The Mark of the Vampire Queen (27 page)

Now he settled his arm around her back, holding her close to him, her body cradled between his knees. Her hand curled loosely around his hip, letting him hold her weight in his one arm as she drank.

Despite her pleasurably distracting thoughts, holding her this way made his mind turn back to his primary concern. He wished she'd let him take her home, care for her. With every passing hour, a dread was growing in his belly. He wanted her to be where she was happiest. With her roses and her dogs.

Devlin wants to buy you a drink. Why don't you plan on joining him after you get me ready? You can meet me at the outdoor pavilion for the dinner. I won't need you there until around nine. I have some things to do. Some acquaintances to meet.

She pulled away, taking his hand and placing it against the bite, a reminder to hold pressure. Rising and moving toward the bathing area, she slid off the straps of her nightgown, letting it pool at her feet. She stepped out of it, continued toward the tub. “He's a good man. I'd like you to honor him with your company. It will send a message to his Mistress that she has my favor.”

He cursed his overprotectiveness, which often provoked this need in her to push him away, force him to acknowledge his first responsibility to her as her servant. Her tone was indifferent, her attitude as imperious as ever as she left the gown for him to pick up. Gliding into the bathing area, a small, raven-haired goddess with skin like cream, she closed the door, sending a ripple of annoyance through him. As he was sure she knew it would.

There was nothing, no emotion she couldn't wrest from him. He supposed that was the way loving someone was. Adventure, exhilaration. Quiet contentment. The desire to strangle her.

Or maybe that was just the way being in love with Lady Lyssa was. He'd never been in love with anyone else. Not in this life, and perhaps not in any other.

 

“You know, in the central courtyard they're offering drinks served on the bellies of women. The women lie on a marble slab, tip the wine onto their stomachs and men suck it off their skin, drinking from their navels.”

“You saying you'd rather be doing that than drinking a beer with me?”

Devlin gave Jacob a sardonic look. “It's a privilege offered to the vamps. Or I'd ditch your arse, no worries.”

“I'd have beaten you there.”

Devlin chuckled, touching his beer to Jacob's as they sat companionably on the lower verandah wall, feet dangling over the twenty-foot drop as they faced the ocean view. “Bullshit. You're gone over that Mistress of yours. Plus, you run like a one-legged girl.”

“That's a long fall there,” Jacob noted.

“Yes. Yes, it is.” Devlin grinned. “Anytime you feel lucky, Irish.”

Jacob would have retorted, but his eyes had narrowed.

Carnal.

He knew Carnal was here, but it was the first time he'd seen him. The tall vampire wore a tuxedo and cape—a pretentious affectation in Jacob's opinion—and had his dark hair pulled back from his face, emphasizing the angular, cruel planes. He strode over the lower lawn, meeting two other vampires who were obviously waiting for him. He had no servant with him, but Jacob didn't dare to hope that meant he hadn't picked another victim to replace Melinda.

“Friend of yours?”

“Hardly. Who's he meeting there?”

“Different versions of the same brand of wanker,” Devlin observed frankly. “That's Lords Hollenbeck and Martingale. They fancy themselves rebels against the establishment, but they're thugs. To my way of thinking, Council's gone soft on their kind. They think they can reason with them, give them bones to keep them in line when anyone with eyes can see all they're out for is the wholesale destruction of the Council so they can set themselves up as supreme tyrants. And God help humans—not just the servants—if they succeed.”

“You think they're up to something?” Jacob watched Carnal move away with the other two, taking wine from a passing servant with barely a glance at her.

“Rumor is they're planning some political coup at the big meeting tomorrow.” Devlin took another swallow from the beer as if trying to clean the taste from his mouth. “That they're going to introduce a motion on the floor to overthrow the policies they find so irritating. Like not being able to tear open a human's throat in broad moonlight on busy city street corners every other day.”

“They make motions.” Jacob tried to get his mind around that.

“Abso-fucking-lutely. They're fanatical about their Roberts' Rules of Order.” But Devlin looked uneasy. “Sometimes I think our world is about to change, Irish. And with vampires, it was already a pretty unstable world to begin with. They could try to oust the Council. If they get enough votes, they could do it. All hell will break loose.”

They drank in silence for another few moments. There was no answer to it. Jacob knew it, just as he suspected Devlin did. They just had to be prepared for what would come.

