Bound by the Vampire Queen

As her hands slid upward once more, her gaze locked with his, that chal enge and invitation at once as she reached her throat and col ared herself with her left hand, the other sweeping back down, planting a clear image in his mind of the times he'd knelt over her, holding her on her back like that. The vampire dominance had taken over as he col ared her throat with one hand, fingered her clit with the other until she came. She'd strain against his hold, letting him take her surrender, even as her green eyes glowed with a Mistress's sure knowledge that she could bring him to his knees, make him her slave whenever she chose. Whenever she ordered him.



“I think he's making that branch look like a twig, Maggie,” one of the males crowed. “Course, I think she's giving us all stout branches of our own. Perhaps we should take them out, let her have her pick?”



“You pul anything out of those trousers, Homer, I will whack it with that stick.” Somewhere during her performance, the musicians had started playing, an erotic woodwinds melody that picked up her movements. When Lyssa at last brought her dance to a conclusion right before him, the music faded away. Keeping her eyes on his, she reached down, picked up the branch in question.



A smile was on her lips, but the intensity in her eyes was what absorbed him as she laid the branch alongside his cock, let him feel the rough bark on his sensitive skin. Her fingertips brushed him, making the organ jump. He was wet at the slit.



“Almost,” she murmured. “Maybe a mouth would help. Hands behind your neck, my handsome servant. Eyes closed.”



He swal owed. “My lady, don't . . .”



Obey me.



He did, every muscle quivering in resistance as he heard the crowd respond with a sensual wave of approbation as her knees touched his insoles and her heated mouth closed over him. He steeled his resolve, tried to remember every reason not to come, the most important one being that she hadn't given him permission. He didn't like her on her knees before him like this, in front of them, and she knew it. Which was why she did it, to prove that she could do whatever she liked, if it gave her pleasure.



I may be on my knees, but you know how helpless you are to me right now, Jacob. It is not the position that proves power. You and I both understand that.



She suckled him hard, teased him beneath and he bit back an oath.



“He's going to lose it, darling. Best not push him too hard. Check the branch.”



She withdrew from him, and he felt the branch push against him again, fol owed by a chorus of cheers. Thank God, mission accomplished. She rose, sliding her bare body up his, letting that wet tip kiss her abdomen. Then there was a whirl of motion as the dance was in play again. Maggie tossed her dress back to her. However, they were not the only ones underdressed now. Many of the Fae shed tunics or corsets to press bare skin against soft, thin fabrics. Jacob managed to get his hose and boots back on, despite having to be fairly agile and tolerant of the female hands that inhibited him, as well as dealing with an enormous erection to fit back under snug hose.



He noted that Lyssa was treated far more respectful y, other women forming a circle around her until she'd replaced the dress and could take their hands to start the turning, winding line of dancing again. However, this time, as she and Jacob came back together, they were maneuvered to the boundary of the dance area. With a smile and a blown kiss from the Fae couple nearest them, they were pushed over that line.



Suddenly, they were alone in the forest again. Or not entirely. Jacob looked down and saw the circle they'd left. As the tiny figures continued to dance, several hands raised in affable farewel .



16



“I'LL be damned.”



Jacob looked up at his lady. She was breathing hard, and so was he, though he didn't need to breathe. Her eyes were alive, that deep jade color that told him she was wildly aroused. He was more than will ing to accommodate her, what with his tree branch erection and all.



“There'l be no living with that first chap,” he said casual y. “Now that he proved he could kiss his girl in a way that stops time for her and all the other lasses.”



“I think she was the one who kissed him. Do you wish you could stop time for those other lasses?”



“The only one I've ever wanted to stop time for was you, my lady.” Reaching out, he caught her fingertips.



She drew close enough to pluck the petals off his shoulder that had fal en there during the dancing. It was a distraction that all owed her to brush her body against him.



“You are a magnet for female trouble,” she informed him.



Jacob lifted his brow, raked her with a suggestive gaze. “Like you don't attract your fair share of overly zealous male attention.”



“Not so much here. Except for the likes of Arrdol.” She couldn't help the shudder, and his gaze darkened, his hand tightening on hers. “It bothers me that memory has such a hold on me,” she added. “A memory that is gone and done. It makes me angry that I froze like that. I should have done something.”



“I expect she had her chambers heavily enchanted to prevent you. It might not have stopped you, but it would have drained your strength considerably.”



“But I would have tried,” she said, and there was an edge to her voice. “That means something. I froze like a victim. And I will not ever be that.”



“No, you won't. You aren't.”



