The Vampire Queen's Servant (24 page)

He set up his tools for her in
the sunroom. She called it the moon room, since she only visited it on moonlit
nights like this. The glassed area gave her a view of her rose garden and the
statue in the middle, a fountain with water sprites cavorting around Pan.

"Doesn't he seem a little
overendowed?" Jacob glanced toward the large appendage on the bronze
statue.

Lyssa bit back a smile.
"Are you envious, or worried you might suffer in comparison?"

Jacob snorted. "An elephant
would suffer in comparison. I suspect most women would run screaming if they
saw that."

"Some women are aroused by
pain." She took a seat as he gestured her to it. "Some men as well.
You found pleasure in the pain I inflicted on you, that first night."

She'd taken an hour alone to
re-marshal her defenses while he prepared. When she walked away tonight she
intended to have the upper hand. But he'd changed into the tight hose he'd worn
at the Eldar. No shirt and bare feet, recreating everything as she could wish
it. He'd set up an occasional chair for her comfort across the table from the
stool he'd chosen for himself. The chair did not recline as the one at the
Eldar did, but would provide her a more relaxed seat while he did her nails.

He'd risen the moment she'd come
into the room, underscoring the fact he was hers. Stimulating her when she did
not want to be stimulated. Gods, was she a teenager again?

"With respect, I think it
was your pleasure that goaded my desire, my lady."

"Silver-tongued
devil," she commented coldly. "Start my nails and tell me about your
first conversation with Thomas. How you convinced him to train you."

Giving her a searching look, he
picked up a file, apparently realizing it was best to start with filing her
nails instead of the more intimate act of massaging her hands. "That first
night I saw you, I wanted to speak to you, but Thomas prevented me from that.
Quite smoothly, I might add. I ended up talking to him. He told me nothing of
the truth of who he was, of course, but he must have seen something… different,
in how I was drawn to you. You were occupied, so we shared a bottle of wine, an
evening together. At the end of it, he gave me his card, told me to call him if
I ever felt a compulsion to do so. About a year ago, I found that card in my
dresser behind some other things. I called. He was in Madrid, and I joined him
there."

Lifting a shoulder, he moved to
the next finger, filing in one direction as was proper, brushing away the dust
with a thumb that caressed her knuckle. She watched his lashes fan his cheeks,
thickened by the shadowing of the moon, drawing her attention to the slope of
his cheekbones, the sensuality of his mouth. "Once we established trust,
he started telling me about you. At a certain point, he accepted I'd be here
when he couldn't any longer."

Again, his gaze rose, lingered
on her face. Not for the first time, she thought he didn't look at her the way
a human servant looked at his Mistress. He looked at her the way a lover would,
one who knew things about her needs, her fears.

He was a
human
. She
should tell him to lower his gaze. But would she be doing so to teach him a
lesson, or because of the way that look was making her feel?

She frowned. "You had no
woman?"

"Of course not, my lady. I
wouldn't come to you attached."

But he'd had women before. That
was obvious. She found she wasn't interested in hearing about them, however.
She didn't particularly care for the fact he'd had them, no matter how skilled
it made him now.

His fingers were larger than
hers, deceptively stronger-looking, and she was hyperaware of every place they
touched her hand, how they held it. "Do you still prefer oval tips, my
lady?"

"A little sharper than
that." She tilted her head, let her voice lower into a purr. "I like
being able to scratch a man's back, leave scars there when I drive my fangs
into his throat, when his cock spurts into my body."

She was spitefully delighted to
see the flash of lust in his eyes, a flare of jealousy at the implication of
other lovers. When he bent his head back over his task, she continued lashing
at him, unable to stop herself. Unable to push down the desire her own words
were stoking in herself. "I also like to restrain a man when I feed or
take any other sort of pleasure with him. Spread his arms and legs wide, leave
him no defense against me. Did Thomas tell you that amid all his many pearls of
wisdom? Were you prepared for how I treated you that first night, Sir Vagabond?
The way I may treat you every night if I so choose?"

"He told me some of your
preferences, my lady. Is that sharp enough?"

She moved her glance down, but
before she could study the shape of the nail, he lifted her hand. Gripping her
wrist, he brought her fingertip to his throat, pressing down so it punctured
the skin, welled blood. Keeping his gaze on hers, he lifted his chin higher.

Jacob knew when he was being
taunted. Defiance wasn't the best strategy when it came to vampires, but
instinct as well as a good deal of male ego drove him to stand up to her now.

Because his experience had been
that vampires were very ritualized and formal in their own interactions, he'd
envisioned his first days with Lady Lyssa as a transition period, like a knight
swearing allegiance to a chosen lady. Awe and reverence. A certain amount of
formal detachment between them, not too messily intimate or personal.

So much for that idea. His cock
was going to explode if she kept masturbating it with nothing more than her
sultry voice and provocative words. She'd brought him to climax less than a few
hours before, in another almost equally uncomfortable situation.

A trickle of blood itched along
his throat. She'd gone so still that Jacob blinked to make sure she was still
real. He couldn't tell if he'd offended her or if he'd done… something
different. The way those jeweled eyes centered on him now, unmoving,
unblinking, made him vote for something different. He tried to ignore the sly
voice that suggested his aggressive response was to ignore his reaction to her
words. The way hot lust licked up his cock, tightening his balls as he imagined
the picture her words painted. Accessible to her touch whenever she willed it,
his legs restrained. His blood pounded hard under the touch of her fingers.

"You do get aroused by
pain, Sir Vagabond." The same question was delivered as a statement,
uttered in that temptress's voice. Her green eyes were like a predator's,
waiting for the right answer before she moved in for the kill.

