The Vampire Queen's Servant (29 page)

One additional push, barely a
blink of effort, and suddenly they were not alone. A cadre of teenagers
splashed in, shouting, sending sheets of water at one another. Some of the boys
even scooped up their girlfriends as Jacob had done to hold them in front of
the small shoots of water striking the sculptures, eliciting shrieks and
giggles, giving them the excuse to hold onto the girls even more tightly. Even
one mother with a little girl came in. As her mother held her on her hip, the
child tried to pet the dog, shielding her face with one tiny hand from the
spray of droplets.

The sheer life of it washed over
Lyssa. A moment like this had the nourishing strength of blood. A magic
springing from the source of all magic, like life from a womb. Such a memory
was strong enough to last a decade, making everything horrible seem not so
terrible. Not against the power of this.

Reaching up, she stroked Jacob's
hair from his forehead, enjoying the sleek copper highlights of it, the wet
strands in her fingers, the strong broadness of his forehead, the slope of
cheekbone to jaw. Her fingers slipped down, gripping the neckline of his shirt.
A breath later, she tore it like paper, giving her fingers access to the
pectoral, the nipple drawn hard and tight from the cold. As the water splashed
down on them, he moved them so they were behind the curtain of the fall, a
small area just big enough for the two of them standing close together, the
heavy sheet of water making them disappear from view of the others, closing
them into their own world. He let her go so her body slid down his, though he
still held her fast about the waist with his other hand. When she dipped her
head, he caught her chin.

"No pheromones. Or anything
you release to make it more pleasurable."

"You're already wet, my
knight. You think anyone will notice the stain of your seed?"

Color stained his cheeks, but he
slid his fingers beneath the wig at the nape, into the nest of her pinned hair.
"It's not that, my lady. I want you to know my responses are true
ones." His eyes searched her face, his words stilling everything in her
mind. The roar of the water and the wavering curtain of it behind his shoulders
put them in a place in the universe where there wasn't room for anything else
to intrude. "I want to feel the pain as well as the pleasure of belonging
to you."

Gods, but what the man's words
could do to her. She caught her hand in the tattered neck of the shirt and
completely ripped the front of it, raking him with her nails as she did. In one
movement she turned, slamming him up against the stone behind the fountain. She
was aware of laughter and shrieking behind the wall of water, telling her that
even more people had plunged into the fountain. The residual tendrils of her
magic still spun her web, creating a screen of humanity, a buffer as effective
as the water to keep them from discovery.

She sank her teeth into the left
nipple, deep into the areola, knowing the pain there for a man was
excruciating. He stiffened and arched into her, a hoarse cry coming from his
lips as his hand became a hard fist in her dark locks, tearing the wig away and
bringing her hair tumbling down as he held her locked to him. His other hand
hooked in her back waistband, his thumb pressed against the tattoo she couldn't
see but which seemed to intrigue him so much. His other fingers dug into her
buttock, holding her tight against him as she suckled the hot source of his
life, his heart thundering so close, separated from her by nothing but her own
restraint and a fragile network of ribs.

How many times had she told
herself she would make him wait for that second mark, make him earn it by at
least first putting him through his paces at the planned dinner? And how little
did it mean now, when she had him beneath her hands, the sound of his blood
pumping so close, his heat enveloping her? She knew her lack of restraint was
absurd, inexplicable, as well as she knew she was going to ignore everything
she'd resolved and do it anyway, right here, right now.

She'd said she'd put her second
mark on his thigh, but this was too tempting. Despite the empty scream of
protest from somewhere inside of her, something even deeper let go. As the
blood flowed into her, the secretion flowed into him.

While the first mark burned, the
second was a detonation, convulsing the body as shields and gates to the mind
were destroyed. He bucked against her, gasping as her mind flooded through the
rubble left by the explosion. Fearless, she plunged into the dark tunnel of his
mind the way he had plunged his fingers into her hair to create a bond, an
anchor.

All the inhabitants—thoughts,
people, emotions—surrounded her. Feelings, family, childhood, a tidal wave of
images that would give her everything she wanted to know about him, now and
forever. But right now she had a single purpose, one set of images and
reactions only.

Putting one hand down to cup
him, she wrenched open his jeans to find him enormous, not at all affected by
the cold water. She gripped him, insisting, pumping him. His desire to feel
everything fully notwithstanding, the climax would make the binding easier. But
she also wanted the dark pleasure of his loss of control not just in her hand
but in his thoughts. The base male response during the descent into orgasm,
which was nothing but a morass of primitive words. She wanted the visceral
drive of it, the savagery.

