Vampire Mistress (27 page)

Even Anwyn felt it, her hand clutching over his heart, her breath drawing in. Her thighs tightened on the outsides of his hips as if she could protect him, but he wouldn’t let her do that, no matter how much stronger physically she might be at this point. This was between him and one seriously pissed-off vampire. Which was pretty much how he’d always known it was going to end. He just had a bizarre, fleeting regret at not knowing what that second mark might have felt like, connecting him so closely to her. Feeling so close to anyone.

A blink, and Daegan wasn’t there. He was across the coffee table, standing in front of the wing-backed chair positioned there. With elegant and precise movements, he lowered himself into the chair, propped his ankle on the opposing knee and templed his fingers again, his eyes still fixed with deadly intent on Gideon’s face.

“This is as far as I go, vampire hunter. Now, let her get on with it, or change your mind.”

Damn
. The vamp did care about her, more than his ego or excessively dominant vampire nature. Either that, or he figured he’d rip Gideon’s head off when Anwyn was done with him.

Fair enough. With an infinitesimal nod of acknowledgment, Gideon turned his attention back to Anwyn. Unfortunately, he had a new problem there.

Anwyn slid off him, stood. She had no problem being cloaked in just her hair, but wished she wasn’t still marked with blood from her last seizure. However, it was because her flesh felt cold that she picked up the blanket and wrapped it around her body, staring between them. “This is wrong,” she said, even more sure of it now than she had been before. She could already feel the impact of that first mark inside of her. It was if there were a silken cord between her and Gideon. She could have closed her eyes and known exactly where he was in the room, without the use of any other senses.

When he’d pulled back from her, in that first instance she’d been so bereft, deprived of something that every cell in her had been screaming to have, she hadn’t even been able to rally herself to interfere in whatever was happening between Gideon and Daegan. Just as well. It was never a good idea to get into a testosterone match between two highly physical males, though the undercurrents of it had disturbed her greatly. Gideon was doing this to help her, to keep her safe. Not because he truly wanted to be a human servant.

He’d been clear about that, but it was the undercurrent that bothered her. Even during their first session, she’d sensed his nebulous yet overwhelming desire to serve a specific woman with all he had to offer. As such, it wasn’t going to be so easy for him to walk away from this, despite his soul-deep antipathy to being part of a vampire world. She knew what was expected of vampires and their servants, things she’d learned from Daegan’s stories. Gideon’s soul couldn’t survive that.

Whether Gideon thought it applied only in the Queen’s Chamber or not, she was his Mistress. She had a responsibility to protect him. She’d had submissives who couldn’t be trusted to use their safe words when they were physically or emotionally in jeopardy, because they got so deep into their needs and yearnings they couldn’t make that call anymore. That was why she had to be wholly focused, vigilant during a session. Gideon didn’t even know the concept of a safe word. He’d follow his gut to his death.

While she knew her own feelings were secondary to protecting him, she also knew there was that component as well. What if she did make him hers with this second mark? What if it tangled their souls and hearts together, such that she couldn’t let him go, or force him to do it, when it was time?

“We can’t do this,” she said. “We’ll figure out something else.”

Gideon rose, his brow creasing and his jaw getting that stubborn look. “I already said I’d do it.”

“Yes. You’re honorable. You’re trying to do the right thing. But I don’t want your sense of honor. Not for this. What if I become just like those you’ve killed, Gideon? If I’m second-marked, and you decide you have to hunt and kill me, it will be near impossible for you to do it with me in your head, anticipating your moves. Right?”

“It’s not going to come to that.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, he does.”

Both of them looked toward Daegan then, still in the chair. His onyx gaze went to Anwyn. “I need you to think like a Mistress,
cher.
Can you do that?”

“I am,” she responded, her jaw tight.

He made a neutral movement, shifted his glance to Gideon. “He will never hunt you. Never cause you harm. And not just because he would never get close enough to touch a hair on your head.” That ripple of cold menace again, telling her that whatever had transpired between them before was still simmering.

“It won’t happen because he’s never killed a female vampire, except in self-defense. He’s killed eleven vampires in the past eighteen months, an extraordinary count for a human hunter.” Daegan quirked a brow. “Every single one of them has been male. And their servants, when they had them, were also male. I might deduce you are anti-homosexual”—Daegan’s tone was faintly mocking—“but it’s not that. You can’t bring yourself to kill a female, except in cases where a female vampire, or a male with a female servant, has attacked you directly and there was no other choice. In those instances with a female servant, if there was a way to do so, you had her buried.”

Gideon’s jaw hardened in irritated response. “I’m glad you’re so well-informed. Anwyn told me the only things I need to know about you. That you have a really small dick and tend to fart in bed louder than you snore.”

“Since you’ve been in close proximity to it, I expect you know the size of my cock as well as she does. If yours was anywhere as formidable as your defensiveness, you might have half a chance of competing with it.”

Anwyn made a noise between her teeth, the precursor to a scream of frustration. Gideon bit back whatever he’d been about to say and Daegan inclined his head, a faint apology that was courteous enough to help her take a breath. “
Cher
, you are both taking a risk. His aversion to vampires is as strong as his fear of not being there when another woman needs him. Only time will tell which one will win out.”

“Have you turned any of that on yourself, Dr. Phil?” Gideon’s arms were akimbo, his eyes snapping sparks. “Commitment isn’t your big thing, either.”

“Stop it. Goddess, tripping over your own dicks, the both of you. And it’s a tie—you’re both fucked-up.
Men
.” Anwyn stomped away from them, turning at the limits of the room, the blanket twisting around her bare legs. “Damn it, damn it, damn it.”

