Bound by the Vampire Queen (52 page)

“It is my choice.” She repeated it, her other hand moving to his face in the black, but he knew what her expression was, could tell only by her voice, the way he knew everything about her body language, her emotions, her cravings and darkness.

He swallowed. “Yes, my lady. All choices, when it comes to my life, my will , are yours.” She was feeling a Mistress’s pleasure in his words, a Mistress’s craving that surged to the forefront, no matter the carnage they’d left behind, or how weak she felt, what she’d been through. It was not just the nature of the vampire, but the nature of the woman herself.

The superior strength and quickness, those powers she’d given him with her turning, they would now reside within her once again, when she reached full strength. While he could mourn those abilities to protect her, and there would be times his alpha nature would deeply regret their loss when he wanted to resist her attempts to be too much the Mistress with him, he knew this was how it was meant to be. She’d tilted the universe to save him, and the universe had been kind enough to allow it.

But now it was returning to how it was meant to be.

“Please, my lady. Lyssa.”

Her fangs eased in, a hum in her throat, an emotional sound echoed in his aching heart.

I’ve missed this, Sir Vagabond. Feeding from you as a vampire.

I’ve missed it as well, my lady.
And he had. There in the desert world, he’d almost begged her to take the precious time to reinstitute that mark.

I like it when you beg, Jacob. You know this.
“But I also know your heart.” She slid her fangs out to tease him a bit as she spoke, pricking his skin. “I feel that emptiness, calling to me. I want that bond as well, enough to make me hesitate, to be sure you’re sure. You say it is my choice, and I
will
agree it is, for you long ago surrendered to me as your Mistress, but I will ask you to say it one more time.”

“I will do more than that, my lady.” Lifting her hand, he placed it upon his chest, over his heart, and spoke the oath he’d taken under Thomas’s training.

The oath he’d spoken the night he’d been given fifty lashes, part of the Ritual of Binding to a Vampire Queen.

“I am sworn to your service. Compel ed by absolute loyalty, I safeguard your well -being before my own or any other ties of family or friendship. I swear it by the giving of my blood to you and before all of divinity, may my life be cursed and my soul be damned if I speak false or ever betray the vow.” She pressed her fangs back into him again then, and this time he felt the release of the serum. He made himself hold still for it, even though he wanted her so badly. He wanted to touch her, to press her body back down under his, reinforce that oath, this re-marking. The craving was so fierce he wondered if he’d somehow retained that ceaseless vampire carnality.

Sexual drive is still very strong in a third-mark, Jacob.
A touch of humor, coupled with something deeper, moved through her.
Plus, you have always had a delicious, natural abundance of it.

Lyssa slid a hand over her servant’s chest. Her servant. One taste of her blood away from being her full servant once again. She had to admit it… she’d been a vampire for a long time, and though her Fae blood was an integral part of her, this felt more like her real self. In the end, perhaps she was more a vampire with Fae powers, than a Fae with vampire ones. It was good to feel that, to know that. To understand more about who and what she was. To feel a true sense of that, the power and strength of it, for the first time in several years. Even if she was otherwise a bit on the weak side… at the moment.

Lying back on the forest floor, she drew him down upon her again. “Brace yourself over me, Jacob,” she commanded in a husky voice.

He pressed his palms into the earth on either side of her. In this utter darkness, where neither had the ability to see, it was even more intimate. Though she always liked the pleasure of seeing him, touch had its own special benefits. Opening his laced trousers, she slid her hand over his cock, thick and ready in her hand. It was already turgid from her marking him, the significance of that having its effect on him. It had moved her deeply, how important it was to him, how much he wanted that mark reinstated, to the point it had almost panicked him, not having it. She understood, because she experienced the same feeling, knowing it wasn’t there.

The leggings she wore were in tatters, so it was easy enough to slip out of them, guide him into her.

