Vampire Mistress (34 page)

It was also proof of the kind of trust he had in Anwyn, and perhaps in some way in Daegan, remaining still only on their insistence that Daegan wouldn’t drink from him.
Trust didn’t have to be all or nothing, after all.
He put his mouth on Gideon’s shoulder, using his tongue, a firm stroke along one of the scars there.

Gideon groaned, hand flexing beneath Daegan’s. “Let go of me,” he muttered. In answer, Daegan just tightened their grip, made it more of a slick glove, pushing Gideon to take it all the way back to the tip and back, faster.

“Jesus Christ.”

“You don’t come until I do, Gideon,” Anwyn reminded him on a sharp gasp.

“Tell that . . . to your . . . damn boy here.”

Daegan slid the other hand down, gripped one firm ass cheek as an anchor, a counterpoint for the stroking of Gideon’s cock.

Anwyn arched up, a cry breaking from her throat. “N-now, Gideon . . .”

With a rough groan, torn from him like a battle flag of surrender, Gideon did. His cock spewed a fountain of white fluid that gushed over his hand and Daegan’s, down to splatter on the stone floor. It was intense enough to convulse his body, and Daegan clamped his arm across the man’s chest, giving him a wall to brace against as the orgasm pumped forth, draining him dry.

As he did, the slamming of his heart against his chest, the way he pressed his head down hard against Daegan’s shoulder in the involuntary search for an anchor point, made Daegan want to bring him to his knees. He’d order him to put his head in his Mistress’s lap, let her stroke his hair tenderly while Daegan rutted on his ass. He’d watch Gideon lick her pussy under her ministrations, drive her up to climax again. He’d command him to stop just in time, though, and Daegan would take her, fucking her to climax, making sure he’d depleted them both, taken them to fully satiated exhaustion.

By the Holy Relics, what am I thinking?
Though his cock was about to explode, that wasn’t why he sought the steadying admonishment. He considered himself bound to Anwyn in a way he’d never been to anyone, though there’d always been that barrier between them as human and vampire. Now, with her as vampire, and this man as her servant, a male who inexplicably fascinated each of them, Daegan felt a hint of something he’d never had. The fulfillment of a yearning, something within reach, an answer they didn’t have singly, but they might have together, as a trinity.

Or, as Gideon would say, he was losing his fucking mind.

By the time he was done, Gideon was leaning full into his body again, gasping, his head turned away so Daegan couldn’t see his face. It affected him oddly, the hunter in his embrace this way, shamed. Anwyn, in contrast, curled up on her hip, pulling her skirt back down, her gaze lingering on the two of them, obviously approving of the sight they made. But the moment was short-lived.

Gideon pushed away from him, and yanked his jeans back up with an awkward movement. Though his back was still expanding and contracting like a bellows, he kept his head down, his body turned away from them. “I can’t do that again,” he said. “This isn’t who I am.”

He was speaking to Anwyn, even though he was looking at neither of them. But she didn’t hear him. “Gideon,” Daegan said urgently. “A nother time.”

Gideon glanced up sharply. Daegan realized it revealed just how upset he was, because he hadn’t anticipated the seizure this time. It had already gripped her with both hands, propelling her out of the chair with a snarl, her eyes red and fangs bared.

“Stay back.” Daegan intercepted her before she could launch herself, taking her back down to the ground, pinioning arms and legs. “Get another vial of the sire’s blood.”

“Death!” she screamed. “We must die!”

“Everyone does,
cher
,” he agreed, as Gideon bolted.

This attack had come on the heels of pleasure, stealing its memory. As her agony tore into his heart, Daegan wondered how they would convince her life was worth living if his worst fear came true. If she had to live with the seizures for the rest of her life. A vampire’s immortal lifespan.

22

G
IDEON strode through the streets. It was light, headed toward lunchtime. He felt decent, finally having a solid eight hours’ sleep, because they’d all agreed that he and Daegan would take shifts with her. Everyone could stay on the top of their game that way. Since it limited his exposure to the other male, he didn’t mind. But he’d told the vamp he’d relieve him at noon, so he needed to get back shortly.

