The Vampire Queen's Servant (32 page)

Her eyes had been so full of
pain when she'd turned toward him. Now she straddled the motorcycle behind him,
cheek pressed to his back and arms around his waist. He drove through the light
traffic of early morning, his face aching, his mind going over the pieces of
the puzzles, the images Carnal had painted, the words she had spoken. Despite
his best efforts to accept and get past it, even the way she'd struck him and
how both vampires had treated him kept intruding.

He'd scoped out several routes
from the mall, and he took the shortcut through a new neighborhood behind the
shopping area. It would connect to a main thoroughfare, but instead of taking
the turn to it, he went a different way on impulse, speeding down a darkened
street with as-yet-unbuilt lots that dead-ended into a service road, currently
barricaded off with an iron pole gate to keep out cars. He swung wide and
bypassed it, taking the pedestrian path through a proposed forest park area. As
they left the tree cover and came out into a clear meadow, the winter grass had
turned silver in the moon-light. He cut his headlight and turned off the engine
so they could look at the tranquil view. When she turned her head so her other
cheek was pressed against his back, he knew she was looking as he was at the
varying shadows playing across the field, since the moon had dipped just below
the tree line. She kept her arms around his waist as he braced his feet on the
ground on either side of the bike.

He could hear nothing but his
own thoughts, and realized there was a sense of "other" when she was
in his mind. Just a shadow, like when she was following him around the house.
It made him feel alone, knowing she wasn't in his mind right now, and yet she'd
only marked him an hour or two ago. It made him wonder how Thomas had borne the
loss after having it for so long. He breathed in the night air, letting the
tranquility of the meadow, the sound of crickets and the feel of her arms
around his chest soothe and steady him. Taking one of her hands in his own at
last, he kissed her knuckles, then held them on his thigh, warming her cold
fingers against his own body heat. He wasn't cold at all despite his dampness.
She was, though, and he wondered if it was caused by more than her normal low
body temperature.

He felt that shadowy presence
enter into his awareness and tested his theory.
Would he be out here?
Watching us
?

"No." She spoke then,
as if knowing he wasn't quite up to long strings of dialogue in his head yet.
There was a dry note to her voice. "Carnal is allergic to nature. He's a
made vampire. Rex was his sire. Born and bred in the city, not connected to the
earth at all. Probably because he senses it's going to open up one day so the
bowels of hell can claim him."

Good.

Tugging on her hand, he
encouraged her to dismount, seeing her arch look at his one-word answer to
Carnal's current and potential future whereabouts. One hand slid from him as
she complied, though he retained her other and she didn't pull free or let go.
He swung his leg over and walked her into that meadow. The straw-colored grass
as fine as a woman's hair, gold in summer but now shining silver, feathered
against their legs, whispering. When he stopped, he turned her to face him. Her
eye color was almost a pale sea green in this light. He was glad she'd left off
the wig. The wind had dried her hair somewhat, but it was snarled and not
smooth around her face. He saw the ghosts in her face, the strain around her
mouth. She looked almost mortal.

The desire to withdraw from him,
to avoid his questions, filled her eyes. Before she could back away, he put his
hands on her shoulders, saying nothing, and kissed her.

Not the hard, passion-driven
kisses they'd shared until now, infused with dark images and violence. There
was a pleasure in that, but this was a different pleasure, a gift he could
offer to her.

Her mouth was soft, yielding.
She leaned into him, her hands resting on his hips as she kept her face
completely still, her eyes half closed as he spread light kisses on her lips.
The top, then the bottom, the corner of her mouth, one eyelid then the other.
Her cheek. Next to her ear, where when he started to nibble, her hands closed
into fists on the waistband of his jeans. Her fingers slid inside to caress his
skin at his waist, finding his hip bones then moving around to the sensitive
curve of his buttocks, for she preferred him not to wear underwear. He moved to
her neck as he found her flesh as well, palming the small of her back, thinking
of the tattoo there and tracing the rougher feel of it. She made a murmur of noise,
telling him his fascination with it had made her more aroused in that area. So
he lingered, teasing it a bit longer until he took the hem of the T-shirt and
brought it over her head, leaving her like him, standing just in a pair of
jeans, since she'd worn no bra beneath the snug shirt. It had the softness of
worn cloth, a tiny tee probably meant to be a sleep tank, but he'd particularly
liked it for her, the "not everyone is a morning person" motto. She
looked as cute in it as the sleeping kitten on the front.

"Jacob. I am over a
millennium old. I am not cute."

He smiled against her skin.
"You are to me. Stop listening to my thoughts." Dropping to one knee,
he worshipped her breasts with his mouth, his hands, his eyes. Every touch
reverent, designed to create a quiet, yearning arousal, a mode just short of
climax where the sweet edge of desire could be ridden forever. While he might
die of frustration from such a reality, he knew it would be heaven to her, and
he wanted to give her heaven.

She rewarded him, cupping his
face, her fingers following where she'd struck him, soothing as he nuzzled
between her breasts, pressing them together with his hands so he could lick the
valley in between, tease the nipples with his thumbs in slow strokes. A sigh
left her, her body leaning further into him, the tension slipping off her like
a cloak falling to the forest floor. But here, it was all moonlight and silver,
the pale gleam of her skin like cream. Her fingers trailed along his bare wide
shoulders, learning every point of bone, the straps of lean muscle.

He opened the jeans, guided them
off her legs as she increased her grip on his shoulder, bringing her other hand
to his hair. He could tell she liked his hair, the way she so often played with
it, watching the reddish brown threads drift through her fingers. He liked
feeling her touch there, for it was more spontaneous than some of the other
ways she touched him. Not the calculated seduction moves wrapped up in the
things she felt were so important for him to understand about the etiquette of
their relationship. This moment was just them. That was the way he wanted to
keep it. Forget about what had just happened, or what might happen after they
left the park.
Give me this, my lady
. Moments like this would make
those moments easier to bear.

