The Vampire Queen's Servant (5 page)

"Jacob." When she
spoke his name in a breathless whisper, his hand slid down her back, molding
over the curves of her ass before he slid between her braced thighs, seeking
her heat. Just the tips of his fingers brushed her clit as he sealed his palm
over her throbbing cunt, her skirt bunched up between his touch and her skin.
The heel of his hand pressed against the sensitive base of her buttocks.

He didn't break her skin, but he
kept that hypnotic hold on her throat. His blue eyes blazed fire over the
fragile skin of her face. Her fingers were sticky with him and she wanted that
blood in her mouth. Wanted him in her bed. Accessible for play, for a snack,
for a full-course meal… She yearned for his arms to encircle her in the middle
of the night.

A companion.

"My lady." His voice
was a hoarse rumble against skin as he eased his bite. She closed her eyes,
sliding her hand up so it cupped his face even as her body quivered under the
touch of his slowly kneading, clever fingers.

She could send him through a
window and rolling into the street. She could lay her hands on his skull and
crush it with a thought. But at this moment she reveled in the way his hands
held her, so powerfully. He had the suggestion of Rex's strength, but none of
the cruelty that had kept her from completely surrendering to the passion of
her husband's embrace.

Colors. Spiraling colors. She'd
ignored the warning sign as well as the dizziness because she'd been impatient
for the sensation of the climax, of Jacob's kiss. But now the disorientation
was increasing exponentially, clearing the sensual haze over her mind with the
cold wind of apprehension.

Lowering her hands to his arms,
she began to push, enough that he couldn't resist it. When he tried to maintain
a hold on her, a simple additional exertion was all she needed to slam him back
down on his knees before her, his grip dropping clumsily but quite pleasantly
to the outside of her thighs. He tried to pull back but she merely tightened
her hold on his shoulders. Staring at him unsmiling, she waited for him to
understand.

A first lesson.

Jacob's eyes narrowed, betraying
temper and not a small amount of frustrated lust, an energy she absorbed with
pleasure, savoring it almost as much as she would blood.

"You haven't displeased me,
Jacob," she said. "I admit I'm intrigued. But you won't come home
with me tonight. You need to think some more. At the moment you're standing in
the surf. If you submit to me, you'll be taken deep into the ocean and never
touch solid ground again."

"I came prepared to go with
you, my lady." He spoke low, obviously struggling for the earlier tones of
smooth courtesy. "With respect, I think it's you who needs time to think.
Not I."

Arrogant, even if he was also
right. She didn't know enough about him, and unfortunately now was not going to
be the moment for her to learn more. Time was short. Regardless, she lifted a
disdainful brow. "So if it was my will to take you home tonight and make
you serve me with your mouth while another man fucked
you
from behind,
that would be fine?" At his startled reaction, she gave a sharp nod.
"I will take you far past what you think your limits are, to the level
I
find acceptable. After that, I might go even further. See how you handle pain,
how loyal you would be to me under torture."

She knew how to do such things,
but the thought made her a little sick, especially when her body was still
shuddering from that kiss and the orgasm that had surged up like a violent
seizure at his barest touch.

"I'm committed to your
service, my lady. Whatever it might be."

But she heard the rage against
it in his voice. "I think you're rash and foolish," she said in
sudden anger. "Driven by your cock and your male ego. You're romanticizing
the situation, blinding yourself."

The world was becoming a
wavering rainbow. Nothing was as it seemed. She needed to go. Was it time for
her driver to return? She couldn't remember when she'd said for him to come.
She used her dwindling reserves of strength to send out an urgent compulsion to
him, a mental shove that would have him turning the key in the ignition and
heading this way before he even thought about the fact he was earlier than
she'd suggested.

She'd known the danger of going
out like this. It was too much… But she'd wanted a manicure, damn it. One
pleasure. But there were no easy pleasures anymore.

"My lady?"

By his alarmed expression she
knew her irises had gone blood red, her pale face even paler. Her fangs had
elongated and now pricked her lips, lancing the skin and drawing blood. Salty
blood that tasted metallic on her tongue.

It was too late. The chair
became green, then purple. The fire was now olive drab, with blue flickering
lights. She had to trust Thomas's choice and see how Jacob performed under
fire. Hopefully not literally.

"Vial… in my bag. I need
it."

After a quick look at her face,
he retrieved it from the side table, searched and found the medicine. The room
spun. When it righted itself, he was holding her, easing her back into the
chair. "My lady, what's the matter?"