“Psychopathic poser,” Devlin muttered, watching Carnal disappear through one of the castle archways.

Jacob bit back a smile. “That's a Yank term.”

“And a good one. Malachi's impressed with your skills, by the way.” Devlin shifted to a lighter tone. “It's not easy to spar with him, let alone a real fight like that.”

“Particularly when he called in reinforcements.”

“Ah.” Devlin waved his beer dismissively. “Malachi's actually not a bad sort when it comes to most things. He was following his Master's orders. Belizar wanted you taken down a notch and tested.

“Malachi
is
a sexist asshole, though. He's got that whole cultural, men-should-hold-all-the-power thing going. He's been a servant for ninety years; you'd think he'd get past it. But he got powerfully ticked off the other night when Lord Brian's servant showed he didn't know what the hell he was talking about when they got into a debate on global warming.”

“Debra?”

“Yeah, that was her name. Soon after that, she got drafted into being one of the entertainments. Malachi probably ratted her out, told Belizar there was a midlevel new servant who wasn't doing her time in the trenches.”

“I should have speared him through his balls. Why would Belizar feel I need to be tested specifically?”

Devlin gave him a sidelong glance. “I keep forgetting how new you are. Male–female vampire dynamics have some very old-world prejudices. Male vamps think the females are at risk for getting overly attached to their male servants. Something happened a few years back and a male servant was executed. It struck a spark on the fertilizer pile of the theory.”

“Executed?”

“I was at the Gathering where it happened.” A shadow crossed Devlin's face as he looked out at the ocean. “A female vamp in the higher ranks was acting all moony over her servant, openly favoring him in situations where servants are supposed to take a backseat. And he was getting full of himself over it. He mouthed off to a Council member, and was stupid enough to throw a punch. The female vamp didn't call him to task. Instead, she tried to protect him. Even offered her own life as forfeit. Bam, it was all over then. He was executed on the spot, and she was imprisoned in a coffin for a month. She was forced to marry a vampire lord senior in age and chosen by the Council. She chose to meet the sun.”

As Jacob looked down pensively, Devlin shook his head. “It was bad before then, but in a low-level way. Now the male vamps are positively rabid on the issue of female vamps and their servants. My lady thinks it's just a typical power-play issue. Male vamps are possessive, but they also like power. They don't necessarily like sharing it with the females, and they're looking for ways to relegate them to second string.”

He sighed. “When it comes down to it, no matter how much we love our ladies, we love them best by remembering our place. You won't find me stepping out of line, not if it means I'd endanger my Danny.” He smiled sheepishly at Jacob's ironic glance. “Lady Daniela, I mean.” He tapped his beer against Jacob's. “Your Mistress is under the microscope these days in particular.”

Jacob's head rose. “What do you mean?”

“This can't be a surprise to you.” Devlin gave him an even look. “How did the most powerful vampire on earth let her husband get murdered by a mere human? How did a mere human kill the second most powerful vampire on earth without help? The only thing that has kept those questions to a dull roar is that Lyssa killed her servant for his transgression, and a select few in power knew Lord Rex was succumbing big time to the Ennui, which is basically the vampire brand of Alzheimer's.”

Jacob turned and brought his feet back to the Mexican tile floor of the verandah, leaning his hip against the wall.

“Did you know Rex?”

Devlin shook his head. “Not much. My lady knew him…before he changed.” He glanced cautiously at Jacob. “She said he was powerful, intelligent. Not a warm, nurturing sort, very competitive. But he loved your lady. Lady Danny said his love was so strong for Lady Lyssa it almost made up for his weaknesses. Until they caught up with him.” He turned and leaned back on the wall, mirroring Jacob. “Lady Lyssa is considered a fucking force of nature. No one really knows the full extent of her strength. The only one who might be able to stand toe-to-toe with her is Lord Mason. Like her, he has more secrets and mysteries than the rumormongers can keep up with.”

“And that's bad?”

“Not bad. Just peculiar. Vamps like a mystery. If they don't understand it, they do their best to pick it apart. But it's more than that with her. Lady Lyssa is very important to all the Council supporters for what she symbolizes, as well as what she knows and can do. Danny doesn't make any bones about it. Lyssa isn't just queen. She's the Council's champion.”

“Their muscle.” Jacob recalled his earlier thought.

