The Mark of the Vampire Queen (35 page)

They reached the chamber before Mason's prediction came to pass, thank the gods. Just as Jacob gained the threshold, the vampire's grip on him faltered and he shuddered, his jaw flexing. He looked at Jacob, then his gaze darted across the room.

“Let it go,” Jacob gasped. “We're here, my lord. Do not suffer further on our account.”

The pain was receding, a blissful sign the attack was passing. However, the fact it had affected him as harshly as it had his lady told him they were close. The next one could be the final one.

When Mason's expression eased, his lady burst into Jacob's mind with the force of an asteroid, knocking him to his knees once more as her energy spun around wildly. First she reassured herself of the connection, then she sought understanding of what had been blocking her. Feeling her hands on his head, he looked up as she gripped his chin, her nails biting cruelly into the skin beneath his beard, into the vulnerable throat.

The relief at the pass of the attack fled as he realized it might be far more difficult to get her to agree to the treatment when she had the ability and strength to resist it. But though strength surged back into his own limbs, a curious lassitude remained, telling him she hadn't recovered fully despite the appearance to the contrary.

Her eyes glittered with fire, her mouth tightening into a hard line. Before he could call out a warning or protest, she'd left him. Mason was slammed up against the wall, so hard the elegant, thick planking cracked. Lyssa's head whipped around as several Council members started forward. Her fangs glittered, her eyes glowing with hellfire.

When Jacob stood, he had to hold on to the edge of the table. He wondered where she was finding the reserve of strength to put on this show when he could feel her weakness in the marrow of his bones. There was a tingling, unpleasant heat in the same location, as if he was being microwaved. It was making the room warmer than it should have been.

Her eyes moved in slight, erratic motions as if she were reading small type, then her expression shifted to Brian and Debra. For the moment Mason was not fighting her hold, though his hand had closed over the wrist of her hand, holding him pinned.

There was a tray on the table with sterile pads. A cloth covered whatever else was on it. The Council members were arrayed tensely around the chamber, their faces somber. Watching her.

“No,” she whispered. She released Mason. “No.” More firmly.

“Lady Lyssa.” Lord Uthe spoke first. “Perhaps your servant misrepresented the situation. Lord Brian has found a cure to your illness. You can walk out of this room in thirty minutes, completely healed.”

“No,” she said.

I'm sorry, my lady. But I will not let you die.

Lyssa turned. The Council members were moving into a semi-circle around her. Brian looked torn between a scientist's overwhelming eagerness to prove his cure before the most prestigious of his sponsors, and a man's concern for her. Lyssa knew he had compassion, but it was misplaced at the moment. He should be worrying for his own well-being.

“I will not submit to this.”

“With the greatest respect, my lady, our queen.” Lord Uthe bowed. His expression was stern, implacable. “We believe your judgment is already too impaired to make that decision. We seek only to restore you to yourself.”

She curled her lip. “Then I suggest you try to make me.”

Despite the blood still spattering her dress, no one doubted she could be deadly. If anything, Jacob knew it just reminded all present of what she could do. The amount of strength she had was the only thing in question. He suspected he and Mason were the only ones who knew it was not as formidable as it appeared.

When Uthe's expression shifted to Mason as if reading Jacob's thoughts, Lyssa's did the same. “Don't even think of challenging me, Mason.”

“On a good day, a fight between us might go either way. Today, I think you know I'll win.” He met her furious gaze with a steady amber one, a determined light there that said he would make good on the promise. “But it would break my heart. Please don't make me prove it.”

“My lady, don't—” Jacob spoke as she turned to square off with the vampire. Mason tensed.

You be still.
When she flicked her attention at him like the sharp end of a knife, she was the lady he knew, even as he could feel the vibrations of dull pain. There was no separation in their symptoms now. Her body was like the shore before a tide, getting ready for the next flood of spasms to roll in.

My lady, please. We don't have time.

Her gaze shifted to Brian. “I'm understanding his thoughts correctly, am I not?”