"That's not your
concern." His skin was so hot, so alive. She felt the richness of his
blood as if she was bathing in it, but the snakes of pain were there too,
coiling in her lower stomach.

"I need blood. Fresh."

"Direct from the source, or
mixed with this?" He gestured with the glass tube.

"Mixed." Though the
idea of sinking her fangs into his throat was enough to make her arch off the
chair with a cry of yearning, pain tearing at her.

Snatching up a pair of razor
clippers, he sliced a line across his forearm with the blade. The arterial
blood was quick and red. She wondered how he knew a finger prick wasn't
sufficient.

Picking up the vial, he removed
the cork and brought the tube against his skin so the blood flowed into it
without further waste. It turned black upon contact with the potion. He capped
the tube and shook it to accomplish the mix, caught up the towel and swiped it
across the outside to keep the blood spilled there from dripping on her
clothes.

"Hand it to me.
Please." Propping her head on the back of the chair, she attempted to rest
her hands on the arms in a position of dignity, though she wanted to curl in a
ball around the pain.

He brought it to her lips
instead, cradling her face with his hand. Those vivid eyes and appealing lips
were close. She wondered if he knew his eyes turned different shades depending
on his moods. Sapphires, a summer sky, the Mediterranean right before sunset…

She drank the bitter stuff but
reveled in the taste of him, wishing she hadn't had to spoil her first sampling
with this. The way he touched her face, with his palm so close to her fangs… He
didn't fear her in the way she hated. Despite her mockery, she didn't sense
that obsessive unrealistic fascination with her kind she found contemptuous.
She could teach him to fear her in ways that would bring her pleasure, though.
Ways that would bring them both pleasure.

Thomas. This is insanity.
Who is this human, that he makes me feel this way? Does he understand it? Is
that what he hides from me, or is he as confused as I am?

The colors were steadying,
reforming. Objects reflected a less surreal perspective. She needed to get to
the car, but the potion left her with a hazardous temporary lassitude. She
could simply abide here, let Thomas watch over her… No, not Thomas. This was
Jacob. She blinked. No, she couldn't stay. She'd been here too long, was too
exposed.

Jacob had no idea what the hell
was happening. This wasn't the effect of hunger. He was certain of that. This
was illness. The woman whose power had nearly blasted him into the next room
several times during their brief interaction was now almost ghostlike in her
fragility. After she'd consumed the medicine, her fangs had slowly retracted,
her gaze returning to that midnight darkness and jade that watched him as if
she wore the soul of the night itself. The part that beckoned to a man even as
it froze his bowels in fear.

"Trust. Thomas said
trust." There was a feverish quality to her eyes.

"Trust must be earned, my
lady. If you allow me, I'll start earning it."

She looked down. Following her
gaze, Jacob saw the arm she grasped was the one he'd cut for her medicine. Now
his blood was on her skin and her skirt. When he picked up the towel from the
table again, she didn't object as he wiped her palm down. There was nothing he
could do for the stain on the skirt. "My apologies."

She nodded, watching him with an
oddly mesmerized expression. "You're fortunate I didn't wear white. I
would have taken great pleasure in punishing you for staining it."

Such a threat from a vampire
should have been terrifying. So why did he only feel arousal as the fingers of
her free hand drifted over the .cut?

Get a grip. She needs more
than your cock at the moment
. Thomas had warned
him she had an astounding and often infuriating way of bringing a man's lust
into every situation. Right now though, worry was taking precedence.

Her hand stopped drifting,
clutched in a sudden spasm. Though she was a petite woman whose head barely
reached his shoulder, he was sure he'd have the imprints of her fingers on his
forearm and possibly the bones beneath for some time. Pain was part of being a
human servant, though. When he'd stood before the altar in the monastery
chapel, the blood clotting on his back and making him lightheaded, his body
screaming for relief, he'd understood that. Thomas had been preparing him with
the flogging. Physical suffering would be part of accepting his lady's regard,
and never allowed to distract him from her care.

Therefore, despite the
increasing strength in her grip, it was the convulsive movement and the
trembling in her hand which shot his attention back to her face. The lines
around her mouth had deepened, giving him warning. "My lady."

When she slumped in the chair,
he caught her. Her hair tangled in his fingers.

"Take me to the door,
Jacob." Her lashes fluttered, showing him her green eyes briefly. "It
will be all right then. Driver… Mr. Ingram, should be out there. He'll get me
home."