Every time she was given her sire’s blood, the seizures were more intense than at any other time. And she was getting that blood every few hours, far more often than a normal transition vampire. Daegan apparently had seen bad transitions before, and indicated that giving more of the sire’s blood, more often, could sometimes help.

Daegan needed to go out for fresh blood tonight. Gideon knew Anwyn was prodding him to do just that. The vampire might be like some freakishly engineered supersoldier, even for a vamp, but he needed something more than sleep. He was pale.

Gideon had been braced for Anwyn to try to get him to donate, but she hadn’t. It had surprised him enough to ask her about it, and she’d told him that Daegan flatly refused to consider it. Which prompted two sets of disturbing thoughts. One, that she had possibly offered him the option, even knowing how Gideon felt about it, and two, that for some inexplicable reason, he didn’t want Gideon’s blood.

Why the hell should he care? Because it was a puzzle that didn’t have an answer, and Gideon wasn’t fond of those. Not when it came to vampires. Unanswered questions tended to come back and smack you in the ass, and not in any kind of pleasurable way. Not that he would find being smacked in the ass pleasurable. He was just saying . . .

Christ
. As he had for the past few days, when his thoughts tried to go back to that night, to the sight of a male hand wrapped around his cock, the feel of a hard, muscular body behind him while Anwyn’s tempted him in front, he broke into a jog. Then a flat-out run. He called on as much speed as his heart could give him, tearing past the startled gazes of human denizens of the day, sent even the more aggressive shrinking back into the shadows with his cold stare. Despite his need to escape, he was aware that his feet directed him in ten-block laps, never going farther than that from Atlantis. Occasionally, he reached out, touched the open door to a sleeping woman’s mind.

She wasn’t having nightmares right now, thank God. As he slowed to a half jog, he received a drift of innocuous images, no real connection, like clouds in the sky. When one did form a coherent picture, it was an unsettling and yet compelling one. She dreamed of a black car, a shiny BMW, that had slowed to a stop in heavy traffic. Surrounded by tall buildings, people, acres of concrete, it was closed in and crowded. Even as an observer, he needed to draw a deeper breath than his exertion made possible.

Anwyn’s slim arm emerged out of the car window as a butterfly floated by. The delicate creature chose to rest on her fingers, as if it knew there was nothing to fear. It had no concern or awareness of its alien environment, even though it should be fluttering over a meadow of sweet grass and yellow flowers. Drifting up into a blue sky punctured not by skyscrapers and smog, but by darting birds, dragonflies and sailing clouds.

As Anwyn turned her hand, the butterfly moved into her palm. Her fingers came up, slow, forming a bowl, and then closed over it, holding the creature within that gentle cage. The butterfly continued to rest, pumping its wings. Then her fingers opened and it flew away, wherever butterflies went.

The clouds closed back in, her mind again floating amid a guileless sky.

Gideon leaned against the wall, breathing hard, gulping for oxygen. He realized he’d run the circuit five, maybe ten times, and only now had he run out of breath. Even two marks had increased his strength and endurance. His senses were razor sharp. His physical senses, at least. His head was stuffed with cotton, making it hard to separate one thought or feeling from another. Or Anwyn’s.

When his phone vibrated, he thought about ignoring it. Anwyn would call with her mind. But then again, it could be Daegan, so he withdrew it.
Jacob
. Intuitive bastard. Gideon had thought about calling him, because there was no one else, but one, it was broad daylight in South America, where they were visiting Lord Mason at the moment. It was Jacob’s bedtime. Two, there was no way he could have that conversation. So he’d quelled the urge, and yet here Jacob was, on the line. Being a night owl, or whatever the reverse was for a vampire. Fine. He deserved what he got.

He snapped it open. “Have you fucked guys for her?” he demanded.

