The Vampire Queen's Servant (51 page)

Brash, impulsive
… Tara's words came back to her, and all Lyssa could think was,
"Thank God." He knew her power, but it still didn't stop him from
these impossibly forward moments she welcomed like a drug. Somehow they carried
her away from a need to control everything, to worry about his place and her
place…

Putting his hands on either side
of her face, he held her as he kissed her, caressing her neck, making her need
him inside her suddenly, desperately. Reaching in between them, she found his
jeans and opened them, his lower body lifting to allow her to move them down to
his thighs. She moved her hands to herself, but he guided them to his
shoulders, coaxing her to let him be the one who gathered her skirt, bringing
her bare skin in contact with his hard stomach, the thrust of his cock, the
feel of crumpled denim next to her calves. He murmured a sound of appreciation
as he only found her beneath the cloth. His hands were sure as he took her down
on him, holding her steady. He slid deep into her with the torturously
pleasurable ease of watching a sunset melt on the horizon, the heat spreading
out, the beauty of it taking over and surrounding all the senses.

Oh God, he was perfect. She
wished she could let him into her mind to tell him… and then she did. She gave
him the images in her head, letting him see how she was seeing him, how she was
feeling him, wanting him… harder. Wanting him whispering to her, all barriers
and rules gone, at least at this level.

He pulled the pins from her
hair, letting them clatter to the floor as he gripped her hair, used it to pull
her down on him even more powerfully, his eyes darkening, pupils widening as he
drank even more of her in.

"Fuck me," he
demanded. "Fuck me."

God… yes
. That was what she wanted, that guttural desire that was all hers.
A natural part of him to take over a woman, held in check as he served her
until she tore off the bridle as she did now, giving him his head and feeling
all that power surging under her, wild and unfettered as it was meant to be.

"I'm going to make you
come, my lady," he growled, his hands dropping to seize her hips, forcing
her down on him, her clit smacking against his pubic area each time, a blow
that shuddered through her system even as he stretched her further, took her
deeper, widened her thighs to open up her cunt, bring the labia and clit in
closer contact with his hot skin. "Fuck you until you're screaming my
name, until none of it matters. Until you know you're mine. That you can trust
me with everything, forever."

His
. It was insane. But she felt so intertwined with him now, she
didn't have any energy to argue, could only ride as he was compelling her to do
with the grip of his hands, the jerk and thrust of his hips. The orgasm swelled
up hard and fast and still he was taking her down in those relentless strokes,
spreading her wide. He curled his arm around her waist as she began to climax,
pulling her down with one arm as he found her clit with his thumb, held her
slightly off of him and used his hips to piston into her, holding her immobile
as he worked her, in and out, his thumb working that tiny bud of flesh. The
climax battered her as she writhed, holding tightly to his shoulder, one hand
gripped in his hair as the pressure became too overwhelming and she screamed as
he said she would.

With a sound of fierce triumph,
he shot his seed into her, his powerful shoulders flexing under her hands, his
head pressing down against her sternum. She held her jaw to him, biting down on
her lips as she hoarsely cried his name, whispered it as her cries became
whimpers and her clutching hands eased into short, jerky movements on him. To
stroking, light touches of amazement.

When he leaned back on the sofa,
he framed her face in his hands again, keeping her balanced on his loins. The
dinner, the things she'd told him over and over… the broken arm. Those were the
things that were supposed to make sense. This was supposed to be confusing. But
right now it was just the opposite. The possession by the fire, this, every
time he smiled at her or kept on serving her even as he rebelled against her…
those things were all so clear, though she couldn't describe or encapsulate
them with words to explain exactly
what
was so clear.

"My lady?" With a half
smile of exhaustion, he tapped her forehead then drew her down so she was
comfortably wrapped in his arms. "Turn it off. Let's watch the movie
together."

"I'll watch the movie, and
you'll fall asleep," she said against his skin. His laughter rumbled
against her cheek.

"You're likely right about
that. I guess I'll just have to trust a mere lass to keep me safe while I
sleep, no?"

The affected brogue came easily
to him, and made things shiver up her spine even as she snorted.
Mere lass
.
"Yes. I'll keep you safe. I promise."

He was silent for a moment, then
startled her with a drowsy comment. "It was curious to me that you didn't
know about the soft-shoe, my lady. I guess I expect you to know
everything."

