Vampire Mistress (15 page)

He did register a vibrating intensity around her. Part of it could be the transition she was experiencing, but it could be concentrated force of will, perhaps as formidable as a vampire-turning. She was maintaining a veneer, likely at a high cost to her emotional and physical energy. The question was, how long could she hold the line?

He saw Daegan recognize it as he did, but the vampire obviously realized that it was best to reward the impressive accomplishment without comment. For the moment. He took the love seat, which positioned him directly across from her. Gideon stood between the love seat and chair, which gave him the ability to study the profile of each. He wasn’t much for sitting.

“Tell me what I must expect, Daegan.” That velvet voice was even and smooth, like the purr of a late-night female DJ. As much as he loved her voice, the careful modulation he sensed was unsettling. It was as if he were watching a robotic or cardboard Anwyn, not the real thing.

The vampire met her gaze. “I can tell you how a transition normally works, but I expect this one may be a bit different. I will know more when I seek out your . . . the sire.”

A muscle twitched in her cheek, but she nodded. “So tell me how it normally works.”

“You’re already experiencing the transition cycles of adrenaline and lethargy, mixed with the occasional spurt of bloodlust or pain. As you progress over the next seventy-two hours, that cycle will get tighter and tighter. The bloodlust will happen more frequently. You’ll think it’s never going to end. When I get his blood, it should get easier. If it goes as it should, you’ll be able to learn control, anticipate the rise and fall of the cycles. Since you already have a good grasp of what control is all about, I expect you’ll handle yourself better than most.”

Daegan leaned forward, his hands clasped loosely between his spread knees, the duster pulling across his broad shoulders. While Anwyn didn’t move, a shimmer of reaction went over her skin, something close to a quiver. Gideon’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t move. She just gave the impression she wanted to move, badly. From the keen focus of Daegan’s eyes, Gideon expected the vamp could see it as well, but he didn’t back off. Instead, he stared into her shuttered gaze.

“This isn’t going to be easy, Anwyn. It’s going to be the hardest thing in your life you’ve ever faced, because you’re going to have to completely trust the two of us. You’re going to lose control of everything for a while. Your body, your mind. Those reactions are entirely chemical, beyond your ability to suppress them.”

“What happens if I don’t take his blood?”

“That’s not an issue.” His words took on an edge of steel Gideon could appreciate. “What I need you to focus on, Anwyn, is not giving up.” He reached out a hand.

She jerked her hands back before he made contact, an involuntary reaction that seemed to startle her, for she stared at her fingers as if they weren’t a part of her. Daegan extended his hand farther, turned it so his knuckles were on her knee, his palm faceup. “Put your hand in mine, Anwyn,” he said quietly.

Gideon’s attention sharpened. While the words weren’t unkind, there was a firm note underlying them that made it clear Daegan Rei expected to be obeyed. Anwyn closed her eyes, her hand balling into a fist. The veneer was cracking, and it was painful to watch. “No. I can’t. I don’t want to be touched.”

“Yes, you do. You’re just afraid of what’s going on inside of you, and you think if you put on the right clothes, the right makeup, and exert that iron will of yours, you’ll stop it from happening any other way than you want it to happen.” Daegan slid his hand up her knee, hooked the smallest finger of her clenched fist with his forefinger, tugged it loose and brought the rest of her hand into his clasp, leaving their joined hands resting high on her thigh.

Whatever their relationship, it was clear the vampire knew her to the core, and was refusing to let her withdraw from him. While Gideon would still be pleased to stake him, he couldn’t deny the unwelcome relief to have him here now, using his knowledge of her personality to help keep her safe with them.

“As beautiful as you look,
cher
, I’d suggest you change into something you won’t mind throwing away later. You’re going to vomit on it, shred it, bleed on it.” With his other hand, Daegan touched her face, drawing her eyes to him. “Perhaps one of my shirts would be most comfortable to start. But don’t be surprised that, as your temperature rises, you might resist having anything against your skin.”

Jacob had avoided being entirely naked for the bloodlust cycle, though he’d been down to loose boxers when all was said and done. Even those had been plastered to him from the sweat his body produced.

