The Vampire Queen's Servant (30 page)

An elderly woman picked him up.
She informed him she was turning eighty on Saturday, could barely see, and too
many cars on the road made her nervous. After she asked him to take the wheel
until they got to their destination, she talked him into stopping at the
drugstore for her prescription and the grocery store for three soft pears and
several cans of soup. When they finally got to Ingram, he'd had the man follow
him while he drove her back to her house. He ignored Elijah's grin when the
woman gave him a kiss on the cheek and two pieces of peach cobbler.

He could have lectured her on
the foolishness of picking up someone who could easily overpower her and
turning over the car to him to boot. However, he'd learned it wasn't
necessarily a lack of common sense that made women act that way.

"A woman knows she's safe
with you, Jacob. She just knows." It was Milah, one of the circus tumblers
he regularly tossed in the air, who'd first pointed it out to him. "Don't
get me wrong. You're not a harmless puppy dog. But you can tell you'd break
your own hand before you'd let it hurt a woman."

He definitely wasn't feeling
harmless at the moment. When Lyssa's fangs sank into him, she'd entered his
consciousness on so many levels he'd almost shoved her away in panic. Instead,
he turned that energy to holding steady, getting a grip. A fierce grip with
both hands, his hold on her waist tightening as her invasion spread into every
corner of his mind, deep into wells of his soul where even he didn't go.

His awareness of her was
heightened beyond anything he'd imagined. When Thomas had talked about being
connected this way, he'd imagined something like schizophrenia, with voices in
his head. He had a certain ability to anticipate someone's needs, an uncanny
intuition that had served him well throughout his life, but this went far
beyond that. When they left the fountain, he stopped at the hallway leading to
the restroom because he knew she wanted to wring out her shirt and re-pin her
hair. They'd put the wig in one of his bags. He knew she wanted him to wait
here, at the entrance to the hall. So he did as she left him without a word,
just a brush of contact on his arm. Since no matter how often he'd studied it
tonight he couldn't help watching that tempting little ass, he watched it until
it disappeared into the restroom and was startled when she let him feel her
pleasure at his regard. Her amusement.

He leaned against the wall,
resting his head against the cool tile to ease the odd buzzing sensation. From
here he could see the Ferris wheel, the way it tilted on its axis like a top.
Somewhat the way his mind was doing, trying to find its balance now that
someone was riding it with him.

Could she really read it all?
Everything he thought or felt? For some reason, he'd never really considered
her access to his thoughts below the surface layers. Now it was dawning on him,
how many things she would know about him. Things she'd know about him almost
before he had the thought himself. He didn't regret it, but damn if it wasn't
an uncomfortable idea, making him self-conscious, as if everything about him
was under a spotlight for her perusal. Not "as if." It
was
.

I can leave no stone
unturned, if I so choose.

She'd returned, was standing
there next to him, but she'd spoken inside his head. Her lips had not moved at all.
He suspected she'd intended to come upon him unawares, to underscore what
Thomas had told him.
The marks are two-way, but only when she allows it
.

As if her invasion into his mind
had opened up some of the rooms he himself couldn't open, for the first time he
understood his own conflict better. She was a queen, a liege lady, in truth. He
was her servant, while his soul burned to give her everything, just for a
smile. His sense of honor would keep him at her side even when she drove him
mad. But what would keep him protecting and serving her beyond every torment of
hell was something she'd be shocked to know, maybe even offended—

His attention snapped to her
face as she watched him, her jade green eyes filled with things he didn't
understand and didn't want to interpret. Maybe it was good he couldn't read her
mind. He couldn't bear her scorn at this moment.

"You consider me yours. No
other man's." She voiced the thought he hadn't intended to share. "Be
careful, Jacob. You are right. You are my servant. I am your Mistress. Our
relationship may be far more intense than that of human lovers, but it is far
less equitable, I promise you."

It was like catching mice
running out of a cage. He didn't know which thought to chase down and try to
slap back into the cage, but it was futile regardless. The bars were gone.
There was nowhere to put them. The noise of the mall closed in on him as he
struggled with it, and suddenly there seemed to be a lot less oxygen.

"Jacob." Her hand was
on his arm. "Breathe deep, Sir Vagabond. Be calm." Her fingers
climbed to his biceps, squeezed. "Sshh…"

"I can't… get a handle on
it."

"Nothing to get a handle
on. That's where you're making a mistake." Her touch stroked, soothed.
"It's like… do you believe in the Christian version of God? It's like
that, the way they say He is in your thoughts at all times."

"No one really believes
that, though." He tried to respond to her gentle teasing in kind, not let
the first anxiety attack he'd ever had in his life overcome him. "No one
thinks God's in there 24/7, listening to what you're going to eat for
breakfast, or watching sitcom reruns at two in the morning with you."

"I won't be, either,"
she said with a smile. Cupping his face, she brought his eyes to her. When they
steadied, focused, she nodded her approval, though she kept stroking his hair
from his temples, helping him stay calm as he struggled for his bearings.
"Yes, I'll know your thoughts if I'm listening at the time you have them.
The main purpose of the mind link is to communicate without using our voices,
and to communicate over distance."

You can handle this, Jacob.
You can do this.

Her voice or his? His, but she
could hear him if she chose to do so.

"I may choose to
eavesdrop," she said quietly. "But when I do, most of the time you won't
even know I'm there. I've never claimed or desired to be an easy Mistress to
serve. If you curse my name, I may hear it, but as long as you act toward me
with respect, most of the time I'll allow you the illusion of privacy, the
normal range of emotions and personal thoughts inside your head without
disruptive intrusion, even when I choose to be there. I don't expect you to be
less than human. As Thomas may have told you, over time you'll become far less
conscious of it."