“You got it. Whereas Carnal and his crowd would build their kingdom on the illusion of power, and use blood to keep it painted as reality. Watch your lady's back, mate. Part of the reason I wanted a beer with you is to let you know folks like me will help watch yours while you do.” He grinned. “You're okay. I like the way you handle yourself, and some of these buggers can get awfully stodgy and hoity-toity. We can help keep their reality a little bit more real. That's what mates are for.”

He straightened, checking his watch. “Time to go. If you can, come back here around noon tomorrow. There's a gathering of servants, sort of a tradesman meeting. It's a chance for those like you who haven't been in it as long to ask questions, the insider tips on things to make our jobs easier. Then, after that, we get pissed on drink and tell stories.” He winked, then sobered somewhat. “It's a good way to loosen up some before the Ball and the Court after that. If something intense is going to happen, it's going to happen at one of those. Just between you and me, I always wish we could go home after the second day.”

T
HE
courtyard where the evening's entertainments were being held was in the center of the castle. The area was cobblestoned and embedded with elaborate fountains that sparkled with lights under a sky filled with stars. Tall maypoles with fluttering, colorful ribbons marked out areas for groupings of lords and ladies and the various entertainments. Jugglers moved in and out of these boundaries, handling flame torches whose arcing paths and rush of sound gave the night a mystical flavor.

Servants of both genders in various harem wear performed graceful, sinuous belly dances and acrobatic feats for their intently watching vampire audience. Musicians and bards played flutes and steel drums in different corners. There were even carnival tricks Jacob recognized, like the eating of fire. On the outskirts of these areas were small tents for the jewelers and craftsmen his Mistress had mentioned. He saw the blacksmith in one corner doing a busy trade with his branding irons. It reminded him of a cross between the Faire they'd attended and a medical convention with pharmaceutical vendors waiting patiently on the outskirts.

He found his Mistress easily enough. In the center of the courtyard the largest marked-out area was for the Council. Divans for the members and his lady had been provided, as well as cushions for those they invited to join them around the most dramatic of the entertainment displays.

The snug silver wraparound dress she wore had a fan train in the back, the point of which drew attention to the top point of her buttocks. The back of the dress was low enough to drive a man to distraction wondering if he'd get a glimpse of that provocative dip at the tailbone. Her hair was done as he'd dressed it, though they'd agreed on a twist over her shoulder that complemented the onyx stone necklace she wore and matching onyx and diamond earrings. The way she reclined on her hip, the dress hugged her body and created a pleasing, curvy terrain from her shoulder to her slender ankles, one of which was adorned with a thin diamond anklet. She wore silver ankle-strap sandals. With one hand lying loosely on her hip, she could have been Cleopatra. More than one man was eyeing her appreciatively, even though there was of course no shortage of beautiful women. She simply stood out.

He looked at her and saw the vampire queen, a warrioress. A cruel tyrant, a gentle nurse. A girl. A cold, haughty bitch, a generous and loving woman. A woman who loved fiercely. She'd stayed by a husband who'd been lost to violent madness. She'd shielded Thomas with her own life and risked all the power she was now trying to protect, all for the benefit of others.

Nothing ever just for herself. Except perhaps for the one time she'd reached out a hand into the fiery desert sun to draw a knight back into her embrace.

He shifted his attention to the central entertainment. Twelve female servants, all naked and kneeling in a circle. To enhance the impression of a flower in the best Isadora Duncan tradition, they were curled forward, their elbows and arms stretched out, foreheads pressed to the stones. Since they all had long hair in various colors, the hair was fanned out in a perfect shape, trimmed to form scalloping around the outer edge of the circle. Real flower petals in different hues were scattered over their backs. In the center of the circle formed by their bodies stood twelve black men of extremely dark complexion, also naked. They had their heads bowed and arms around each other's shoulders so the overall effect was of a white-petaled flower with a brown center, like a daisy scattered with color from those strewn petals.

He'd found Debra at last. She was one of the prostrate women. He recognized the others as equally midlevel-ranked servants. It was too much to hope the purpose of the artistic arrangement was just for aesthetic enjoyment.

Noting that the servants of the Council members who had arrived were kneeling at the feet of their respective Masters and Mistresses, he eased into the circle of divans and did the same at the feet of his Mistress. His palm itched to run along the silk-clad line of her hip and feel her bottom through the thin material. His lady had an exceptional ass. While he was all too aware after his conversation with Devlin what wasn't advisable, he wanted to give her some kind of tactile awareness of his presence.