Fuck… fuck her… God… cock…
in her wet cunt… ram it into her…

The muscles of his throat were
working, his whole body shuddering, his hands clamped on her, bruising.

It had not been this way with
Thomas. The second mark had been quiet, almost gentle. She'd been amused by his
scholarly attempts to mark every transition as she pushed through the shields
of his mind. He'd acted almost as if he was going to prepare a paper on it for
a science periodical.

This was pure possession. She
obliterated Jacob's shields, bludgeoned them into tiny pieces that became a
part of the blood she took into her body. From here forward, she could plunge
into this jungle whenever she chose to do so. She knew it would test her. His
thoughts would make her feel things she'd never felt before.

She made it brutal. He was
right. She reveled in the war between his desire to submit and his need to
challenge her invasion. She felt his primitive urge to take back control by
invading her mind as she was invading his. While she knew he couldn't do that
without her permission, she found she didn't know where her mind ended and his
began at the moment.

When she raised her head, he
clamped his mouth over hers, sucking his blood off her lips, using his teeth to
score her as she brought him to violent climax. His hot seed jetted over her
wrist and arm, even the front of her shirt, the warmth contrasting with the
cold shower of water.

She savored the insistent rock
of his body against her as she drained him and he came to a jerky halt. Against
her lips, he cursed her for not letting him fuck her. But even as he did so,
his hands gentled and he raised his head to let his gaze sweep her face. There
was a wonder there, a reverent awe mixed with an expression that made her feel
he was seeing something in herself she'd never seen. Raising his thumb, he
brushed blood off her lip and held it there. Slowly, she licked at his fingers
with the tip of her tongue, feeling like she'd gone from raging lioness to wary
kitten in a blink. These moments, which should be inequitable matches of
physical prowess, kept ending up on a playing field where she wasn't so certain
she was the victor. Or if it was a playing field at all.

The din outside the waterfall
was receding, stern shouts and a whistle indicating mall security was clearing
out the rowdy teens, dispersing them from the fountain. Jacob refastened his
jeans, working up the zipper. Her fingers whispered over his knuckles as he did
it, earning a heated look from him. Taking her hand, he twined it with his a
moment before she freed herself to slide the torn shirt off him. Her palms
molded over the rounded curves of his shoulders, nails pressing into the
muscles of his upper arms. Water beaded on his pale lips and the intensity of
his eyes warmed her as she folded the shirt like a towel and laid it over his
left shoulder, covering the nipple area where she'd bitten him.

She wasn't alone. He was within
and without. As she enjoyed his body, his mind was there, all its rooms and the
thoughts that filled them. A never-ending maze of chambers she could explore to
whatever depths she chose. He'd given her the gift willingly, as much as he
could understand what it was he was offering to her.

Most servants were prepped as
he'd been, but until the mark was actually given, they didn't realize the power
and vulnerability of it. There were vampires so drunk on that power they
plumbed their servant's mind until they drove them mad, goading the rooms holding
dark fears and secrets to the surface, giving the servant nowhere to be private
with his own soul. Since vampires could exchange a similar mark, and she'd
offered it to Rex foolishly, she had a personal insight into the dangers of
such probing. It became a battle of wills to keep him locked out, leaving her
exhausted.

A human did not have the ability
to lock her out once marked, but she was not that kind of Mistress. It was most
often used as a functional link, a way to exchange information over distances
or in front of others. However, as she'd just shown Jacob, depending on the
relationship with the servant, it could become far more. If she chose, she
could invite him into her own inner chambers. Of course, delving into her
deepest chambers might indeed drive him to madness. Her own sanity stayed only
within the barest grasp of her fingertips these days as it was.

Pushing that thought away, she
moved gently among his thoughts without really examining them, just letting him
know she was there. It was enough for now to see the realization of it in his
eyes, feel the tight grip of his hands and let him get used to it.

She'd done the second mark the
way she'd done the first, on pure impulse. Was she losing the battle with her
own will and loneliness? Was her rational need for a servant leveraging her
desire to fully bond with him before he understood what that meant?

No. This was it. Two marks. No
more.

Gods, please help me keep
that resolve. If you will not do it for me,' do it for him.

He'd parked his bike near the
opera house earlier in the week and hitched back to a convenience store where
he was supposed to meet Ingram in a regular car. From there the man was going
to drive him the rest of the way back to Lyssa's house.