Her voice was ice, and Jacob didn't blame Brian for the hesitancy with which he responded. They were watching her like a roomful of children trapped with a poisonous and angry snake. “Yes, my lady. We have found a cure. If we inject the serum into your servant and you drink from him, it will destroy the virus entirely. That is what our cell models and data from our test subjects tell us.

“Test subjects?” Her voice dropped, deceptively soft. “Servants you murdered.”

“Servants who sacrificed themselves for the betterment of our species. Their loss regrettable but valued.” Belizar spoke when Brian could not seem to find an answer, his discomfiture obvious.

“I was not speaking to you,” she snapped. Her gaze never left Brian. “So the serum is injected into Jacob. What then?”

“My lady.” Jacob felt his heart lurch with a different but no less potent pain as she refused to turn and acknowledge him. “You said you trust my judgment. You've said as much numerous times over these past several months.”

“I was wrong.”

Brian swallowed, pressed on. “It infects his blood, mixes. How much does he weigh?”

“A hundred and ninety-eight pounds,” Jacob said before she sent him a searing look.

“It will take approximately eleven minutes for the integration,” Brian said hastily. “We draw a sample to be sure. Then the vampire drinks.” He paused. “You drain his blood, though we think someone of your size would be cured with no more than two quarts.”

“But it will still kill him.”

“The serum is deadly poison to a human, even a marked one.” He nodded once, a quick jerk.

“He is already dead if you die, my lady,” Lady Helga offered in a quiet voice. “You serve no one with your sacrifice.”

And if you live, my lady…

Jacob interjected the thought and was rewarded with a flash of pain through his head like electric current.

Don't make me tell you again.

His jaw hardened, and he reached out, clamped a hand on her wrist, drawing her startled attention. He straightened to his full height despite the fire in his gut, meeting her fiery expression with the flared temper of his own. “You told me. Protect what is mine. No matter what, that is my first priority.”
If you live, the people of your territory remain safe until you can get this Council to agree to a permanent pardon or changing the rules altogether. You can make sure that Carnal and his cronies don't take advantage of this group. This Council needs their queen awhile longer. You know they do.

She pulled her arm away. “You bastard.”

He inclined his head. “It doesn't change the truth of it, does it, then?”

She was furious, frightened, hurt and dangerous. While he knew some of it was the disease, much of it was her resistance to losing control of the situation.
Perhaps it would have been better that first night if you'd let me put
you
on the St. Andrew's Cross. Put the manacles on you, the ones you couldn't break. You told me, “True submission is not only the most courageous act a person can commit to another, it's an act of faith. Of trust.” Like now.

She turned a startled gaze to him, her mind on that night with him, when everything had been dark sensuality, their relationship all tempting possibilities. But was she capable of fully trusting any human, even him?

Perhaps I could have handled this better, my lady, but there was no time. The next attack will likely kill us both. Give me the gift of your trust.

He knew his thoughts were a book for her to read, though he could tell nothing yet from the angry swirl of her own.

“Will he suffer, Brian?” She pivoted. “Lie to me and I will rip your throat out.”

“Yes, my lady.” He swallowed again, glanced toward Jacob. “The pain is excruciating. But it's not long. After you drink from him, we may end his pain, but he will die within fifteen minutes of the serum's administration.”

She turned back to Jacob. “When did you learn all of this?”

“About half an hour ago, my lady.”

“And you…” She shifted her gaze to Mason. “You, who value your self-determination so much you're willing to leave our species rudderless to preserve it. You jumped in with both feet to take away mine. To block me from reading my own servant in order to trap me here.”

Mason did not flinch from her accusatory glance. “As I told you, my lady. I have very few friends.”

“I understand why much better now.”

Please do not blame them, my lady. You know this disease impairs judgment. Think. Why should both of us have to die if there is an option where one of us may live? It
is
possible, isn't it, that your judgment is impaired? Don't you want to do what needs to be done to get it back?

