The Vampire Queen's Servant (50 page)

He did eventually use his thumbs
with the cap, but that was all right with her. It was a dance style made for a
man, with the wide wheeling of the arms, the leaps in the same place, reminding
her of Gaelic warriors preparing for battle, dancing in firelight. Trying to
connect to something that would make them everything good men hoped they could
be.

She could have watched him do it
for hours, the man and his shadow dancing for one another, mesmerizing her with
the poignancy of it. When the piece came to an end, he did a spin to complete
it. The hat rolled down his arm to his fingers as he finished in a low bow and
then straightened, a little breathless, his lips curved.

As he came across the floor back
to her, his thumb cracked when he dropped the hat on the table. Grimacing, he
pulled on the lowest joint to dislocate and reset it again.

Lyssa bolted straight up on the
couch, her eyes widening. "That's how you do it." She pointed at his
hand accusingly. "That's how you get out of restraints."

He winced. "Busted. If it
makes you feel any better, old wives' tales say I'm supposed to suffer terrible
arthritis when I get older." He considered her. "Of course, that was
one of the major draws of the whole human servant gig, avoiding that."

"You…" She shook her
head at him. "I thought the attraction was spending an eternity exposed to
my charming and sweet disposition."

"That, too," he
agreed. She noticed he was studying her more closely. Dropping to one knee
beside her again, he reached out, cupped her face. "You're hungry, my
lady."

He was beginning to detect the
minute pallor changes of her skin that indicated she was ready for nourishment.
It had taken several months for Thomas to pick up on it, and while she knew
Thomas could have described it to him, somehow she knew he hadn't. Jacob was
just that attuned to her needs.

"May I offer you…
something? It's part of my job, isn't it?"

"Yes." She inclined
her head, which tucked her jaw into the curve of his hand.

"Would you prefer it in
wine, or…"

She could tell he was braced for
her to reject him since she'd gone back to her mode of establishing emotional
distance between them. An attempt that was beginning to seem like a pointless
exercise when something as simple as a dance could make her wonder why she
deprived herself of his company for any length of time.

She shook her head. "When
it comes to you, Jacob, I prefer the source."

Most of the time she'd taken her
blood in wine from Thomas. He'd simply prepared it for her, cutting his arm and
mixing his life source in the wine that diluted it and gave it a variety of
tastes, depending on what vintage she was in the mood to taste. With Jacob, she
suspected it would be a long, long time before she'd relinquish her right to
put her lips directly to his skin, feel his shudder as she pierced him. If she
had a long time, which she didn't. Which made it even more important to her.

"I'll take it directly from
my servant's throat," she said.

Nodding, he rose, his mind
projecting what he was about to do so he knew he didn't have to hesitate and
wait for a sign of approval. She was intrigued by the decision, in the way he
constantly surprised her with his impulsive, assertive actions when it came to
her. Of course the majority of her surprise had to do with her reaction, the
fact she liked his impulses enough not to forbid them.

When he slid his arms under her,
she linked hers around his neck. Turning, he took his seat on the couch with
her cradled in his lap, her arm naturally sliding along his back, the other
holding to his shoulder.

"I've noticed you like the
places that are the most life-threatening, my lady. The carotid artery, the
femoral. I think you don't want me to forget my life is yours for the taking."

An intuitive man
. She let the thought whisper through his mind like the hint of
danger. As if he sensed her hunger rising hard and fast to the surface, he
tightened his arm around her back, drawing her closer while the music continued
to play. His glance went pointedly to the remote next to his thigh.

There are some men who think
sex and watching cable TV at the same time is the closest thing to heaven on
earth.

Touch it and I shall remind
you immediately your life is mine for the taking.

I didn't say I was one of
them, my lady
. The warmth of his smile touched her
face as she closed her eyes, placed her mouth over him and bit, digging in as
she would for the anticipation of sweet fruit waiting behind a firm rind. She
knew he now understood she liked him to feel pain at the entry, that she'd been
glad he didn't want her to use her secretions to desensitize the experience.
She was stirred by how aroused he got without them, stoked by the stimulation
of their two energies.

