The Vampire Queen's Servant (14 page)

Jacob remained in the kitchen
while she escorted Mr. Ingram to his limo. He wasn't sure what to make of all
the images she'd put in his head, all the feelings she'd stirred in him in less
than one night's time. Whether it was emotional overload or something else he
didn't know, but he realized he needed to shut the tornado of thoughts down.
Put them in a room where they might work out to some kind of sense next time he
opened the door to look at them.

So he took an orange out of the
fruit bowl and began to roll it across the table top between his callused
palms. Back, forth. Back, forth. A simple mind-clearing exercise ironically
taught to him by Gideon to help him fight vampires, to combat their
overwhelming physical and mental presence.

When she returned, he was still
doing it. As he lifted his head, he saw she was looking at his wrists, which
still bore the light imprint of the manacles. She wet her dry lips, making
something tighten in his chest. But he watched her, waiting for her to make the
next move. Trying to hold on to a sense of calm.

She moved around the island.
"How did you get free?"

"If I tell you that, my
lady, you'll know all my secrets. I won't be able to employ the same tactic to
get free again."

She stopped, a foot between
them. Shifting on the stool so he faced her, he released the orange and laid
one arm on the counter, his other hand braced on his thigh in an open, casual
pose he was sure she knew was deceptive. A bowstring drawn as taut as he was
could send an arrow to the moon.

"So does it get you off,
playing the all-powerful Oz?" he asked.

Placing her hand on one of his
knees, she exerted pressure until he widened the space between them. She moved
in, her gaze on his face. "Is that what you think? That this is about
ego?"

"It's got to be, in one
form or another. You want me to hand mine to you on a platter."

"I want you to let go of
it, so it doesn't stand between me and the rooms of your soul." She blinked.
Once. "There's a pleasure in that, I'll not deny it. But there's more to
it." When she cupped his jaw, Jacob couldn't help the tension in his neck,
resisting the movement. "If you don't learn how to be submissive, Jacob,
you won't survive in my world. It's not complicated to understand. The only
thing complicated, the only thing to solve, is your refusal to accept it even
after all your training with Thomas."

As Jacob had watched her conduct
her macabre discussion with the driver, he'd noted there was an eerie stillness
to her which became more pronounced as dawn approached. She didn't even shift
when she spoke now, no facial expressions. As if the closer it came for her to
take her rest, the less effort she put into maintaining human characteristics.
Ironically it underscored the point she'd been trying to make about the
difference in their status, from a vampire's perspective. An explanation
echoing in his mind now.

But as he gazed at her, fighting
his simmering irritation, something raw and painful surfaced in her expression,
a sudden flash of anguish too powerful for her to contain. It was a stark
contrast with the blankness of her features, like a slash of red paint against
a white canvas. "I can't bear to lose another human servant," she said.
"Do you understand that?"

Jacob blanketed her fingers with
his own without hesitation then, his heart easing. "I know, my lady. But
obedience is no guarantee. Thomas was far more obedient than I'll ever be, I'm
sure. In the end, he defied your rules. He loved you enough to know when it was
time not to obey anymore."

"So he's dead," she
said flatly. "Exactly my point. He didn't need to be. Your life will
depend on your absolute obedience to my will. Do you at least understand
that?"

"I understand you think
so." He sobered at her frustrated expression. "I told you I offer
myself willingly, my lady. If you'll be patient with me, this isn't something
I'm used to. Being told to—"

"Trust without question?
When your mind and heart are shrieking at you to do something different from
what I'm telling you to do?"

There was no arguing with the
truth. He inclined his head, mouth tight. "I'm not intending disrespect,
Lady Lyssa. In my own defense, you're not telling me everything going on here.
Things I think Thomas didn't know about you."

"You want too much, too
fast. Do you think I don't understand? This would be difficult for most people,
but for a man like you it's almost impossible." She leaned in, breath
touching his face as she spoke. "I've been alive long enough to see every
form of foolish bravery and abject cowardice, Jacob. True submission is not
only the most courageous act a person can commit to another, it's an act of
faith. Of trust. After only a few hours together, you laid yourself on my bed
and let me chain you. That intrigued me."

She softened somewhat, though
she drew her hand away from his. "I make no apologies for anything I
demand. I require the type of devotion most people think only God should be
given." At his startled look, she allowed herself a tight smile.
"God's definition of submission is far more merciful than mine. I want to
keep you alive. God has less concern about which side of the Curtain his
creations are on.

"Don't touch me," she
said as he began to reach for her again. Jacob's jaw hardened, his eyes
flashing, but he obeyed, surprising her. Tilting her head, Lyssa pursed her
lips, blew a soft line of air down the column of his neck and watched the
reaction shiver through him. "Try to offer me everything. Don't move until
I give you permission."

She heard his breath catch in
his throat as he apparently made a conscious effort to breathe deeply, relax.
Slowly his fingers opened as his eyes closed and he gave up his other senses to
the moment, stirring her.

Cradling his jaw still, she used
her thumb now to ease his head to the right so she had a clear path to her
goal. Dropping her other hand, she cupped him, her fingers curving under the
round shape of his testicles, the heel of her hand pressing against his
hardening cock.

She didn't have to do it this
way, but she wanted to make him understand what power she could and would wield
over him.

