms slid over her throat and breasts, the nip of her waist and her hips. Jacob turned his gaze outward to his surroundings while she did that, to see that they were approaching the small stone structure that did look like a temple, with an archway carved with more runic symbols and a sense of the sacred hovering upon the curves of its architecture. He didn’t close his internal ears, though in the next instance he wished he had.

“I can bring you to climax with my mouth, my lady, if you so desire it.”

Jacob imagined Lyssa’s eyes lingering over Patrick’s broad shoulders, firm mouth and stiff cock as she responded. “How do you find your own climax?”

“The queen’s personal attendants may only have relief at her command, and in the manner she directs. When and how is for her to say. May I pleasure you, my lady?”

Will it get you harder, to see him with his mouth on my cunt, Jacob? His tongue teasing more cries of pleasure from my throat? You’re still hard, aren’t you?

If a thought could have the sound of grinding teeth, it would have.
You know I am, my lady.
He ignored his attendants’ curious looks at his stalking gait. It was all he could do to keep his body moving forward with them.

It provokes you, another male touching me, but it also makes you insane with lust, to see me aroused without being able to touch me yourself.

I know that arouses you further, my lady. Goading and denying your servant makes you wetter and hotter. Sometimes I think it turns you on above everything else, including my poor attempts with tongue, hands or cock.

She made a chiding sound.
Being a vampire has apparently made my servant believe he has the right to be resentful and petulant with his queen. I command you to watch, Jacob. Don’t you dare close your mind to this.

She glanced down at the man kneeling before her.

“Yes. Proceed.”

Lorar set aside the pitcher. As Patrick slid his hands up her slim thighs, the other attendant moved behind her, put an arm around her waist. In one synchronized movement, Lorar lifted her so she was braced comfortably against his chest, her head lying back on his shoulder. Patrick guided her legs over his shoulders, the two of them cradling her between them amid the misty swirls of bathwater.

“We are here,” Arthmael said.

Jacob tuned in to find the interior of the temple was one circular stone chamber, not overly large.

Through an opening in the ceiling, he could see the edge of the yellow moon, a sign that the Fae version of midnight had passed. A stone tablet was in the middle of the room.

“Take off the rest of your clothes,” Arthmael instructed. “Or Cadr can assist you.” Jacob gave Cadr a look that said what he thought of that, but he took off the boots and jeans, tossed them to the Fae. He’d been to enough vampire dinners that he’d learned not to be modest anymore, even with a full erection like now. As a backdrop to the image physically before him, he saw Lyssa arched up against Lorar’s hold, Patrick’s jaw working between her legs, his skill full tongue lapping.

Her arousal unfurled in his mind like heated red velvet and curled lower, tendrils tightening around the base of his cock.

“Stretch out on the table, facedown.” Not easy to lie on a stiff cock, but he managed it.

He saw Cadr note the branded cross at his hip bone before it was concealed. When he turned his head, Arthmael was studying the third mark on his back and the remains of the fifty lashes.

Patrick was eating deep into her pussy now, making satisfying male noises as Lorar continued to hold her, moving with her sinuous rhythm while his companion fucked her with his tongue, teased her clit, licked and suckled that responsive part of her.

Her nipples were hard and tight, begging for attention. If Jacob was there, he could suckle them, just like she liked, and send her over the edge.

He adjusted on the table with a muttered curse, but then he still ed as something changed in his lady’s bath chamber. The mist from the hot bath water shifted, curled. Out of it, floating with easy grace, came two butterflies. Their wings were a striking mix of chartreuse and pink, the tip ends edged with silver. One alighted on her right nipple. At first, the contact was barely noticeable, but then the butterfly started slowly beating its wings, increasing the constriction of its thread-thin legs on her nipple.

She arched up, a harder cry catching in her throat.

Whereas before she’d been taunting him, now she was in need. She reached for him with her mind. She was all female sensual power, loving having two males service her, but wanting that connection with Jacob for the actual moment she’d let a climax sweep her away. She wanted her servant watching her in her mind. Burning to be the one with his mouth on her pussy, or taking her lips in a kiss, cupping her breasts to squeeze and create a different sensation beneath the butterflies’ attentions. Her servant, with his alpha nature raging, his blue eyes fierce, wanting them away from her, wanting to brand her skin with his hands, his mouth, remind her of the pleasure his cock could give her.