He stroked her back with his one
hand, his other lying over her legs, palm resting on her hip. His arousal grew
beneath her, but from his mind she knew he also understood that when she fed it
might or might not lead to that. Sometimes the taking of what he was willing to
surrender to her was something of its own to savor. It had a deep intensity to
it she didn't want to mesh with sex, like not mixing two equally good foods
together so as not to dull the nuances of each.

Plus he was enjoying the simple
feeling of being in a state of wanting her, letting that yearning build but
holding it in check for her pleasure, for when she called for it. Which
ratcheted up her own desire. During the dinner, without prompting he'd startled
himself by calling her Mistress. Closing her eyes, she savored the sweet taste
of blood, the disturbing though exultant realization he was beginning to
understand what serving a Mistress truly meant.

He wasn't a natural sexual
submissive by a long shot, but by pledging his heart, mind and soul to serve
her, whether it be her pleasure or need for companionship, or as her protector,
he'd opened up the path in himself. He was learning what pleasured her soul
could create pleasure in his own, taking him places he'd never considered
arousing before. For her and her alone he would submit, and that made his
submission all the more potent.

Pressing her breasts against his
chest, she dug in her grip on his arm. His own hand fisted the fabric of her
skirt into a ball as he communicated back the same passion, his fingers flexing
in a rhythm with her nursing at his throat, her generous swallows of his blood.

At length, she drew back,
pressing and holding her lips on the wound as she'd done in the past, waiting
for the blood to clot from the agents in her mouth, enjoying the taste of him settling
on her tongue as she did so. He was still hard beneath her, and she rubbed
herself against him, a passing stroke. His head dropped back to the sofa as he
eyed her, his hand coming up to her face, threading his fingers into her hair.
"I want you," he said in a quiet voice. His thumb moved to her lips,
to the fang that was still somewhat elongated. Pressing so it punctured, he
gave her another taste. She took it into her mouth, suckling on his thumb as
his fingers fanned out over her lashes, her nose, her lips. Nuzzling against
his touch, she closed her eyes, taking the thumb deeper so his large hand
masked her face. As she let him draw his thumb out slowly, she flicked her
tongue against it, opened her eyes so she could watch the images rolling through
his mind reflect in his expression.

"Would you like your cock
in my mouth, Sir Vagabond?"

He swallowed. "I'm sure you
can read my mind, my lady. But I would never presume to—"

"Tell me." Her voice
was low. She knew her eyes were bright, harsh demand and desire projecting in
her voice, compelling him to respond in kind.

"Yes, my lady. I want my
cock in your mouth. I want to feel your lips, your teeth on me. I want you to
swallow my come. Hold you on me with my hands fisted in your hair, watching my
cock stretch your beautiful, perfect mouth. But there's something I want even
more than that."

He showed her in his mind, in
great detail, such that she trembled and moisture gathered between her legs,
feeling the images almost as if he were doing it.

"You've picked up on the
advantages of this form of communication far more quickly than Thomas."

"Well, my mind is far less
pure."

She tugged his hair so his head
obligingly dipped. "Thomas was a man as well as a monk. He had
thoughts."

"You enjoyed teasing
him."

"At times," she
admitted, no apology in her tone. In fact, Jacob noted there was laughter
there, one of the first times he'd heard her speak of the man without sadness.
He'd apparently found a memory that didn't overlap with the tragedy which had
taken him from her. As much as his body wanted to push them forward on the
roller coaster he'd just initiated, he forced himself to patience to get an
answer to the question that had been plaguing him. He suspected she might be in
a mood to answer.

"When Thomas became my
servant, I did require him to lie with me at least once," she confessed
what he asked in his mind. "I required proof of his loyalty, that his
devotion to me would supersede his oath to God."