“Anwyn—”

“No.” She shook her head at Gideon, as he moved a step toward her, regret in his gaze. “Don’t you understand, Gideon? I want to give you that second mark so badly. It’s the most important, most vital thing I’ve ever felt, worse than a drug craving. I’m all about control, denial, to heighten pleasure. This is boiling lava, an eruption I can’t stop. You can’t keep offering, because I won’t resist it.”

“You don’t have to.” When he took another step forward, she held up a quelling hand.

“Think, Gideon. For one quiet, damn minute, stand there and think about what it will mean, what can happen. Forget about me, and Daegan, and all of it. Just think, damn you.”

Gideon stared at her flushed cheeks. The anger was gone, leaving desperation. What she didn’t understand was, as strong as she felt that pull, he felt it, too. And he wasn’t a vampire, dealing with a transition or unexpected cravings.

“I have thought about it,” he said. “You’ll be in my head. I won’t be able to keep you out. Daegan’s already given you the vampire version of the locator mark. If he gives you more than that, he could probably get into my head, too, because he’s a lot stronger than you right now.”

He felt the weight of the vampire’s gaze. Ruefully, he reflected that the man already had too many avenues into his head as it was. “But for all that, we both know by the time you get to territories and vampire social gatherings, you’ll have another servant. Those things will be his problem, whoever the bastard is.”

Because she sure as hell wouldn’t choose a woman. She’d choose someone whose cock she could have at her command, rub against like she’d rubbed against his, those slow strokes, with her lips suckling at his throat. It would make his hands tighten on her hips, make him whisper her name against her hair, drifting over his lips.

He thrust that away. “But I meant what I said earlier. I’ll know when it’s time for me to go. Or you will. But that won’t happen until you don’t need me any longer. I promise. I need you to trust me, the way I’m going to trust you. Give me that. Okay? Let’s stop going over the same ground and do this.”

He took another several steps forward when he saw her gaze drift down to his throat, linger there with a hunger that tightened his groin anew.
Hell, I’ve made decisions based on my gut all my life, not taking time to think any of it through. Why should this be any different?

Wisely, he chose not to share that with her, though he expected if she’d been looking at his face, she’d have been intuitive enough to figure it out. But he did trust his gut. It told him to do what he did now. He closed the distance between them.

“I’m going to pick you up, all right?” His voice was thick, emotions closing in on him like a fog, making her his only focus. At last she gave him a nod, her gaze fastening on his. Her lips pressed together, her face getting that resolute look that told him she was making the decision to go forward, accepting the responsibility for it, even though fear lingered in her eyes. For him. For what it would mean to them both. He wouldn’t let her worry. He’d take the consequences of all of it.

Slowly, he closed his hands over hers, loosened her fingers so the blanket slipped off her shoulders like a queen’s cape, pooled around her ankles. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured. It didn’t matter that her flesh was bloodstained or her hair snarled. No man would see her as anything other than a goddess. He bent then, slid his arm under her back and knees, lifted her in his arms. She curled hers around his shoulders, and when her mouth brushed his throat, he shuddered, swallowing beneath the press of her lips.

He got her to the sofa before the rush of blood from his head to his cock could make him stumble, but it was a near thing, his body going back into overdrive as if resuming right where they’d left off. He kept her in his embrace, his arm crooked over her thighs, but she turned to straddle him again, pushing him back against the couch so she could run her fingers down his chest and abdomen, pull the shirt back up and mark him with her nails, leaving red streaks that arched him up into her touch. At the look in her eyes, the intensifying color, he dropped his head back, staring up at the ceiling, giving it all to her. He didn’t want to look for Daegan, see what he was doing. He wanted only this, the feel of her body on his, the slow press of her breasts to his chest as she leaned in, the heated touch of her breath against his throat.

Do it, sweetheart. Just do it. Whatever it will mean.

He closed his eyes as her fangs pressed into that same mark, bringing a rich pain. He heard a quiet male voice and then the pain was gone. Daegan had instructed her to do what all vampires could do. Erase pain with a release of pheromones, also secreted in their mouth. It would rush through the blood, take an already straining arousal to a bursting ache.

Here it came. He hadn’t needed that, wanted it, but his body was helpless not to respond. A low moan escaped his lips and his body went tight all along hers. He forced himself to stillness such that the energy quickly became explosive, building as she moved against him, not releasing him from the agonizing constriction of his jeans, cruel Mistress that she was, her hard nipples pressed against his chest. She caught both of his arms, pressed them to the couch cushions on either side of his hips, her small hands curved into the crook of his elbows to hold him there. His fingers dug into the pillows.

Then the power of that second-mark serum activated in his veins, grabbing control of his muscles in a different way, constricting them, making his body jerk against hers. Her mind moved forward into his, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. It was as if his brain were a murky, churning pool, and she was a mermaid in truth, plunging into those waters, an inexorable force that belonged there. Though he knew what a second mark was, irrational panic shot through him.

I’m here, Gideon. Don’t fight me. I know it’s instinct, but you don’t have to fight this.

She was talking, with a voice like velvet and feathers, equal parts unconscious seduction and soothing comfort. No, she wasn’t talking. She was talking in his head, clear as if she were talking outright. His awareness of her went beyond the proximity of her body or that tempting touch. She was inside him, around him.

His mind was wide-open, like a revolving door that couldn’t slow, bringing in and sending out information with no control, a wild buzzing. He could handle that, but there was something else, a sense of menace. It curled at the edges of his awareness. As she continued to press deeper into his mind, it took more form. Darkness and shadows, laughing shadows that weren’t funny. Their red eyes promised madness and pain, fear and loss of control beyond anything she’d ever endured before, that would be more than she could endure, so that she would lose everything, lose it all . . .