“At my pace, my servant,” she whispered, and he obeyed, holding back all that delicious strength as she took him slowly to the hilt, then drew him down upon her. His elbows came to rest in line with his palms, surrounding her. He didn’t like putting his full weight on her, always worried about her comfort, but she let him see in her mind now that he was not causing her any harm, only pleasure. She wanted his weight as she tilted her head back, guided his mouth to her throat, that delicious feeling of a Goddess nurturing her lover, even as she took him in her body.

It reminded her of the ritual she’d witnessed with Tabor and Rhoswen the previous night.

Drink from me, Jacob. Make the mark complete.

He’d remembered how to use his canines, how to bite strong and not hesitate, using the second-mark strength to be decisive about it. Her pussy rippled around him as he did it, welcoming him. During that fight before the portal opened, though the two of them were well coordinated in battle, their mind communication aligned, it wasn’t the same as a third mark. She’d felt that absence keenly, a knife in her lower vitals as much as it was for him.

It swept through them both, that disorienting power and heat, the wash of energy that momentarily locked their bodies together in its burn. The third-marking bound his soul to her. She could dive as deeply into him as she wished, owning every part of him, every molecule of blood, every muscle, every thought, every wish, every feeling. It required, no, demanded a level of trust unknown in any world.

Human, vampire or Fae. Only vampires and servants had this potential, because once the bond was made, a servant had no choice but to learn to accept it. However, those like Jacob who took the step into that unknown territory willingly, who embarked on that journey, and the vampires who appreciated that leap of faith—a leap ironically that they themselves, as Dominants, did not often have the same ability to take—had a relationship like no other.

As she felt that bond again, she exulted in it, revitalized in a way that might be deceptive, given her many hours in the desert world, but she would accept it nevertheless. She knew he’d miss the ability to protect her to the level that being a vampire had given him, but he didn’t realize he’d protected her more than any male who’d ever been in her life.

Most of the time, she could take care of herself physically. It was on the emotional terrain she’d always had to defend her own ramparts, guard against ambushes. She’d never been able to relax certain parts of herself enough to fully love. He’d given her that, her brave, reckless Irish knight.

She squeezed down on him then, holding him banded in her arms as she lifted her hips, took him deeper.
Give me pleasure, Jacob. Give me everything.
His back was already healing, the power of a third-marking.

He licked the wound on her neck, suckled her there, then moved up to her lips, letting her taste her blood on his mouth. Slipping a hand under her nape, he held her to deepen the kiss, then braced his hand next to them to obey her, beginning to thrust, slow, easy, then harder, reinforcing the fact they were alive, bonded, unable to be separated. She gasped into his mouth, her arousal building so quickly it startled her. Jacob had once made the joke that a half-dead vampire could still fuck a person to death before they gave out, and she remembered it now, gloriously. Vampire or no, Jacob could make her body sing like no other lover she’d had.

Careful, my lady. You know how full of myself I can get.

Duly noted, Sir Vagabond.
She put her smile against his temple, a smile that became a straining, parted-mouth cry as he pushed her up and over the wall of her climax, falling with her only when she gave him leave to do so, something he’d always done, even as vampire.

He was her devoted knight, serving her to the last reserves of his soul.

Chapter 19

THEY emerged from that darkness into a Fae morning. Since Jacob had explained the sun issue to her, it didn’t make her recoil. Instead, she stopped, drew in the scent of the morning air and lifted her face to the warmth, closing her eyes. “I'll miss this as well.”

“Maybe if this liaison thing works out, you'll be able to visit again.”

“Rhoswen will probably change the environment so I'll be toasted the next time I step into this world.”

“True. Queens can be a bit vindictive that way.” She sent a narrow glance his way. He was resting on his heels at a stream edge, trailing his fingers in the water, mesmerizing a small group of fish with large purple eyes and iridescent pink tails. Now, though, he straightened, came to her side. “Looks like we have a visitor.”

Keldwyn reined up, two horses following obediently in his wake, mounts from Rhoswen’s stable. “Well met, Lady Lyssa,” he said. “It appears you succeeded.”