"You tread in dangerous
waters, my lady. Even vampires answer to a higher power."

She nodded. "There are
those who believe the folk tales, that we're already damned. But I'm not one of
them. A vampire is part of creation, like a man, dog or mosquito, trees or
rivers, and our souls are as up for grabs as any. But men create religion, not
gods. I personally believe Divinity could care less if we indulge in carnal
knowledge of one another."

In fact, there was a spiritual
power to it so overwhelming, Lyssa thought the religions that used it as a form
of worship made more sense than those that called it a sin. "A man's
integrity, his morality, his sense of right and wrong and the choices they
compel him to make, that's his connection to God. While I have no problem
testing that connection for my own purposes, I respect it for the most part
when its strength is true. That's why I only asked for it once." Something
like humor danced through her gaze. "I do admit to the occasional
flirtation, a teasing and provocative image injected in his mind at the right
moment to distract him from a task." She sobered. "But with Thomas,
his faith was unbreakable. He never did anything to shame himself before his
God, no matter what he himself thought about it."

She considered the copper
strands of his hair tangled with her fingers, the beauty of Jacob's eyes. Those
firm, sensual lips.

"One thing I do understand
is the power of devotion and loyalty. While I might not believe whatever we
call God requires us to give up sex, since that was something Thomas did to
prove his loyalty to Him or Her, it demanded my respect. Any deity, or queen
for that matter," she allowed herself a small smile, "would
appreciate a servant who gives up a significant natural desire to prove his
love and dedication to her service. I might ask someone to choose between their
conscience and my desires, but as you have pointed out before, Sir Vagabond,
the choice remains in the realm of that person's soul. If the soul is strong
enough, I can't take the choice away unless I use a level of duress that damns
my own soul, not theirs. I'm not like some of my brethren."

At last, she gave him the answer
she knew he'd been seeking, and her eyes were intent on his, underscoring she
understood the significance of her answer. "If I ask you to make a choice,
there is a strong and urgent need for it. Not because I just enjoy taunting you
and breaking your soul into pieces, bit by bit. I swear it."

Jacob nodded, his hand finding
her other one and holding it, his fingers closing around hers. "Then I
will trust you, my lady, even if I don't always agree. Did he please you?"

She cocked her head, met his
gaze with an amused look. "He did. He was a gentle, thorough lover who
made me regret my decision to demand it of him only once."

"Really."

She laughed at him then. She
knew it couldn't be compared to the volatile couplings she'd had with Jacob.
They encompassed a whole spectrum of reactions and action. In their few
joinings, Jacob had been gentle, thorough. Also passionate, demanding.
Surprisingly inventive and intuitive, never forgetting or leaving her heart and
mind out of the equation when their two bodies came together. He was powerful
in the arts of charm and seduction for that reason, all the more so because he
used them for their mutual pleasure, never with a thought to manipulate. He brought
an adventurous innocence to it she also appreciated, learning all the dark
paths a body could take for sexual pleasure. He elicited unexpected responses
from her, like now when she heard the faint territorial note enter his voice.
He didn't like talking about other men that had been with her, even one like
Thomas.

"What about you, Jacob? You
are too at ease around a woman's body for me to think you don't remember fondly
one or two… dozen."

He chuckled. In one of those
unexpected moves, even as she knew his thoughts, he lifted her as easily as he
would a child, shifting her and guiding her legs so she sat astride him, her
legs curved and overlapped behind his hips, between his body and the couch. He
snugged her up to him with those large, capable palms on her hips and backside.
She drew in a little breath when he accurately put the pressure of his cock
against her clit, his fingers holding her buttocks, kneading. "You've
driven them all out of my mind, my lady. And before you try to make a liar out
of me…" She had the snippet of a thought as she dove in, trying to do just
that, before he put his hand on the back of her neck and brought his mouth to
hers to delve into her in a sense that was far more physical. It did, however,
accomplish the objective of driving anything else from her mind for the moment.