Vampire Mistress (29 page)

He began to run the water, but when he looked up, saw her studying him, he felt a tangle of emotions running through her. “I’m sorry I scared you,” he said. “With the seizure and all.”

She gave him an incredulous look. “I tried to rip your throat out. I don’t think you need to apologize.”

“Maybe. But isn’t it a servant’s job to make his Mistress feel better?”

“Perhaps.” She cocked her head. Her hair, as in need of a wash as it was, still caught his attention when it shone dark bronze from the vanity lights. “Once I learn how to do this better, Gideon, I’m going to try not to read your mind without your permission. Only do it when we’re talking to one another directly, if it’s appropriate. I don’t want to strip you of your private thoughts. No one deserves that.”

“Until you master that curtain thing, I’ll try not to listen in on yours, either,” he offered. “But if you start having fantasies about me, or girl-on-girl action, I can’t promise anything. It’s biological. Not my fault.”

That little quirk again. “I understand it’s quite permissible to beat one’s servant. I’m having a few fantasies about that.”

“Past attempts to crack my skull have proven it really doesn’t do any good.” At her mental cringe, he winced. “I was joking. I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” she said quickly. Rising, she folded her arms around herself. Her back straightened as if she were wearing royal purple, instead of a cotton tee. “Is my bath ready?”

Though he was in a unique position to realize how thin her veneer was, there was something about her that made it real, solid. Dignity and class. He’d seen them exercised across the full spectrum of wealth, race and gender barriers when facing fear or death, and knew it had more to do with character than anything else. He bet Lyssa would really like this woman.

In the meantime, the man in him acknowledged both, the fragile woman and the strong Mistress. “Yes.” When he stretched out a hand, she placed hers in it, stepping over the shower wall. She shrugged off the stained garment, handed it to him.

“Throw that away.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, balling it up and doing a basketball toss toward the trash can, scoring a direct hit. When she turned to give him a narrow glance, he gave her an unrepentant arch of his eyebrow.

“Sit there.” She indicated the commode. “I’m going to wash myself, and you’re going to watch. But take off your shirt. I want to enjoy looking at you.”

Okay, she was
really
getting back into the swing of things. She turned on the spray then stepped in, letting it run over her hair. As she sleeked it down on her skull and made it cling to her pale curves, that energy of a second-mark servant made itself known in a very obvious way.

It had been pretty awkward the first time, stripping down with her and Daegan, but she’d been caught up in her emotions then and it had been one of those react-don’t-think moments, self-consciousness quickly discarded. This was like a demand issued in her Queen’s Chamber. Still, he found himself pulling the T-shirt up and over, and tossing it to the side as well. Trying to be casual about it, even though he felt her eyes coursing up from his abdomen like the trail of her sharp nails.

“Why did you have those? The razor nails.”

“I like cutting,” she said. “I like the way certain types of men react to it.”

Though it hadn’t done squat for her against three vampires. He didn’t have to fill that one in, because it hung in the air, another gargoyle hovering. Breaking eye contact with him, she pumped fragrant soap into her hands, massaging it between her palms until lather started to accumulate between them. She started at her neck. The water combined with the lather to send cascades of cream sliding down her breasts. Taking up a washcloth, she began to clean herself thoroughly.

Her intent might have been to take them out of the troublesome waters of their respective thoughts. If so, she was damn successful. She spent time on every inch of skin he’d like to touch, and lingered on the places he’d linger on. Lifting her breasts, tossing her hair back so it was a shiny cascade, a sable waterfall, she soaped the generous curves, pinched her nipples, and then arrowed her hands down over her abdomen, taking away blood, sputum, everything except beautiful woman. Down, down, until she reached her pussy, and began to soap herself there, slow, massaging circles that had her leaning up against the side of the shower, her legs parting to give her better access.

“Don’t move.” Gideon froze. He’d intended to shift, adjust himself because his jeans were getting uncomfortable. She hadn’t even looked at him, as far as he knew. While her mind could have anticipated him, from what he’d seen of her skills in this area, it was entirely possible the Mistress had anticipated him. “I want that handsome cock of yours kinked up, aching for freedom. You remember the bathing chamber where I had you chained?” At his short nod, her gaze glinted. “I’ve brought deserving slaves in there before, bound them, washed them myself, inside and out, then made them watch as you are watching. One of them couldn’t contain himself. He came while watching me, because of the vibrating probe I’d put in his ass. Because he got his semen on my skin, I put him in a cock-and-ball harness with prongs and made him come that way, an excruciating mixture of pleasure and pain. He never forgot it.”