His expression remained bland, despite her appearance. She was filthy and bloody, her snarled hair was coated with a fine layer of sand from the desert world. She wore the cloak Jacob had brought with him, covering the tattered and bloodstained tunic and leggings.

“That remains to be seen. I’ve yet to see Rhoswen.

Is she out of the mourning period?”

“Yes, as of a few hours ago. You just made the three-day window.” At Jacob’s puzzled look, calculating, Keldwyn shook his head. “It’s impossible to predict the rate of Fae time between magical portals.”

“I expect she would have stretched her deadline if she thought she’d still get what she wanted.” But Lyssa’s dry tone turned to something entirely different then. His lady still had the ability to cool the temperature around her, a warning of her temper a man would be a fool not to heed. And Keldwyn was not a fool. Lyssa stepped closer, leveling a hard gaze on him.

“My father’s crime was
love
. Loving a vampire, getting her with child. How could anyone but a pack of… monsters feel that desert was a just punishment?”

“In your own world, what punishments have been handed out to vampires or servants who have loved one another unwisely?” Keldwyn shifted his gaze to Jacob, then back to her. “It is often not a fair world, Lady Lyssa. But love persists, in all its foolishness, doesn’t it?” Keldwyn dismounted then, offered her a hand. “Can I help you on your mount, escort you to the queen?”

Lyssa ignored the hand, though she did close the three steps between them. “His death destroyed something in you, didn’t it?”

For a long moment, Keldwyn said nothing. Jacob felt the magic the Fae Lord carried within him shift the air around them uneasily, as if she’d stepped on the trigger for a mine. A tiny muscle flickered at the corner of one dark eye. When Keldwyn spoke, his tone was so even it was like a thread pul ed perilously taut.

“Yes.”

The power of that one word, the pain behind it, was enough to have Lyssa’s eyes softening. She laid a hand on his face, a brief touch. He stayed entirely still, a dangerous animal who didn’t trust himself, then she nodded, stepped back. “Have you seen Catriona?”

His jaw tightened. “That is hardly your concern.”

“No. But it is yours. Since she’s behind you, you may want to address it.”

It was a rare moment to see Keldwyn startled. He twisted around. The dryad stood at the edge of the clearing. Her short dress of gauzy layers looked like pale blue and green leaves. Tiny shimmers of light sparkled over it, reflecting the same in her wings, soft flickers. Her brown hair was down, waving around her face, her thin face and large eyes young, vulnerable. She looked like a deer that might bolt, torn between trepidation and need.

Leaving Keldwyn standing there, Lyssa moved toward their two horses. Jacob followed to lift her onto the white mare’s back. As she adjusted her seat to straddle the mount, freeing her cloak, Jacob swung onto the blood bay next to her. Keldwyn and Catriona had not moved, regarding one another silently.

“We'll see you at the castle, Lord Keldwyn,” Lyssa said. As they moved out of the clearing, his horse snorted, but faithfully held his position near his master. Catriona’s gaze flickered briefly to them.

The dryad gave Jacob a nod, Lyssa a glance, and then she was back to holding that unspoken, emotional communication with the Fae Lord.

“It’s like the Dr. Seuss book,” Jacob said, his voice pitched low.

“The one where the two characters refuse to step around each other, and stand there for decades while civilizations rise and fall around them?” At his surprised look, Lyssa shrugged. “I like Dr. Seuss.” When she paused at the forest’s edge, Jacob reined in and they both looked back. One more heartbeat of still ness, and then Catriona was moving, running across the clearing on dainty feet, her wings lifting her in graceful, urgent bounds of motion. Keldwyn stood motionless until the last moment, when abruptly he stepped forward as if he’d broken out of ice. He barely got his arms open before she hit his chest. He was braced for her, though, his arms wrapping hard around her. Even at this distance, they could tell the male was trembling from head to toe, so hard he went to one knee, holding her folded against him like a ragdoll.