She nodded. Her jaw was going to crack in a moment, she was holding it so rigidly. Daegan caressed it with a light finger. “This next is going to be hard for me to say to you,
cher
. But hear me out.”

He shifted, glanced toward Gideon, then back at her pale, strained face. “Until we can get the sire’s blood into you, and see how it does, we are going to need to restrain you, to keep you from harming yourself or others.”

Her reaction to that was immediate and decisive. “No.” She shook her head. “I won’t. You’ll be here. You can stop me.”

“I have to go retrieve the blood you need,” he reminded her. “You wouldn’t want to hurt Gideon, would you? Or force him to put a stake through that beautiful breast of yours, right?”

Her lashes had swept down, but now they flicked back up, red swirling in the iris like a shark’s fin cutting the water. “Why don’t you just force me? That’s what you want anyway, what gets you hard.”

Wrapped in the nastiness of the accusation was a hissing note that didn’t belong to the face of the woman who said it. It gave Gideon a chill up his spine. A shudder went through her, and she was up and out of the chair, moving away from Daegan. “No. I’m not going to become this. I’m not.”

“Anwyn.” Gideon put a hand out as she passed him. “He knows—”

He’d forgotten how quick even a new vampire could react. One moment his fingertips were grazing her upper arm, the next he was airborne, those deceptively small hands having latched onto him, yanked him forward and thrown him so that he arced over the sofa like a high-wire athlete. In that split second, he knew he and the coffee table were going to collide. It was a solid oak, so it would cheerfully crack a couple of his ribs.

Instead, he rolled over a pair of very strong arms that changed his trajectory. He landed with a bounce on the love seat. The impact knocked it over and sent him tumbling unscathed to the carpet on the other side. He rolled to his feet in one complete move, instinct pushing him to a fast recovery.

Shock gripped her features. She stared at her hands, then her gaze snapped up. “Gideon. I’m so sorry.” She looked as if she wanted to go to him, but instead, an intense quiver went through her limbs. “Oh my God.”

Daegan took a step toward her, drawing her attention. “You walk around freely,
cher
, trying to pretend this is not going to happen, and it will not be one of us you will hurt. It will be Madelyn, or James, or one of the others. Until you have this under control, you’d tear into your alley cats like they were an afternoon dessert prepared by your chef.”

His words were ruthless, though he spoke in a moderate tone. When he stepped to her, put his hands on her arms, she flinched, but didn’t pull away. “You are a strong, intelligent woman, probably the smartest and strongest I know. If you truly want to take control, prove that nothing rules Anwyn Naime except Anwyn Naime. Until this has passed,
choose
to give us control, to protect you and others. Do that, and I swear to you, upon all that I am, all that I feel for you, that when you get through this, you will reclaim your life and take joy in it again.”

Gideon’s feelings were mixed as he saw her stare up into Daegan’s eyes. Whether she realized it or not, her fingers were clutched on his forearms now as he cradled her elbows. His reassurance was absolute, his authority filling the room like the warmth of a security blanket, a nothing’s-going-to-get-past-me-to-hurt-you blanket. Except something had.

Anwyn closed her eyes. Despite himself, Gideon drew even closer. Even telling himself he was the outsider didn’t keep him from putting his hand on her hair as Daegan continued to hold her arms. She opened her eyes, looked at Gideon. “I’m sorry.”

“As he said earlier, you don’t have to apologize for anything to us. And some little girly toss over a couch isn’t going to do much to my hard head.”

“Girly toss?” She summoned a weak smile. “You were headed straight for that table before Daegan caught you in his manly arms.” Before he could fashion a suitably gentle retort to that, she’d closed her eyes again. The broken sound of her voice was a wrenching contrast to her straight posture, the way her head remained high on her regal neck.

“I’m going to try very hard to let you do what you need to do, but this thing inside of me, and who I am . . . I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to let you do it without a fight. I want you to gag me, Daegan, so I won’t say terrible things to you both.”