"No, my lady. Except when
you're the one administering it." Tightening his hand on her wrist, he
leaned in. "When Thomas flogged me, he told me to imagine it was your hand
wielding the whip. Damn if I didn't get as hard as the stones beneath my bare
feet, even as I felt the blood get slick under my heels. The night you put that
cock ring on me, it burned like fire, but all I could think about was how wet
your cunt was getting while you watched my discomfort. You could have rammed a
railroad spike up my ass and if it got you off, I'd still be hard as a rock,
mesmerized by your nipples stiffening, your legs spreading so you could taunt
me with your soaked pussy. No other woman has ever done that to me. It's you.
Whatever you choose to do to me."

Desire knocked into Lyssa like
an ocean wave hitting her mid-body, spraying her senses. It was not just the
smell of his blood, his heat. It was his defiant look, wrapped up with a
gesture that offered her everything. He was challenging her control,
recognizing full well she was testing him. He was testing her right back.

Jacob knew it was coming, could
envision it happening before it actually did with that curious sense of déjà vu
he got, but he forced himself to stay still She surged up from the table. It
was like going over the edge of a roller coaster, too fast to follow,
everything out of his control as he was slammed up against the side of the sunroom,
against the edge of a cabinet there.

He opened his hand, releasing
the file so it made a muted tinny sound as it hit the floor. When he swallowed
against her hold on his throat, he noted her grip was under his jaw rather than
on his windpipe. Apparently he wasn't the first she'd trapped against a solid
surface like a mad scientist with a pin and a hapless butterfly. The corner of
the cabinet stabbed into his back and hip bone.

Her expression was merciless,
hard. "Did you know vampires secrete something like a pheromone that makes
mortals unable to resist us? The younger vampires can't control it at first.
When they go out at night they avoid crowded areas so they don't cause a
spectacle like the Pied Piper. I rarely use it. After so many centuries, if a woman
blessed with a vampire's immortal looks hasn't honed her seductive powers to
the same potency as a chemical reaction, then she has no right to use
either."

"I'll deny you nothing, my
lady."

"You deny me your
submission." Her eyes glittered, her voice dropping to that cock-teasing
whisper.

When he'd faced vampires with
his brother, they'd intended to kill him before he could do the same to them.
They'd discarded a civilized veneer, becoming 100 percent the savage predators
they were. While hurting Lady Lyssa was the last thing he would ever do, he
could not deny her sudden ferocity provoked his fighting instinct, which pissed
him off. Closing his hands into fists, he suppressed the urge to struggle. Then
it occurred to him a different strategy might be needed here.

You must go with your gut
. Thomas's words. Lady Lyssa was a master of deception, even above
the level of most of her peers. He would be of no use as a servant unless he
learned how to cut through all that and get to what she really wanted from him,
what she needed him to be. But what if what she wanted and needed was something
she herself might not know? Something that might change from moment to moment.

After all, she is female.

"You like the fact I
resist," he responded. He matched her seductive purr with a husky growl.
He could take disobedience to an art form if it gave her the type of shuddering
orgasms that made her keep coming back for more. "That's what's making you
wet even now. You want to sink your fangs into me and invade my mind, make even
more of me your slave."

Oh, he is such a handful.

Teaching a strong man to submit
to her will by his own choice had always enthralled her. Under normal
circumstances, that was important. While each vampire handled time differently,
all vampires with an iota of wisdom knew the dangers of stagnation. The
dreadful, often psychopathic effect of the Ennui took more of their numbers
than anything. Ultimately, it was what had taken Rex. The thought disrupted the
moment, reminded her that stagnation was irrelevant to her, like so many other
things.

Easing Jacob down off the wall,
she withdrew her hand, but in a motion that allowed her to trace his
collarbone. The man had beautiful, firm skin. A delicious body. Thomas had
given her substance and candy both.
You bad, bad monk. You learned things
from me no monk should know
.

Turning away, she returned to
her chair and deliberately laid her hand on the towel that was on the table,
wiping off the blood that had collected on her fingers. Jacob approached a
moment later, rubbing his neck and eyeing her warily as he straddled the stool
again.

"I feed on my own
terms," she said coolly. "I'll give you the second mark only if
that's
my
desire. If I bind you to me and you prove tiresome, I'd
likely kill you rather than exert the energy to sever our link. Therefore, I
wouldn't rush me."

A grudging smile tugged at his
lips, stirring her further. The man did not have enough control to suppress a
smile. How on earth could he exercise the restraint to be her servant? Never
mind she was fascinated by the way his lips curved, the appeal of his clever
mouth, the genuine intelligence and affability his expression revealed.

"Fair enough, my
lady."

They maintained a companionable
silence while he finished the filing. When he placed her hands in a basin of
warm water, the fragrant oils with which he'd infused it closed over her skin,
filled her nose.

"Did Thomas tell you how
long he was with me?"

"Yes. And that he would
have served at your pleasure for as much as two hundred more years if your
husband had not punished him for his loyalty to you." He gave her an even
look. "For which you—"

Her hand was out of the water,
her fingers pressed against his lips before he could say anything further.
"We don't discuss that. Ever."

Despite her sharp command, she
took advantage of the contact to trace the oil along his lips. Watching them
part in surprised response, she felt her heart twist in a knot of nearly
unbearable pain at the simple beauty of it. His fingertips pressed into the
table, whitening with the suggestion of a man's rising desire. It made things
quiver low in her stomach. So she took her hand away.

"We never speak of that,
Jacob. Not unless I bring it up."