Jacob stepped in front of her. Tension emanated from the others at his back as he dared what no one else in the room did. Reaching out, he closed his hand on hers again, twining his fingers in hers. She kept her arm rigid at her side, but did not withdraw it. She was staring at his mouth, refusing to meet his eyes. He extended his other hand, caressed her chin with gentle pressure, asking her by that gesture to raise her gaze.

I used the best judgment I had, my lady. I don't think I was wrong.

He couldn't stand the dispassionate stare another moment longer, the wall of silence in her mind. Only his royal-blooded Mistress would divert precious energy at such a moment to convey her disdain. His temper broke.

“Damn it, woman, you wouldn't have listened. You would have just seen in my mind that it meant my death and refused. Does that make logical sense?” He grasped her upper arms, gave her a frustrated shake as her green eyes shot fire at him, her mouth compressed in a hard line. Energy was building around her, her body quivering with nerves or fury. “For centuries, you've believed that humans are here to serve your needs. Why in the hell would you be willing to die with me when I could willingly give you your life?”

Because I don't want to lose you.
The wall shattered, and he was flooded with emotions so strong they scalded his insides. She gripped the front of his shirt. As she pinned him with her gaze, she told him with her body language and her thoughts that this moment was just the two of them, consequences be damned. “Because I've lived all those centuries and never wanted anyone, anything, the way I want you. No matter what anyone in this room believes, including you, Jacob Green, that is real and true, not illusion.”

His stunned gaze couldn't move from her tortured expression, the love that was there as well as the sorrow. “My lady—”

“No. No.” She shook her head vehemently, stepping back from him but perversely keeping a grip on his shirt. He ran his hands up arms that had become ice cold, like her hands. “We're leaving. I want to go home.”

They wouldn't make it beyond this room, but Jacob was spared the effort of pointing that out. When she turned toward the double doors, Mason shifted, blocking them. “Don't make me do this, Lady Lyssa,” he exhorted her.

She moved faster than Jacob expected. He could barely follow her until she caught hold of Mason's lapels and tossed him out of her way. Yanked at the door. Just as fast, the vampire was back on her, holding her fast from behind. She shoved away from the door, trying to shake him off. Her struggles became something else, more violent and erratic.

Jacob fell to one knee again, grabbing at the edge of the table. “Mason,” he rasped, “ease your—”

“She's having another attack,” Debra cried out.

Fire roared through his blood. The head-splitting pain and nausea made him want to throw up his internal organs to get rid of it. Her shields had kept her pain from him for so long, but now he absorbed her every physical and emotional reaction such that it was hard to separate what belonged to whom.

Lyssa seized in Mason's arms, convulsing, her eyes rolling back. As she thrashed, dark, oblong marks appeared on the tender underside of her forearms. The smell of burned flesh filled the room. Council members gasped, shrank back.

“Do it, now,” Uthe ordered Brian.

Two Council vampires moved swiftly, yanking Jacob to his feet despite the fact he was doubled over and gasping for air. They lifted and slammed him down on the conference table, each holding one side of him. He cried out in agony despite himself.

“No.”

Unintelligible a blink before, Lyssa's voice rolled like thunder. The hoarse sound a demon emerging from Hell would make. Mason still held her fast, her feet barely grazing the floor. Her hair was snarled, blood running from a corner of her mouth where she'd apparently speared herself with a fang. She looked decidedly vicious.

“Let me go,” she hissed at Mason, her gaze red fire. “You've made your point. This is going to happen, my will be damned, so you let me go be beside him. Now.”

Mason cautiously complied, keeping between her and the door. Fast as a snake and just as venomous, she spun when he released her, raking his face with her nails, slicing deep enough to tear ribbons of flesh that caught on her nails and fluttered gruesomely there. He caught her wrist, his own gaze flaring with temper. Then he dropped his touch, apparently startled at the thinness of the skin under his hands. It started to peel back and blacken as soon as he let go, as if the abrasion had spurred the process in that area. Though her face was rigid with the pain of it, she didn't let it diminish the contempt on her face by so much as a flicker.