“But you haven’t brought them down here.”

She met his gaze. “Why would I have a dungeon down here if I didn’t intend to bring my favorites to it, keep them as my prisoner as long as I wish?”

The answers to it, the truth, were already in her mind, amid a teasing whorl of heat. He’d said he wouldn’t look if he could help it, but it was easier said than done, not to look at a landscape directly in front of his mind’s gaze. Never. She’d never had a submissive down here. She’d been too busy getting the business running to have time for personal relationships, and then she’d met Daegan.

She held his gaze. Though he saw mild reproof in her expression, she’d apparently realized this was a game of quid pro quo. “When you saw me walk into the Queen’s Chamber, what did you want from me, Gideon?”

He couldn’t have said it to her now or before, but his mind did, without hesitation.
Surrender, pain. Release. Acceptance.

19

“E
VERY mind has shields,
cher
. As the serum goes in, your mind will open his. Do it firmly, don’t stop, but move forward slow. Give his shields time to lie down before you, rather than ramming through them. It’s a seduction, not a rape. He will still likely convulse, as if he is about to seize, but that is just the physical reaction, one he cannot control. Just keep going, and then speak to him. Calm him from within his mind.”

During the second marking, Daegan had spoken to her, walked her through it. She could tell Gideon had tuned out everything but the action, so she wasn’t sure he’d heard the dialogue. When he’d reacted with such startled resistance, she’d known he hadn’t.

Still fighting her reservations about what they’d done to him, she’d promised herself she wouldn’t read his mind if she could help it. Hell, a few seconds ago, she’d made the same promise to him. Now the pleasure of being a Mistress, of plumbing the depths of a submissive’s needs, had opened up to a new level for her, in this one particularly fascinating male. His rapid laundry list softened her, made her hold out the shampoo. “Do my hair.”

He rose. She hadn’t said to get undressed, so he didn’t. He stepped into the shower in his jeans and boots, an automatic obedience she liked. Leaning back into him, she let him support her weight as he poured the shampoo into her scalp, set the bottle aside. His hands were strong and massaging, caring and needing at once.

He’d taken off her chains, looked her in the eye and told her she would stay in control. She knew it was an illusion, but he surrounded her with something, a sense of stability. He belonged to her. And he’d been willing to belong to her, never mind how it had actually occurred or when he would eventually change his mind. Despite the strange, awful things happening to her, this wasn’t a bad moment, particularly when he smoothed his palm over her forehead so she laid her head back on his shoulder. When he dropped a kiss on her skin, she absorbed the texture of his mouth, the hint of moist heat. His strong, hard body supporting her, not a soft spot anywhere.

She couldn’t begin to itemize the ways her body felt changed, let alone her mind, her instincts . . . everything. Even her automatic reactions as a Mistress had a new, additional quality to them. Something more feral and demanding, something frighteningly indifferent to limitations, boundaries. She was able to do anything she wished, to anyone weaker than herself. That was the way of the beast.

No. That was Barnabus’s way, the way of a creature that had been twisted into a sociopath. Even wild animals did not prey on the weak maliciously. It alarmed her, to think that those shadow creatures might be clever enough to cloak themselves in her own thoughts and instincts.

“You may want to close your eyes while I rinse your hair.” His voice was a steadying rumble behind her ear. “Vampire invincibility or not, I expect shampoo still stings if it gets in your eyes.”

Anwyn turned in his arms, closing her eyes so he could do that. As he did, she threaded her fingers in his chest hair, moving close enough that she could press herself against wet denim. She registered the integration of bone and muscle, his hot, sweet blood beneath firm skin. The indentations of old scars, proof of his battles.

Battles with what she now was. She didn’t let that thought snag her, though, because he was here now.

“I want to dance,” she murmured.

“Here?” He was vaguely amused and very aroused, and she savored both. As he rinsed her, her hair was so long he couldn’t help but follow the curve of her back to the rise of her buttocks. When wet, the locks caressed her hips. He was trying hard, in a touchingly chivalrous manner, not to take advantage, but she saw all the wonderful things in his mind he’d like to do. It goaded her own desires.

“No. After we finish. I know the song I want. It’s slow and beautiful, and talks about how wonderful and terrible love is.”

“You’re going to make me dance with you, aren’t you?”