“No,
cher
.” Daegan shook his head. “Whatever you need to say, we will bear it. I won’t deny you any more than I have to. And,” he added when she would have argued, “as I said, you will be throwing up. While you can no longer die from choking, it’s not very pleasant to strangle on your own vomit.”

“All right.” She looked toward the wall. “Then I guess the easiest thing is to start with one of your old shirts. Something you don’t mind losing. The playroom can be hosed down and”—she swallowed—“so can I, when you need to do it. Though I’d appreciate warm water and low pressure when it has to be done.”

The visual of hosing her down like a prison inmate was unacceptable to both of them. Daegan didn’t even have to say it, because Gideon did it first. “I think we can figure out a better way than that.”

“Go to my room,
cher
.” Daegan tilted her chin up to him, giving her cheek a quick stroke, though she vibrated under his grasp as if she held back a vicious beast on a chain. “Pick out whatever you would like to wear. You are the only thing in my life I would mind losing.”

“The only possession?” Before Daegan could reply to the painful, caustic comment, she’d wrenched away and disappeared down that corridor.

Gideon let out a breath. Emotions had gathered around her as swiftly as an impending nuclear meltdown. Daegan was right. This was going to suck. Maybe the vampire was prepared for it, but Gideon didn’t think he could be so damn evenhanded about it.

Then Daegan glanced at Gideon. “Go with her,” he murmured. “Stay at a careful distance, but I think you will be fine. I will be listening, just in case.”

“Why me?” He was more than happy to be the one to stay close to her, but it was the first time Daegan had relinquished that honor, and Gideon didn’t trust a vampire’s generosity.

“Because you submitted to her last night. In her mind, that makes you less of a threat. Less of a threat is less likely to trigger what is moving through her blood.”

“I didn’t submit to anyone. I chose to do everything I did with her. But I don’t think that’s the real problem here. You’ve wanted her to submit to you before and she never has. Now you’re in the perfect position to take that upper hand you’ve always wanted with her. And she knows it.”

Daegan’s gaze snapped to him. In those depths Gideon saw something that made him wish he already had a crossbow pointed at the vamp, no matter how fast he was. But the vampire did not move, merely gathered that eerie stillness around him that seemed to reflect a desire for violence or other extreme emotion.

“If you understood anything about true submission, Gideon Green, you would know that this is the furthest possible thing from that. You also would not be lying to yourself.” His voice softened further, the dangerous growl of a lion. “Your ignorance has saved you this time. Don’t speak of it again.”

Gideon had a few choice words on that score, but he held them. Surprisingly, Anwyn was back in the doorway. She’d chosen one of Daegan’s black T-shirts, the hem falling well past midthigh, the wider neck showing an expanse of delicate collarbone and slim neck. Jewelry was gone and even makeup. She must have been testing her vampire speed, for she’d been gone only minutes.

She didn’t speak, her face pale, her lips pressed hard together. She’d tightened the wrap on her hair, added pins so it gave her face an even more strained look. Gideon was moving toward her before he even thought about it. She was barefoot, and he remembered how the stilettos had put her within a few inches of his height, rather than letting him tower over her. While it should have felt awkward, dropping to one knee before her didn’t. He took her hand, looking up at her conflicted expression.

“I like this look better,” he said. Though he knew she might not appreciate his meaning, he hoped she did. It took guts to let vulnerability show as she faced her deepest fears. Even more guts than putting on the façade.

Her fingers tightened on his, and her lips curved, a humorless smile. Then her gaze shifted up to Daegan. “The dungeon?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly.

At his nod, she tightened her jaw. Sweeping her glance over them both, she moved away from them, toward that hallway. With a look toward Gideon, Daegan moved after her. It felt as though they were escorting a queen to the gallows.

11

T
HE chains in the wall were like those she’d used on him last night. They’d been bolted and run through a St. Andrew’s cross, which in turn was permanently embedded into the concrete wall. On top of that, the cross was inside a cell that could be securely locked. Gideon didn’t really want to think about what kind of person would want to be caged
and
bound. Or the men Anwyn had tormented in her private apartments. However, there was no denying the cell would come in handy now.