She rubbed her face against his
chest. "Weren't you listening the other night, Sir Vagabond? Just because
I'm as old as I am doesn't mean I've reached this state of all-encompassing
wisdom where I just sit on the top of a mountain soaked in enlightenment. Good
for you, too, because you'd go insane with the inactivity." When he
chuckled, she closed her eyes at the thrill it gave her to feel him vibrate
against her body again. "I know a lot of things by experience humans will
never live long enough to understand, including yourself. But one thing I've
learned is we don't overcome our nature. It's so much a part of us, I'd say
it's maybe half of our souls."

When Bran raised his head, she
looked at the dog, wishing she could have his simple acceptance of life.
"If our nature is to want to love and be loved," she said softly,
"we don't overcome that, get past it. On the same note, I could live ten
thousand years and not understand why we do the things we do to each
other."

She waited for his response, but
his even breath told her he had succumbed in her embrace, the taking of his
blood and the climax too much to keep him conscious. He'd drifted off on the
soothing notes of her voice, trusting he'd not come to any harm with her.

When the total lack of sense she
was using could well be the death of him.

If she dared, she would have
said more.

Or why, knowing I shouldn't
have you at all, I want you so much
. Reaching up,
she touched his face, brushing his brow.
All the wisdom in the world
doesn't make me immune to the way you desire me
.

With regret she rose and covered
him with a lap blanket, leaving him to dream alone. Though her mind mocked her,
she had to keep making the attempt to teach him what being a servant to a
vampire queen truly meant. Her heart called her a coward, running from her
desperate wish to stay in those arms all night long. Maybe even beyond that.

But they had to get through the
Council Gathering.
She
had to get through it. If nothing else, she'd
at last acknowledged she would need Jacob to do that. It was time to focus on
what needed to be done. Time was too short to indulge her heart.

He hadn't seen her directly for
several days, but Jacob tried to accept it, rationalize it. She was fighting
her own feelings for him. Therefore, in an odd way these repetitive absences
were gratifying. Frustrating as hell, yes. Particularly when he felt her
presence so close it was like the yearning left in the aftermath of an erotic
dream.

Oh hell. He wished he were as
stubborn as she thought he was, too stubborn to let any doubts filter into his
mind and heart. He couldn't help thinking about her words, things she'd said
and what she didn't say. The things that had happened during the short time in
her service. Maybe she could influence his mind, and she was using this absence
and her ability to manipulate his thoughts to make his doubts build, because
one thing in particular kept needling his consciousness.

Her conflict, the physical and
emotional pain she seemed to be confronting. Was he contributing to it?

It was as if they were back on
that damn merry-go-round, or maybe they'd been on it the whole time, circling
around, again and again, dealing with the same conflicts and issues. He'd had
his sense of himself challenged over and over. What he wanted, what he would
endure to have it, whether his willingness to do that was right or wrong. That
had been his focus. How
he
was handling things. But now all the things
Gideon had told him, all the flaws in his character repeatedly pointed out,
rose more prominently in his mind as each day passed.

What about her? What did she
really need?

She'd said it. So had Tara, even
Carnal. Every time a vampire was around him, his formidable Mistress included,
he felt swamped by their years of knowledge, so much greater than his. Their
surety, based on experience, for what was right and true.

Not suitable to be a servant
. Thomas had been sure, but with all the debris between now and his
memories of his time with Thomas, the certainty the man had instilled in him
was flagging. Had it been the desperation of a sick and dying man, hoping a
coincidence had given him a way to perform one last significant service for his
lady? Jacob thought of Lyssa lying in the hallway, seeking her own death. The
anger he'd evoked in her, the frustration. Had she accepted him or had he
forced the issue?
Was
he the best man to be her servant? Yes, she had
a will of iron, but the Irish were stubborn enough to wear down iron.

It even crossed his mind that
the compulsion to be with her could just be the pathetic cliche of a human
drawn to a vampire's magnetism. Maybe he'd just been trying to spin the elusive
threads of a wishful dream into the fabric of reality.

On the third night, he lay on
the grass of her back lawn, staring up at the stars in the night sky. A child
had told the emperor he was naked. A fool had brought a king back from despair
by the simplicity of his worldview. He'd chosen to accept the role of human
servant to Lady Lyssa because his gut had told him it was where he was supposed
to be. The moment he'd seen her at Eldar's Salon, he'd known it with a deep
conviction he couldn't shake even now. He'd known it at the bullfight, though
he hadn't known what to call the compulsion then.