He wanted to ask the entirely reverse question—
Have you let a guy fuck you?
—but he just couldn’t go there. Had that night with Lyssa and Jacob done something to him? Fuck, no. He didn’t . . . Not once had he wanted Jacob during that interlude with Lyssa, and the idea of it repulsed him, his own brother. But maybe he’d gotten even more twisted and perverse since then. Maybe they were right about the things that happened to your mind when you spent too much time alone. Too much time alone, and stalking and killing vampires. Hiring the occasional hooker. Yeah, he was the poster boy for deviance.

But on his run, he’d reviewed every guy he’d ever met. Fellow football players in high school, some of the vampire hunters he’d worked so closely with. Hell, stripping down for hunting missions, he’d seen plenty naked. Nothing. Not even a twinge. And yet his mind kept coming back to Daegan, in a lithe, loose squat by the music player, the shirt pulling over his broad shoulders. The way the man had studied his wrist gauntlet, the crease in his brow when he asked questions about it.

He’d even had an involuntary half dream about him. Coming up behind him at that music player, curling his fingers in the shirt, drawing Daegan to his feet. But Anwyn was behind Gideon, turning him around, moving into his arms, pushing him back into Daegan’s embrace, her scent surrounding them both. Her desire to command him took over everything as her fangs pierced him as delicately as the woman herself. And Daegan’s hands slid just as possessively over hers on his ass, around to his hips, as his fangs sank into him on the other side . . . He’d woken, sweating and cursing, and hard as a rock, still experiencing erotic tremors from the things he couldn’t face now.

Distantly, he was aware that Jacob had cleared his throat at his jarring greeting. “Hold on a minute.” Background noises faded as if his brother had stepped into a room for privacy. “Mr. Ingram and his grandson were in the kitchen with us. I thought this might be a little inappropriate for a kid’s ears. Would you like to repeat that now?”

Not likely.
“You heard me well enough. Shit.” Gideon went to a squat. A strolling pimp eyed him, but when Gideon flipped out his switchblade to pare his nails, the man broke into a brisk walk, eyes wisely turning away. “Damn it, Jacob.”

“You’ve gotten yourself involved with a female vampire somehow, haven’t you?”

“It’s complicated, and I’m not in the mood to explain.”
Or ready, for that matter, until I get it sorted out myself.
“If you laugh, I swear I will come up there just to beat the shit out of you.”
And though you’re still a big, badass vampire, I’m stronger now, too. I might get in a punch or two before you drill me through a wall.

A long pause. “Believe me, laughter was not my first response. Gideon . . . did she . . . Are you marked?”

“I would expect that’s why I called you earlier,” Gideon said between gritted teeth.

The mixed stream of Gaelic and Anglo curses was impressive, not only for the creativity, but for the fact that Jacob didn’t rile easily, despite their shared Irish blood. When he did, he riled up hard. It made Gideon feel better. Of course, he thrived on adversity, asshole that he was.

“Gideon, hell, I don’t even know where to start. You know about vampires, the way they fight, how to take one down. But do you understand what it’s like to live with them? As part of their lives? It’s not your kind of life. Not even close.”

“It’s not permanent. It’s only two marks, helping her out until she gets a real servant. Would you stop being a mother hen and answer the fucking question?”

“Yes. I have.”

It was so direct, Gideon had to rewind. “Things like that are part of being a servant,” Jacob added.

“Like bringing her tea or doing her nails.” Gideon stared at the concrete ground. “How’d you feel about it? You hated it, but you did it for her?”

“That would be the cowardly response.” Jacob gave a half chuckle. Envy gripped Gideon. His brother sounded so relaxed about fucking a male, while his gut was churning over one guy putting his hands
over
his hands on his dick, not even touching it directly.