You think I don't feel your heat the moment you come into a room, Sir Vagabond?

In answer, he did ease his hand onto her foot. He braced his thumb on the thin heel, his fingers lightly curled over her ankle.

Sitting there as regal as the queen she was, so beautiful most men would never dream that they'd have a right to touch her, he couldn't help but think of her sleep-rumpled in his arms, soft and yielding, her fangs in his throat, her slim hand resting on his chest. As beautiful as she was now, he thought she was perhaps even more beautiful like that.

You are stroking my ego. The ego of an old, old woman.

He stifled a smile, maintaining the solemn mien expected, though he wondered if the others were conducting similarly entertaining dialogues with their Masters or Mistresses.
You are ancient, my lady. As a goddess is ancient. You are why the word
timeless
exists.

Charmer. Stop preying on me with your distracting thoughts and behave.

He turned his attention to observation. Lyssa had one invited guest. Sitting on the cushions next to her divan was Lady Daniela. Devlin had arrived, though he stood at attention to her at the outside of the circle. Daniela was leaned forward, the ladies head-to-head, sharing murmured confidences. Because he picked up a rare easiness in his lady's manner toward Devlin's Mistress, the way most women might treat a friend, Jacob studied the woman with interest.

Daniela was gold to Lyssa's raven. Her hair was like the spun gold of fairy tales, dressed in beads and ribbons. She wore a Roman-type garb, soft white silk, the fabric defined by a crisscrossing of silken cord with tassels of gemstones made to complement the beaten gold collar around her throat and pendants at her lobes. Her eyes were deep blue, enhancing the soft beauty of her face. There was a good-naturedness there that seemed unusually revealing for a vampire. He knew enough not to underestimate any vampire, however. Even one who looked as if she should have a flock of bluebirds chattering over her head. He suspected each vampire tailored his or her strengths to enhance their allure. For Lyssa, it was her dark mystery. For Lady Danny, it was disarming goodness.

Looking at the blond vampire, Jacob suspected she could convince a man that he'd found a treasure to take to his bed as well as home to meet his parents. Whom she could easily drink for lunch.

Lord Uthe had arrived, filling the last empty divan. When he gave a slight bow to Lyssa, she nodded in return. Jacob had exchanged many correspondences with Uthe's servant over the past couple of months, so Jacob knew Lyssa rightly recognized him as the strongest force for stability on the Council.

Lord Belizar rose, drawing the attention of the gathered circle and those beyond it. The courtyard began to quiet down. The individual entertainers withdrew to the outskirts, making the dual ring of servants, the “flower,” the center of attention.

“Now that all Council members, servants and their guests are here, we have a special entertainment planned.” His gaze flickered over Jacob. “Many of you witnessed the fine display of weaponry this afternoon. Lady Lyssa's new servant is indeed a credit to her, a worthy opponent. As such, we are going to pay him a special honor. He will be the main focus of our event this evening.”

Oh, holy Christ on buttered toast.

At Belizar's gesture, the black men moved forward and knelt, one man behind each woman. A motor engaged, eliciting a murmur from the assembled, because the men had been concealing a sculpture anchored on the mirrored center of a dais that now rose to form a new center within the flower arrangement. The sculpture was a smooth, stylized version of a reclined nude male body, with all the dips necessary to drape a woman over it in a variety of provocative poses. The nude body also had an erect, angled phallus.

“Lady Lyssa's servant is commanded to choose any petal among this flower of slaves and bring her onto the dais to service him to climax with her mouth.”

Belizar did not even deign to look toward Jacob as he delivered the edict. “As Lyssa's servant is serviced, the lower tier of men will stoke their lust in the succulent fruit kneeling before them. When they prepare to climax, they will do so simultaneously. An impressive display, if they manage it.”

He bowed in Lyssa's direction. “As with all of our games, my lady, I offer you a wild card you may utilize at any point. To give your servant an inspired and prolonged performance, we now offer him an aphrodisiac, in case he has the common human fear of performing in public.”

Laughter swept the crowd. Jacob glanced toward Lyssa, but her expression was neutral, her mind silent, telling him she expected him to do what was being asked of him.