While they’d been waiting on her earlier, they’d moved in a small love seat and some bedding, a few of her books and a side table, so she could find comfort when needed. Daegan had adjusted the chains to give her free movement to these things, but shown Gideon where the controls on the outside of the cell could be used to draw up the slack. With the touch of a button, the manacled person would be yanked back to the cross, with no freedom of movement at all. Fortunately, there was a dial to control the rate of retraction, so it wouldn’t have to be so violent except in an emergency.

“Bring her back to this wall every time you enter her cell,” Daegan had said, “no matter how lucid she seems. She can change in a blink, and you will be dead. She’ll wrap the chains around your neck, break it, and then feed on you to her heart’s content. I’ll find a drained husk on the floor.”

Looking at Anwyn’s delicate limbs, the curve of her back and set of her shoulders, made Gideon feel even more averse to putting those heavy, ugly things on her than she was. And she was pretty much against the whole thing already.

She did well, though, until she actually saw where they intended to put her. Then her steps slowed. Daegan slid a hand under her elbow. “Let’s go,
cher
. It will be all right.”

She shook her head, but made it a couple more steps. Then all hell broke loose.

She tried to break free, a snarl of protest tearing from her throat. Daegan didn’t waste time on any preliminaries. He seized her about the waist and throat, holding her against his taller body as he carried her into the cell. Her knuckles hit the bars of the doorframe with what normally would have been a bone-breaking thud. Grabbing onto them, she tried to get her foot and ankle hooked as well. She was shrieking, kicking. What made it worse was there was no trace of red in her gaze. Anwyn, not her vampire self, was fighting them with everything she was, fighting like a wild, panicked animal at the threat of being bound and caged.

“No, Daegan, don’t. Stop it.” Her screaming protests were agonized.

“Gideon,” Daegan snapped. “Free her hands so I don’t break her fingers.”

Trying to silence his ears to her wails, Gideon grimly moved in, prying her fingers loose while she shouted terrible things at him. They were no better than the ones who’d fucked her in the alley. Held her down and bit her, gagging her with her own torn and blood-soaked underwear to keep her from crying for help. Men were all beasts who only wanted to hurt women, beasts who deserved Hell.

Since Daegan couldn’t see as well with her limbs thrashing before his line of sight, once he had her fingers free, Gideon put pressure on his back. Guiding the vampire, he turned him so her foot and ankle slid free of the bars as well and he could move into the cell without further encumbrance.

Though kicks and punches flew, they got her into the manacles. Anwyn wasn’t a trained fighter, but her bursts of vampire strength gave her the ability to hit with the force of a wildly swinging baseball bat. If he could have bruised, Daegan would likely show as many dark smudges as Gideon himself was going to have in short order.

He’d handle twice as many blows if he could block out the tears running down her face, her struggles. It was the things she said that weren’t anger that tore into his gut the worst.

“Please, don’t. Not again. Don’t hurt me. I can’t stand this . . . Please don’t do this to me . . .”

Then he heard Daegan’s warning shout, saw the lunge in the corner of his eye. Gideon wasn’t quick enough. She’d broken free of Daegan’s attempt to manacle her left hand and the right one wasn’t yet retracted. There was enough chain to let her leap forward and land on top of Gideon, knocking him face forward into the floor. Her fangs sank into the back of his neck, perilously close to his spine, her arms locked hard around his throat. Daegan wouldn’t be able to free her without breaking his neck.

Gideon’s skills as a fighter, and her lack of them, saved him. Reacting as he would to any vampire attack, Gideon flipped them. Yanking the knife out of his belt, he jammed it into the soft tissue beneath him as his vision blackened.

Her grip loosened and he rolled free. Daegan hit the control and the chains retracted into the wall, yanking her up and back, holding her fast. He seized her other wrist and, despite her cry of pain, forced it back into the other cuff and locked it down. He did both of her ankles as well.