He kissed the line of her lower
abdomen, hip bone to hip bone, small touches of his tongue tracing the line of
skin over the low rise of the panties, his chin rubbing against her pubic bone.
She made a noise of need and he could smell her desire as he laid his hands on
both of her thighs, holding her as he stimulated her further. He remembered
that first night when she'd marked him with the slick dew from her cunt. His
legs, stomach, cock, chest. Would three centuries be long enough to make sure
that he'd kissed every inch of her?

But she'd said she wouldn't give
him the third mark. And if he couldn't convince her otherwise, he'd have even
less time to be sure his lips had touched every part of her, over and over
again.

Lifting his gaze to her face, he
hooked his fingers in the panties and eased them down her legs. Left them at
her ankles as he bent his head and licked her clit.

Her hand convulsed on his
shoulder, a lock of his hair trapped beneath her fingers, tugging on his scalp
as her body jerked. He did it again, those slow licks on the clit hood with her
legs not yet spread enough to get his head all the way between them. He kept
his hands on her thighs to tell her he wanted her to stay that way for a few
moments longer. He nuzzled her when she bumped against him impatiently, and her
nails dug into his skin. She'd draw blood one way or another, for it was her
way. He was learning that much. He didn't want this to be about anything she
had to do for someone else. He didn't want her to have to make any decisions.

"Just feel," he
murmured. Rising, he slid his arms around her waist to lift her, so the last
garment fell to the meadow floor and she was fully, blissfully naked against
his half-clad but tautly aroused body. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders,
she pressed her face into his neck. He could feel her need for this, to lose
herself. As he held her in the tight, quiet embrace, she drew in a deep breath,
her nostrils flaring against his skin as she inhaled his scent. Her bare feet
brushed against his jean-covered calves, goading a fierce surge of reaction in
his chest. He would do anything to protect her, to keep her happy.

Maybe it didn't make sense to
the whole world, his brother, even himself. Despite her savagery, her cruelty,
he felt whole, complete when she trusted him like this. There were no questions
now. This was where he was meant to be, the meaning and importance of his whole
life held in his arms. Perhaps it was like the first moment when a mother saw
her baby. There would be terrible pain. The child often would do everything he
or she could to shake that love. But that kind of love was steadfast,
inarguable. That was the point, the clear path.

"Jacob—"

"Sshhh. Just let me love
you, my lady."

Shifting, he laid her down on
their clothes cushioned beneath by the soft meadow grass. Spreading her hair
around her, he brought a handful of it to his lips, brushing it there, then
over his eyes, his face, loving the feel of it as she watched him, her hand
stroking his shoulder. Her other hand touched his knee as he squatted next to
her supine form, trailed along the inseam of the denim. Taking her time making
her way up his thigh until she reached the hard evidence of his desire,
constrained behind the' zipper. He rose, her hand trailing downward to his knee
as he shucked off the garment. Tossing it on the pile of her clothes, he looked
down at her. Her hand had come back to rest on his bare knee now, her eyes
traveling up his body, lingering on his turgid cock, the weight of his balls.
She'd required him to shave around his genitals for her, and her eyes
registered her approval of the closely trimmed pubic area even as she
appreciated the line of hair she'd wanted him to keep at his stomach and the
light thatch over his chest. Finally, her eyes lifted to his face.

Even with the desire in her face
he could feel the need behind it. She wanted, badly. Now. He was hers. All
hers.

He heard that thought as clearly
as if she'd spoken it. Without further hesitation, he dropped to one knee next
to her, laid his hand on her thigh and spread her legs, feeling as if he were
opening an angel's wings to reveal the heart of life and its meaning. Easing
over her, he felt the brush of her thigh as she raised it, touching his bare
hip. She framed his face with her hands as he lowered himself to kiss her,
bearing his weight on his arms as he slid slow and deep within her. Easy, so
easy.

"Aaahhh…" That soft
breath from her again. He closed his own eyes, the feel of her wet pussy
closing around him in a moment too sacred not to be met with an attitude of
devout prayer. He felt her amusement with the thought, mixed with a wave of her
own desire. He smiled as well, opening his eyes as he began to move.

He was a well-endowed man. It
had never seemed a thing of much consequence to him, except it saved him from
locker-room ribbing and he was able to give pleasure to the women who took joy
in it. But as she arched and gasped, he filled her tight channel and was glad
to be able to give her that gift.

Her nails sliced him anew, so
that he increased the power of his strokes, his desire rising. Her lips parted
so he couldn't resist bending and covering them with his own. She met him with
a hard kiss, her tongue seeking his, her hands now on his head, gripping his hair
as her lower body lifted and fell, increasing the power of the impact as they
came together more rapidly.

"Yours, my lady," he
muttered, echoing her thoughts, and growled as she raked him from shoulder to
buttocks, her heels clamping over his hips.

Mine
, she agreed, the jade eyes locking with his. Her hand was between
them, now resting on the mark over his nipple, which was swollen and stinging
like fire, so when she reared up and placed her mouth over it to suckle on him,
it speared shards of aching pleasure through him. Her hands gripped his ass,
fingers rocking him against her as her hips rose and dropped, driving them
higher.

Come for me, Jacob.

You first, my lady. 'Tis not
a battle. Give me the gift of seeing you come while I still have a scrap of sanity
to enjoy the sight.

"I can feel your cunt tight
like a fist over my cock." He whispered it, lying down on her body, his
mouth against her ear as he held her pinned to the ground. He slowed his
strokes to rub with excruciating small movements against her clit while she
quivered spasmodically beneath him.