He had no clue what Arthmael and Cadr were doing right now. They could be getting ready to stake him, for all he knew. He managed to register that they’d guided his arms out to either edge of the tablet, as well as his legs. When Arthmael started chanting, he sensed what was about to come, but they’d anticipated him as well, holding him down the brief second needed as manacles of pure ice materialized and locked his arms down at four separate points, from wrist to biceps. The same process occurred at his ankles and legs, all the way to the upper thigh. The binding was so close to his crotch, frigid cold pressed against his bal's.

The restraints weren’t a real surprise, but then the stone shifted, his body sinking down into its embrace. Arthmael put his hands on Jacob’s head, turning it so instead of resting on his cheek and jaw, he was staring straight down into stone that had become water. He fought, but he was in no position to resist now. Arthmael held his face in the water until stone became thick, impenetrable ice, molding to his features.

A collar of ice locked over the back of his neck, holding him fast. He couldn’t breathe, the opaque ice a closed mask from his temples to his jaw. Only his hearing had been left unencumbered. His body had been locked into the ice in a similar fashion. If he’d been able to lift up onto his knees, he would have seen an imprint of his body like a child playing in snow. Only this was not so frivolous. Though the nerves in his skin couldn’t be damaged by prolonged exposure to ice, it didn’t make it comfortable. The direct contact was already starting to burn.

While the rest of his front was encapsulated, there was open air on his cock and bal's. Before he could be too grateful for that, there was an alarming cinch around them, the ice closing around the base of his stiff cock and testicles, framing them as they hung free and way too vulnerable beneath the tablet. He let out an enraged noise when a mouth closed on them. Arthmael still had his hand on his nape, so the mouth he was feeling was Cadr’s. A strong, suckling pul like a man would do, then blunt, strong fingers pinching his testicles, stroking the sac, making his ass tighten and his whole body shudder.

“Prepare yourself, vampire. This next part will be painful.”

Having a guy suck his cock was more than painful enough, but when Arthmael began to chant again, he let out a startled grunt, nearly choking when fire burned like an arrow shot through his nipples. He strangled on the pain, since it required a breath he couldn’t take in his airless, dark world.

“We’ve pierced you with a slender but unbreakable rod of ice through both your nipples.

The rod curves around your back and will conform to your upper torso like a tight strap, a sealed circle.” Jacob felt the pressure of the rod against his back, another icy touch, but it couldn’t compete with the pain in his front. He managed to focus on Arthmael’s next words. “This rod allows the queen the pleasure of using the bar as lock point for a tether if she wants to keep you on your hands and knees.” Sadistic bitch. The needlelike pain wouldn’t relent, because none of his appendages would succumb to frostbite and drop off, the way they would for a lucky mortal.

Jacob?

I’m fine, my lady.
She’d been gratifyingly alarmed when everything had gone dark in his mind from the deprivation, but he was able to project what was happening. He guessed he should be grateful for what he’d experienced at vampire gatherings and at the hands of his lady, because this was just a different level of creativity. She knew it as well.

Reasonably assured of his safety, she was already speculating, in that diabolical way of hers, what that ice rod would look like. How he would react to gentle or less gentle tugs on it, distending his nipples, making them raw and more sensitive at once. And damn if her intrigue didn’t make him willing to have Arthmael do his worst. And Cadr. At least her mind was on this, not so much on what Patrick was doing.

If she came, Jacob wanted it to be because what they were doing to him was turning her on beyond all control, no matter how twisted that might be.

What was spurring her arousal now was Jacob’s reluctant awareness of a heated male mouth pulling on his cock like a damn vacuum cleaner—Jesus God, Cadr had a mouth made for porn. But they were preparing him for another queen’s pleasure, and she didn’t like that as much. It was grimly satisfying, knowing they both had some territory issues.

He bit down on another cry in his suffocating darkness as something slick, big and torturously cold was lodged at his anus and then pushed in, no matter how hard he tried to clench against it. Straps were attached to it, and then he was turned over, the ice slab remolding itself to his shoulders, back and ass so he couldn’t expel the invasion. His face tingled painfully at the release from the ice, frost becoming moisture, like perspiration over his skin.