In that brief blink of time, Gideon had made it to his feet. He whirled, rage taking over. Ten years’ worth of life-and-death struggles with vampires determined to kill him, torment him, mock his pain with their laughter, their fucking self-righteousness about their strength and superiority, obliterated his rational awareness of her plight. Sheer, harsh survival instinct took over.

“Vampire hunter.” Daegan’s voice was soft, but resonated with that unmistakable command that captured attention, no matter how resistant or reluctant.

Coming to himself, Gideon realized he was standing with the point of his fist pressed into the tender flesh of Anwyn’s breast, his thumb within a hairbreadth of the trigger that would send a wooden arrow spearing into her heart. He still held his knife in the other fist, and it was running with blood. Blood that matched what was leaking out of her side beneath her rib cage.

Her fangs embedded in his neck, her hot breath, had become the fangs and hot breath of so many others, their bloodlust trying to overpower him, take from him as they always took from him . . .

“Oh Christ.” He stumbled back, registered that Anwyn was breathing hard, his blood staining her mouth. The T-shirt had gotten raked up in the struggle, caught against the wall behind her, and she was naked beneath it. Her careful hair pinning had been destroyed so she looked like a feral creature, her breath throttled in her growling throat. Rolling her head back against the stone wall, she made a keening wail, a hiss mixed up in the sound. Her chest heaved with exertion. As he watched, though, the red in her eyes shifted back to blue-green, the ebbing of bloodlust.

He wished she could stay in the grips of the madness, because as her awareness returned, so, too, did her awareness of what had just happened. Her eyes filled with horror and fear of herself, her lips pressing together against the apology she already knew was useless. She seemed oblivious to the knife wound in her side, still leaking blood.

Daegan went to her, examining the stab point, and then knelt, placing his mouth on it. With methodical precision, he licked the edges, then across the tear in her flesh, aiding her slowly developing healing ability with the clotting agents in his tongue. His large hands rested on her waist, nearly meeting. Her trembling lips pressed together as if the sensation was unexpectedly soothing, and perhaps something more, but it didn’t dispel the anguish in her face

As for Gideon, he’d made it to the far corner of the cell. Putting his hands on his knees, he bent down to take a shuddering breath. When he saw Daegan’s feet approach at last, he would have knocked him away, but his gut was cramping so hard he couldn’t straighten.

“Don’t,” he said hoarsely as Daegan’s touch whispered over the open wound on his neck. “Don’t touch me.”

Surprisingly Daegan stepped back. Since he didn’t seem the type that took orders from anyone, it meant he was being considerate, giving Gideon space. That annoyed him more.

Still, Daegan’s irritating implacability, his close presence, was a clear command to Gideon to pull his shit together. Or maybe he was about to tell him to get the hell out, because he couldn’t be trusted. He’d fought vampires too long, too hard. In the end, he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between her and any of the others he’d killed.

Yes. He. Would.
With a vicious oath, he stripped off his jacket, unbuckled the harnesses, yanked out all the knives and guns, ignoring the fact he was showing Daegan every place he hid his weapons. Since that was stupid enough, thrusting them all at Daegan to divest him of any defenses against her, or him, was just more of the same idiocy. “Put them in the study, where they’re out of reach, goddamn it.”

“Gideon.” Anwyn’s soft voice was a stripe of fire through his mind. “Look at me.”

He wasn’t a coward, damn it. He straightened, determined he was not going to hurl his last meal, whatever and whenever that was. For one thing, he knew he’d be the one cleaning it up. Daegan was giving him that peculiar look, but he inclined his head, leaving the cell to take the weapons away. Gideon forced himself to look at Anwyn.

The blue-green eyes were vivid like a tropical sea again, his blood still on her lips. Her hair tumbled over her breasts, but he could see the firm, round shape of them against the T-shirt in her restrained position, the hint of the nipples. With the cotton hiked up, she was all long, creamy thighs and shaven sex. The wound was no longer bleeding, getting the same fused but not completely healed look of the other wounds. Despite that, chained, helpless, she was so . . . tempting, that savage sensuality swirling around her like an irresistible perfume.