Marveling at how much she wanted his closeness, she laid her head on his chest in an uncharacteristic move, letting his arms come around her. There was someone else she wanted close as well, but she pushed that away.

She knew Daegan cared for her, considered her his territory in that overbearing yet appealing way of the extreme alpha male. But would he have done as Gideon had done, gone against everything he was, sacrificed for her well-being? They were thoughts she couldn’t shake, even as she despised herself for such pettiness and possible hypocrisy. Was she capable of denying her Dominant instincts any more than Daegan?

Daegan
had
denied himself for five years, she reminded herself. Refused to make her his servant when it was something he’d obviously desired. It increased her self-loathing, recalling what she’d done earlier when Gideon was still unconscious.

In the aftermath of her seizure, as she’d slowly drifted toward unconsciousness, Daegan had briefly left her to check on Gideon. When he returned, before his hand touched her, she’d flinched away from him. Rather than pressing the issue, there’d been a weighted silence. Her eyes had been closed, her arms curved protectively over her body, a tension in her shoulders that didn’t ease, not even when she realized he’d withdrawn, gone back to her new servant.

She’d realized the horrible truth. What had made her flinch was his scent. Not his unique smell, but the species itself. Vampire. Whereas she didn’t fear Gideon, didn’t find any monsters in him, Daegan was connected with her fear and apprehension of what she was now. The part she felt he’d played in it.

Being intuitive, he’d felt her revulsion, and she knew that was why he’d withdrawn. He wouldn’t have if it was just the festering issues between them. He’d given her Gideon to help her where he couldn’t. It made her heart and head hurt.

While Gideon had been amazed at how well she had handled herself so far, she knew there was a whole cauldron of post-traumatic breakdown waiting for her once she got a handle on all of it. But she couldn’t summon the energy for any of it. Not right now. She had all she could handle. She’d deal with it soon. No matter how shameful it made her feel, she knew Daegan could take it. She needed something else right this minute, and she was going to take it.

What was it about a hard-muscled man, with battle scars and a 100 percent trouble, devil-glint in his eye, that she found so irresistible? He was rubbing soap on her back now, his hands practically screaming their desire to mold over her ass. It wasn’t natural to him to wait for permission, but he was trying. Probably not because of any desire to win the Sub-of-the-Month award, but because he was in her mind now. He knew how close to boiling that cauldron was, and he wouldn’t want to take anything from her she didn’t want to give.

Even so, he wasn’t the type to beg for the right to kiss the sole of her shoe. He was the quivering mastiff at her knee, fangs ready, waiting for the command to leap forward with a powerful ripple of muscle. Only she was in the mood for a different type of attack.

If she wanted rough sex, she’d have it, and enjoy the hell out of it, would refuse to let it be dragged down to the level of what happened in the alley.
My first official command, Gideon. Take me as you want. Ignore everything that may or may not have happened these past few hours. Do it, now.

To underscore it, taking advantage of the shock that coursed over his expression, she went up on her toes and seized his mouth. Cupping her hands around his skull and biting down on his bottom lip, hard, she caused him to growl.

I know it’s not natural to you, to wait and ask, fawn and grovel. Be the man I know you are. Sweep me away. Fuck me so I can barely walk.

She heard that leash break, knowing hunger, lust and need were all leaping against those self-imposed restraints. Catching her under the arms, he put her against the wall, but his eyes burned into hers. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Speak in my mind.”

I don’t want to hurt you.
The sensual impact of it, his voice inside her, was incredible.

You’ll hurt me only by holding back.
In the swirl of their emotions and tumbling thoughts, each of them struggling to hear the uppermost thought in the other’s mind, she made sure that one was clear.
You said I have the control to beat this. I do. That I shouldn’t be treated like a rabid animal. I don’t want to be treated like a victim. I want your cock. I demand it.

He fisted his hand in her hair, plundered her mouth. There was the lingering flavor of blood, where Daegan had to strike him and he’d bitten his lip. Lust was a glorious sensation, but she’d never felt it like this. Was this why Daegan was always so ready to take her, even within minutes of having pushed them both over a peak? She wanted to draw it out forever, make Gideon suffer with lust until he was a brutal, mindless male animal. She wanted him to come inside of her now, hear his lust release in a long, helpless groan as he clutched her with his callused hands, speared her with his thick cock and sank deep, so deep she’d feel impaled and never want the pain of having the weapon pulled free of her aching flesh.