Until you lose it
. As he weakened, Thomas had spoken of things a man confessed on his
deathbed, the staggering sense of loss he'd felt when she blocked their link so
effectively he could no longer sense it anymore. It had been like the removal
of a vital organ, the severing of a limb.

When Lyssa's eyes darkened with
pain, Jacob wished he could have thought about something else, anything else.

"My lady—"

"No." She shook her
head, drew away from him. "At least you won't have to worry about that,
Jacob. I'll never give you the third mark."

At first he wasn't sure he'd
heard her correctly. She was walking, and he had to take a couple of fast
strides to catch up, take her arm to stop her. "What do you mean? I don't
understand. Have I displeased you somehow?"

She looked away, her body tense,
wanting to move. "The second mark isn't a guarantee of the third, and it's
not necessary for how I need you to serve me."

"My lady, why do you insist
on shutting—"

"Jacob," she snapped.
The admonition silenced him, but Lyssa saw the anger in his eyes, the hurt
confusion.
To have come so far, worked so hard, and she isn't going to even
give me the chance… What the hell? She can't mean it. She
—

She shut down her awareness of
his thoughts, unwilling to hear the things that fueled her own frustration. It
angered her, his presumption. Almost as much as her desire to do what he
wanted.

Coldness invaded her vitals,
cutting short the surge of temper. The hair rose on the back of her neck and
she went still, surveying her immediate surroundings and then farther out, reaching
and looking for the source. Pain rushed in her temples, sudden enough that she
froze, caught in the grip of it. No,
not now
. Setting her teeth, she
fought to look past it, to push down the nausea rising in her throat. Perhaps
it was caused by what she was sensing, not an impending attack. She didn't know
which was preferable.

"My lady." He had her
arm, his touch gentle but firm. "I should have brought us a car. Do you
need your medicine?"

"No." Lyssa blinked,
clearing the haze over her eyes. It was an effort, but she made herself
straighten. "We should go, though."

Without prompting, he slid an
arm around her, bringing her in to his side so they could walk through the
mall, blending with the other young lovers who moved in trilling, giggling
packs. Noise bounced off the walls. Thankful for the sunglasses, she closed her
eyes, curled her fingers into Jacob's flesh. She heard him tell a security
guard they were on their way out when he was admonished for not wearing his
shirt. She didn't hear the response, but she was sure it was a male security
guard. No woman would have required someone looking like Jacob to wear a shirt
unless she was insane.

Where was it? She could feel the
presence like a poison seeping through the walls, coating the tile floor, trying
to come in contact with her. The source of it would not be inside the mall,
however. It would wait in the shadows, knowing she'd sensed it. Staying in the
mall would appear as weakness, and she refused to show weakness to this one,
even if the effort killed her. It would be equally debilitating to let the
creature believe it could get under her skin. Either way, she wouldn't permit
it to have an advantage. Couldn't.

Jacob.

She spoke his name in her mind,
and was reassured when he tightened his arm around her. He could hear her then.

Before they stepped out the
parking deck entrance, she straightened, took his elbow in a more formal
gesture. He gave her a glance, but said nothing as they moved into the deck
area. He was alert, picking up on her mood, his eyes darting everywhere. She
knew they wouldn't see her quarry, though. This one had to be flushed.

"Show yourself, Carnal.
Unless you're planning to jump out of the shadows and say 'boo.'"

Jacob stiffened and she touched
him with her mind.
Follow my lead, and do not disobey me
.

The vampire who stepped out was
as tall as Jacob, perhaps taller. Emanating a vampire's physical perfection,
he'd honed it to a razor-sharp attraction to draw whatever prey to him he
chose. His long dark hair had once been short, but apparently he'd realized the
style emphasized too well the precisely cut lines of his face, making the
cruelty more easily noticed. His eyes, gray and piercing as an ice pick, were
mesmerizing enough to seduce, but lacked the warmth for it. His lean body exhibited
a tensile strength suggesting a fencer about to step into a ring.

When his eyes swept Jacob, the
vampire dismissed him so quickly Jacob wasn't sure he'd even seen him.

His lady stepped in front of
him, he noted with displeasure. He'd have corrected that, but her voice erupted
in his mind again. Being such a new sensation, he had to take precious seconds
to orient himself to it, focus enough to understand the message she was
communicating.

Stay behind me. It's
inappropriate for a servant to stand equal with his vampire Mistress. Even
worse to insult her by standing in front of her. Speak only when spoken to. A
servant never speaks when two vampires are conversing.

As she issued her terse
instructions, Carnal's gaze was roving every inch of her in slow, deliberate
appraisal, lingering in a way that made Jacob itch for a wooden stake. He tried
to remain as impassive as his Mistress, but there was something about the way
Lyssa held herself that suggested she was anticipating ugliness from this
encounter. Jacob had never let a woman stand between him and danger. He didn't
care for the feeling one bit.

"This is a new look for
you, Lyssa." His voice was smooth, well-pitched. A cross between a radio
personality and a torturer for the Inquisition. "I came by your house,
intending to leave my calling card, only to find no servant to meet me. I
decided to amuse myself in the area until your return and was fortunate enough
to be close enough to this place"—his lip curled distastefully—"to
detect the most delicious perfume on the air. You." He cocked his head.
"Even in your own Region, I'm surprised you would send out such an obvious
beacon like that. Your powerful compulsion magic has stirred up quite a few
creatures of the night."

"I've no concern about my
enemies, Carnal. They're far more confident of themselves than they should
be."

Carnal gave a half bow, his dark
hair falling forward over his shoulders. "I hope for your happiness and
long life it is so. There are many these days who resist the Council and their
pro-human laws. Taking down the vampire queen who helped implement them… That
would be a powerful victory for them, a catalyst for irrevocable change."