He closed his eyes.
God, to even have such a thought right now.
Maybe she was right. Maybe one male wasn’t any better than another. But only some of them were evil enough to act on such vile ideas. He wasn’t one of them.

“Gideon. Come to me.”

“Not a good idea,
cher
.” Daegan had come back. While his gaze toward her was compassionate, his voice was firm. “Not while he’s bleeding. You won’t be able to stop yourself. And he obviously does not have any desire to be a donor. I will arrange for that when it is time.”

“I just want . . . I don’t want him blaming himself. He should defend himself, however he needs to do it.” Anwyn drew a deep breath, closing her eyes. For a long moment she stayed that way. Gideon could see her forcing her body to relax, muscle by resisting muscle, despite the quivers and jerks she couldn’t control. The frustrated whimpers that vibrated in her throat speared his gut. It took a while, though, and he forced himself to emulate Daegan, both remaining still so as not to distract her.

When at last she spoke, her voice was calm, oddly detached, as if the past few moments hadn’t occurred. “Funny. When you bind a submissive like this, the body decides its own movement. Writhing, arched. Begging for a Mistress’s attention, or a Master’s.”

She opened her eyes, looked toward Daegan. “But like this, unwilling, the mind is in control. So you have to make decisions. If your feet are free, do you cross them at the ankle, spread them out to relieve pressure on the lower back? Clasp the manacles with your fingers, or let them hang loose? I guess however’s comfortable, right?”

Tossing her head to get hair out of her eyes, she hit the back of her head on the stone with another wincing thud, though she didn’t seem to notice. Her lip curled. “And of course your face is going to itch, right?”

Damning Daegan’s warning, Gideon moved toward her. Even though the red was gone, he recognized that instantaneous flick of attention from her gaze. The predator was already growing in her blood, making her hypercognizant of any movement around her. So he approached slowly, easily, pushing down his unreasoning anger at her, his justified guilt at himself. Pushing away thought at all.

He readjusted the T-shirt, sliding it back down over her hips. As he did, his fingers made contact with the silk of her thighs. He wanted to linger there, but he didn’t. He pushed her hair carefully from her face. “If you want, I’ll braid it. That might hold up better.”

She licked her lips, discovered the blood was causing the itch there. She swallowed, made a visible effort not to keep licking at it. Unsure what was guiding him, and though Daegan made a warning noise, he took her chin, used his thumb to collect his blood off her lip, put it on her tongue. Anwyn watched him, her eyes so preternaturally focused. He could sense the combustible heat below the surface of her skin, the strength and violence churning like a whirlpool.

“You’re hungry and I’m giving you the blood,” he said softly. “There’s no reason to take. Willing submission, right? That’s what you crave. It’s so much sweeter than force.”

He heard Daegan’s indrawn whisper of breath, a reaction to his rash act, but Daegan himself had planted the seed, hadn’t he?
You will be less of a threat. You submitted to her . . .

He’d never willingly allowed anyone, even Jacob, to feed directly from him. The two vampires that had captured him had done it to taunt him, and he’d felt as though his blood was poisoned by their saliva. The desire to scour himself internally had persisted for days.

Yet this was different. She hadn’t volunteered for this. She needed him. Plus, he found he didn’t like the idea of Daegan providing her another donor. Maybe from a bag was okay, but for some reason he couldn’t bring himself to accept the idea of watching her feed off someone else. Vampires preferred their donors to be those who suited their sexual orientation, so a straight female vampire would prefer males.

It was ludicrous, since he’d known her for a couple days, and her vampire lover stood behind him. Nevertheless, he was getting possessive.
Yeah, I’m an idiot.

“I want to lick your neck. It’s bleeding, too.” Anwyn swallowed. She kept her eyes on Gideon’s, though, not shifting to the wound her flared nostrils detected so keenly.

“All right.” Putting his arm against the stone wall and sliding his other behind her back to steady himself, he bent one knee, pressing it to the outside of her hip so he could drop down a few inches, bring the shoulder within comfortable range of her mouth. Her bound arm stretched before him like a supplicant reaching toward Heaven, so he reached out to the end of it, linked his fingers with hers.