Exposing her fangs, she aligned
them with the artery she wanted in his throat and applied pressure. Harder,
harder, until she felt the skin give way and his body tighten with reaction to
the pain. Warm blood, warm heat, flooded her mouth. Sustenance. She made a
sound of pleasure, kneading him with her other hand. Releasing the aphrodisiac
through her fangs, she ensured his pain would mix with something worth the discomfort.

Within seconds his fist was
clenched on the counter, his cock leaping full and huge against her touch. He
began to push helplessly against her as she locked her grip around his
shoulders, holding him. Fifteen seconds later she heard his incredulous,
guttural curse against her ear, felt his futile resistance and the vibration of
his harsh groan as his seed spilled, dampening his jeans against her hand. The
orgasm ripped through him like lightning. He was obviously struggling not to
lift his hands as she'd commanded, but suddenly she wanted him to do so.

"Touch me," she
whispered. The words were garbled with her fangs still in him, her tongue
lapping at his skin, nourishing her with the flow of his blood. He heard her,
though.

She'd expected him to grip her
about the waist or hips, the clumsy gropings of a man in the throes of one
dying climax, already starting to climb the hill to the second she would give
him.

He did put his hands on her
waist, fingers digging into her hips, but only to anchor her to him as he
surged up from the stool and turned them. As she wrapped her legs around his
waist, bringing her wet heat against damp denim, the robe fell down her bare
legs, exposing her hips. He slammed her down on the wood counter of the island,
his hands sliding to her thighs, pushing the robe even further out of his way
to grasp flesh. She kept one arm around his shoulders, the other hand on the
side of his neck, holding him as she drank, laving him with her tongue. Tearing
away her panties, he got his hands between them to unfasten his jeans and shove
them out of the way.

She could have stopped him, cut
his legs right out from under him, literally or figuratively, but she wanted to
feel him inside her as she drew in his blood and let it sustain her.

When she felt the tip of him rub
over her clit, his minute hesitation at the moment of irrevocable decision, she
clamped her thighs over his buttocks and drove him into her. She almost wished
she wasn't so wet so his entry would have been rougher, for she wanted to feel
every incremental push forward. However, despite his impressive size he sank
deep and fast through her slickness.

It had been so long, he
stretched her to the point of pain. She welcomed it, arching into his body.

His palms slapped down on either
side of her head on the countertop to keep his balance. He didn't know he
didn't need his balance. She had him. She wouldn't let him fall.

With the clamp of her limbs,
fingers and fangs upon him, she would make sure he had bruises on his thighs
and neck. While she slept the day away, he would finger those places and think
of her, the visible claims she'd put on him. The first of many.

She'd never desired to bond with
someone so quickly. Perhaps it was her prolonged self-enforced loneliness.
Perhaps Thomas had known her needs too well. Perhaps the Three Fates had
intervened because they delighted in driving Lyssa to distraction. Any reason
was less disturbing than this incomprehensible need to be so immediately close
to him that she wanted to meld their souls.

Regardless, the moment Jacob was
buried deep within her, sensation exploded throughout her body. The blood in
her mouth grew sweeter, more vibrant. She took a hard pull instead of a sip,
rewarded with a groan from Jacob as he reacted to the flood of erotic sensation
it sparked. His cock was hard as a ramrod inside her but blissfully much
thicker.

She stroked, pumping her hips as
she stimulated her pussy with it, again and again, using the hold of her legs
to use him as she desired, up and down. Stroke, stroke, that wonderful ridged
head deep inside and the heavy weight of his testicles bumping the tender base
of her ass outside as she tongued his neck, tasted his blood and felt the pure
pleasure of possession. Perhaps even in a small, safe way, the feeling of being
possessed herself, the feel of a man's weight pressing her down.

The orgasm surprised her, for it
had been a long while since she'd had one during sex with a human, no matter
the stimulation. Too often, when she was nourishing herself from a stranger,
she didn't want to feel the emotional emptiness accompanying a physical climax.
Unprepared for the violence of the unexpected release, she increased the force
of her bite, driving her fangs in deeper.

As if her soul suddenly had an
agenda all its own that disregarded the shrieking warning from her mind, she
obeyed its desire and released the precious drops of venom of the first mark
into him. It coursed through a human's veins like a lick of flame. Instead of
crying out from the searing pain, Jacob growled in response, lifted one hand
from the table and cupped the back of her head. From his reaction it was
obvious he knew what she had done. Exultation filled her at his obvious fierce
pleasure in her decision.

He held her there, supporting
her neck and skull with his large palm. The muscles of his other arm strained
as he bore his weight and the movement of hers, helping him rock against her
tight clasp of his body just above the hips. With a primal male sound, he came
again, the heat of him filling her, making her moan against his throat. It was
an agonizingly sweet pleasure, the sensation of blood and seed entering her
from different points.

Even as the orgasm went from
powerful waves to pleasurable ripples, slowing her movements, it took some time
for her fangs to retract. He also rocked to stillness upon her reluctantly, but
he was obviously spent as she drew out the feeding, enjoying the pleasure of
nourishing herself with a willing lover. His body quivered with a shuddering
aftermath, making her convulse with aftershocks. When at last she pulled out,
she licked the wounds, holding pressure there with her lips as she put her
forehead to his jaw, his mouth.

Neither of them spoke or moved
for some time. Lyssa wondered at the feeling of quiet communion. As she finally
laid her head back and he raised his, their eyes met, but she couldn't think of
anything to say. The significance of the moment could not be denied.

On a surge of pure
impulsiveness, she'd given him the first mark. The first step toward making him
hers forever.