“No, I didn’t hate it. There were times, at the beginning, it was difficult, but . . . when you surrender everything you are to a vampire, it’s different. It’s not about what you think you can do. It’s learning that there isn’t anything you won’t do to please her, and by pleasing her, you please yourself. You leave behind the idea that you have boundaries. She sets the boundaries. Everything she wants you to do is a way to prove your love and devotion to her, and you trust her to never ask too much. When you do that, you find out there’s lots of things about sex that become within those limits. Does that make sense?”

“Not at this point, no. But in a scary way, yeah. Shit, I’m so fucked-up, Jacob.”

“Who is she?”

“She’s new. The one turned by force, Jacob, and pretty violently. They did other things to her, too.”

Jacob’s snarl was impressively menacing, even over the phone. “Where are they?”

On one thing he and Jacob had always seen eye to eye. Guys who hurt women, kids or animals deserved to be tortured, killed, then brought back to life to do it all over to them again. “Two of them dead,” Gideon said with small satisfaction. “The sire’s on ice somewhere, I think. Daegan handled them. Got the sire’s blood for her. We’ve . . . ah, been helping her with her transition.”

“Okay, the earlier phone call is making sense. But the rest . . .”

“Not ready to answer any more questions.”

Another of those pauses, but this time Gideon felt his brother’s compassion in his silence. “I know you don’t want to leave her, but do you need to come home? We’re headed back to Atlanta soon and you’ve always got a bed there. Or you could come here. Mason would love the chance to kick your ass at poker.”

“He didn’t lose enough last time?”

Home.
Jacob said it so easily, but Gideon thought of it as Jacob’s home. Would he ever feel he had a home? His mind drifted toward Anwyn and Daegan, and more half-baked yearnings that proved how close he was to complete madness. “Not now. Thanks, though. I gotta go.”

“All right. But you better call again soon, or I’ll come kick
your
ass.”

“You can try. You still have a tendency to give away your uppercut before you punch, no matter how fast you make it.” Never mind that the power behind it could remove Gideon’s head from his shoulders.

“I’ll just settle for the kick to the groin, then.”

“A girl’s trick. Pussy.”

“Takes one to know one. Prick.” While there was worry in Jacob’s voice as Gideon cut the line, he knew his brother would deal with it. If Jacob hadn’t learned to accept the uncertainty of Gideon’s life, Jacob’s far-too-pretty hair would have fallen out long ago.

It was time to go back, and not just to relieve Daegan. He was feeling a pull back there. Toward Anwyn, wanting to make sure she was okay. He ignored the fleeting concern about Daegan again. He couldn’t deal with that right now, and wouldn’t. But when he closed his eyes, he remembered the two of them in that dream, Anwyn’s mouth on him, Daegan’s hands, and how his mind settled into a curious place, disembodied and easy, drifting and lust-filled at once.

Everything she wants you to do is a way to prove your love and devotion to her.
Was it that? He wanted to say it was, but there was something else bothering the hell out of him, something he could hardly say in his own mind, let alone ask Jacob.
Did you ever hunger for his touch like you do for hers?

He was truly fucked-up. It didn’t matter, though. Anwyn needed him. He could hear her now, awake and seeking him. Breaking into a jog, he headed for Atlantis.

Gideon.
That simple call, followed by his brief acknowledgment, reassured and amazed her more than she’d expected.

Daegan was worrying her. She knew he needed fresh blood. He’d said he’d go out for it tonight. If he didn’t, she and Gideon would badger him together, because she knew Gideon was concerned about it as well. Though he amused her by refusing to admit it, since she could clearly see it in his mind, the situation didn’t amuse her at all. Because more than that was wrong with the male vampire.

By mutual unspoken agreement, she and Daegan hadn’t really discussed anything of significance when they were together, during the shifts when Gideon was sleeping. He helped her practice drawing that mind curtain, instructed her in a variety of things she’d need to know as a vampire. He was affectionate, touching her on occasion, sensitive to the emotional roller coaster that attended her seizures. He tenderly cleaned her up, held her during them so she didn’t have to use the chains. In all ways, the vampire was thoughtful, caring, and everything she could want.