Christ.

A masked servant was allowed inside the circle of divans. She stepped to Jacob's side with a deep curtsy of deference to Lyssa. It was not an easy maneuver since she was having to keep her back ramrod straight. Around her throat was a silken garrote attached to a silver cup. The cup floated on top of a bowl of crimson fluid held in her cleavage by way of a rigid parallel harness that squeezed the generous breasts and distended the nipples. Jacob noticed that when he lifted the cup, he would have to either bring her close enough to press her breasts and the rest of her against him, or the garrote would choke her.

“The restraint is designed by our own Lady Marquet from the Canadian provinces,” Belizar explained. “It is available for order through her servant if you like it. There are those who of course choose to make our water girl stand her ground while they drink, testing her fortitude and trust as they cut off her air. Others prefer to bring her very close and allow her hands to wander as they will.”

The masked slave had brown eyes and carefully trimmed nails. A birthmark on her right breast. A gasp swept through the crowd as Jacob drew the knife he carried beneath the back waistband of his slacks. The torchlight flashed off the blade as he sliced through the garrote strap. With anger, he noted the deep marks on her throat caused by those who'd done as Belizar described.

Feel her pussy, Jacob.
Lyssa's voice echoed in his head.
Obey me. Reach between her legs and feel her.

Reluctantly, he did. The girl watched him with heavy-lidded eyes that suggested prolonged exposure to inhaling the libation beneath her nose might be as effective as drinking it. She was soaked. At his faintest touch she shuddered, parting her lips.

“Your servant is still young enough to be affected by puritanical qualms, Lady Lyssa.” While Belizar's voice suggested he was simply amused by Jacob's reaction, the hard look in his eyes when Jacob turned his attention to him did not.

“But there is a pleasure in that as well,” Lady Helga, another Council member, pointed out. “It's intriguing to watch them learn and lose such inhibitions.”

Jacob decided that all that was missing was a set of bars dividing the humans from the vampires. And one of those gumball machines which, for a quarter, would provide a small handful of food to feed the zoo animals, or in this case, the zoo humans.

With vicious satisfaction, Jacob tipped the bowl, watched the red fluid rush down the girl's stomach, over her shaved mons and down her thighs to her bare feet. Turning away, he bowed deeply to Lyssa. “I need no such aid,” he said. “Just the pleasure of my lady's attention and command will keep me hard more than long enough.”

At the appreciative reaction from his audience, Belizar's jaw tightened. But he inclined his head. “Very well. Choose the woman you desire, Irishman.”

He'd been a showman most of his adult life. He'd learned enough about vampires to know what they appreciated, though it was a dangerous line to walk. Jacob raised a brow and pivoted more fully toward Lyssa, giving her a deliberate look. A smatter of amusement and applause passed through the group.

“Every man's choice,” Lord Uthe called out. “But not an option, servant. Choose from the flower.”

Others from outside the canopy had gathered to watch the entertainment, reminding him of his time in the circus, though the performances offered had been nothing like this. Jacob suspected Carnal was out there, but he didn't look for him. He really didn't want to know if the bastard would be watching this.

My lady, would you choose?

She shook her head and surprised him by speaking. “I want to see your choice.”

Quelling an uneasy feeling at the lightness of her response, the faint smile on her lips that seemed stiff to him, he began a slow walk around the outer perimeter of the “petals.” As he considered each one, he kept in mind the entertainment of his audience. He paused, considered, moved on, increasing tension and speculation. There were some bets being placed.

All the women were beautiful. Their raised haunches had been oiled to a high polish, same as the bodies of the dark-skinned men behind them who had set their fingers against the white flesh of the hips, preparing to drive deep. Either these men were specifically selected for their equipment or the stereotype about black men was exponentially true. It was not going to be an easy entry for most of the women.

Even worse, Belizar was now explaining that the men would be fucking the asses of the women displayed before them. Because of that, each woman selected was a virgin to anal sex, which would add a dose of pain and some anticipatory fear to the mix.

Part of him abhorred it. Part of him was grudgingly fascinated. He himself had been repeatedly aroused by all the games vampires devised to plumb the depths of human sensuality. He couldn't deny the mores of a lifetime had been challenged considerably in his lady's service. Seanna had stated it as much less than a day ago.
“It makes you hot, doesn't it?”