He had another surprise for her. Putting her on her feet, he turned her, pressing her against the shower wall and himself against her, his palms over her hands, pushing them flat against the tile, fingers curving into the spaces. He ground himself against her buttocks and she lifted for him, gasping, stepping on the toes of the boots he still wore. Bringing his knee up, he lifted her on his thigh, his other hand circling her waist and holding her in place to let her rub there, have the glorious feel of his thigh muscle rubbing against her clit as he opened his jeans.

“Yes,” she muttered. “Do it. Fuck me.”

Water was pounding against them. Even so, she clearly felt the tender brush of his lips on her nape as he worked her hard against his body, his strength able to keep her there if she didn’t use vampire strength against him. If he hadn’t had the second mark, his lack of sleep, of nourishment other than what he’d been able to scavenge from her kitchen between seizures, would have defeated him, but that energy sustained him as their need for each other only increased.

So did madness, with angry, slashing claws. Her fingers dug into the tile beneath his.
No. Not yet.

“Gideon.” Panic gripped her. “Another one . . . another.” Would it ever end? Would it be as bad as the last one, or could he truly help, now that he was in her mind and halfway oriented?

I’m here. I see it, feel it. We’ll ride it out together. You won’t hurt me. You’re in control, Anwyn. Mistress.

As the seizure invaded, so did he, ripping open his jeans to drive himself into her to the root. He held her hands tightly, not to restrain her, but to tell her he was there as the pain of the transition ripped at her internal organs, made her cry out. She clung to the pleasure of him thrusting into her, to the way he filled her inside, how he pressed her against the shower wall so her clit made contact with it.

But that madness continued to build, the voices growing louder, the crimson haze covering her eyes. A renewed flood of panic was quickly swallowed by greed, the bloodlust using the sexual energy as fuel for its own purposes.

Breaking free, she whipped around and drove him up against the opposite wall, climbing his body to take control, slamming herself back down on him. With the thick breadth of his cock rubbing her slick tissues inside, her muscles milked him with ruthless craving. Her fingers fisted in his hair hard enough to hold his head back, his throat arched out to her.
Mine.
He was hers, to do with as she wished. That flimsy curtain she’d attempted was torn away, her mind invading his so he could hide nothing from her. Daegan had said the third mark was even deeper, soul deep. If she’d given him that last mark, she could clutch it in her hands, shred it if she wanted to do so.

They are never to be trusted. Kill him, now. He can still be killed. Blood is so much sweeter, easier, and a dying man’s blood goes down so well. Do it when he’s pumping his seed in you, let him die in the throes of orgasm, where you hold and take everything from him.

The gremlins screamed like a crowd of rabid fans at a rock concert. And threaded through it all, that voice, the sibilant lisp that had become a part of who she was, a part she was trying to deny. They all stroked her need for power and control, taking her places in her mind she hadn’t known existed. Her fangs grew longer, the crimson tide bathing everything around her in blood, turning the water running over them into a shower of it. She heard Gideon’s voice in her head, a distant, weak thing, attempting to bring her back to that pathetic creature she’d been a moment before. He would fail.

She snarled in protest, an angry, aroused cat, when an arm circled her neck from behind. A strong body pressed her harder onto Gideon’s, creating a storm of sensation as her head was jerked to the side and a pair of fangs sank into her throat.

No, no, no . . .
Gideon’s surge of anger joined her own, but they were both helpless against the power of the creature holding them joined against the shower wall. Though she fought it, need grew heavy and hot again, for as Daegan drank, desire doubled and tripled in her blood. It spun around her, rousing every nerve ending. She began to rise and fall on Gideon, her fingers digging into his shoulders, nerve endings singing at the clutch of his fingers low on her hips, the way they convulsed to make the stroke of his cock, every velvet steel inch, the friction of the broad head, even more pleasurable. Though he appeared resistant because of their company, he couldn’t resist the lust any more than she could.

Fuck me
, the wildness in her screamed.
Do it, or I’ll tear your heart out of your chest.

No, you will not.
Daegan’s voice in her head was a startling and new experience. Gideon registered it as well, for it came right through her open mind to his.
He is your servant. You care for him, and he cares for you. His desire is all for you, Mistress Anwyn. Accept it, use it. Make him yours by winning his heart, not his fear. That is your way. His mind may be yours, but it is a gift. His surrender is a gift. Win the gift, Anwyn. Don’t take it.