“Yet I seem to be fighting that feeling all too often these days.”



He squeezed her hands. “Over two years, you lost your husband and your former servant. Your husband betrayed you, violated you with his best friend.” He paused, wishing he didn't have to bring that one up, knowing that Arrdol had done that recently enough.



“The Council betrayed your loyalty, you were a fugitive in the mountains for months. You had a child and lost your vampire powers. You've only recently had any time to feel the impact of all that, my lady. You need time. That's all.”



She sighed. “Time is something we rarely have, Jacob.”



As they walked onward, the forest ended. They were in a clearing with a lush lagoon. Coming to the steep bank, they looked down on the water, where lotus blossoms floated across the mirrored expanse and the branch tips of will ow trees drifted in the current created by the breeze. They made him think of tree dryads, materializing enough to trail their fingers through the water to create ripples. Or dipping their hands in to pour the water along the smooth bark of their trunks, which would shimmer into sleek female bodies and back to trunks again.



The magic of the place was heavy in the air, but there was a potency to it that warned Jacob. He laid his hand on Lyssa's arm, instinctively shifting in front of her, watchful.



Then he heard that whisper of song, and knew the danger of the place was not to her. Damn it. Sirens again. However, that whisper didn't have the same pul on him as before, perhaps because it was the first time he wasn't weak from blood loss. But it had a different note to it. It was a sigh of true pleasure, not one intended to ensorcel a man's mind. At least, no more than any woman's sigh of pleasure could grip a man's attention.



Lyssa caught his arm, drawing him down to a seated position on the bank, their presence concealed by the foliage there. She nodded to the far end of the lagoon that the will ow trees had hidden from their view.



There were seven water nymphs, all long limbs and beautiful bodies in various shades of color . . . milky cream, chocolate brown, Dahlia's deep ebony, golden . . . they had lotus blossoms in their hair, twined around their limbs and throat, mixing with intricate silver tattoos that curved around their arms, their upper bodies, their hips. As he watched them, Jacob was sure his lady's gaze was as wide as his own. Not because of the nymphs, who were of course remarkable, but because of who was with them.



Angels. A good dozen of them. They looked like soldiers of some sort, because those that were stil clothed wore the same uniform. A red belted half kilt, the buckle scrol ed with what looked like a military designation. They'd been well armed, though their weaponry was currently laid aside. Knives, bows and arrows, long, gleaming swords. Even though the immortals Jacob had met—Fae and vampire— never suffered from soft bodies, these men were every inch warriors, a trained hardness to the muscles Jacob knew well. Some bore scars to underscore it.



The wing color varied as much as the sirens' smooth skin. White, ebony, brown like a hawk. One had an arbitrary scattering of crimson feathers among the white. Folded against their backs, the wings were like impressive cloaks, the tips crossing at their ankles, brushing the ground.



They didn't seem ensorcel ed by the sirens.



Instead, it was a mutual pleasure taking, a variety of intimate pairings and ménages. He saw one siren in between two of the angels, her hand gripping the battle kilt of the one behind her as he obviously rocked her on him, while the other entered her from the front, his wings spreading in impressive display to balance him, give their penetration a smooth, rol ing rhythm that had her moaning. Her head fel back on the shoulder of the one behind, her other hand fastened on the belted strap across the front angel's chest.



There was some wooing going on as well. Or perhaps that was merely the aftermath, before the angels and sirens in question began again. Lyssa gripped his hand. Since they were sitting in the grass, he pul ed her between his legs, cinching her up against his stil erect cock.



Would you have me take you like this, my lady, while you watch?



Yes. But I want to be in the water, among them.



He would have advised her to be more cautious, but for two reasons. One, it wasn't the first time he and his lady had dealt with angels. Intertwined with the heated sensuality was a familiar and undeniable . . . rightness, for lack of a better word.



While their previous exposure with the beings had been brief, then as now, he knew in his gut these males weren't a threat to his lady.



Pressing a kiss to her hand, he rose, guiding her down the bank to the farther end of the lagoon. When they reached the edge, she dropped the dress to the side, and cut into the water. Her purr of approval told him the water was a good temperature for her, which typical y meant it would be too hot for him. It was also shal ow, almost to her chin, which was good, since vampires had no buoyancy. When he fol owed her, he found whatever enchantment existed upon the water, it matched his temperature preference as well. She moved into his arms, melting easily into a heated kiss, a continuation of the desire ignited in the Fae circle. They turned together, a slower form of that Fae dance, sinking even further into that meeting of mouths, the meshing of bodies. He reflected such a kiss did in fact slow time.