Vampire Mistress

Beneath all that, Anwyn was fighting a battle for her mind and soul, far beyond where a hero, or even he or Daegan, could come to her aid.



Fuck, fuck, fuck.Gideon kicked a spanking bench, hit the bars with his fists and cursed profusely. If she was going to be taken from him by a fit of mindless rage, he was going to use some of the time to vent.



Concrete dust plumed from the wall around her left manacle, snapping him out of the moment. Shit, the anchor was loosening. He snatched up more chain that Daegan had left, just in case, and ran into the cell.



She was thrashing and struggling, her mouth wide-open, fangs spearing her, creating a fountain of blood over her full bottom lip. Shaking out the chain, he looped it around her arm, wrapping it snug around the limb and the solid arm of the St. Andrew's cross, glad there was some space between the wall and the beam. He bound the arm from wrist to armpit before she could put more pressure behind the loosened bolt. He stayed clear of the thrashing head except when he got close to her shoulder. Then she nailed him.



Neither he nor Daegan had wanted to bind her head, since the arms, legs and torso were almost more than she could handle. But he had second thoughts about that when her fangs sank into his forearm, a snarl emitting from her throat. Fortunately, she couldn't get a good grip, his blood sending her into a renewed seizure. He jerked out of range as her eyes rolled back in her head. She let out a sound that he'd never imagined could pass human lips.



Gideon used another titanium carbonari clip to secure the chain and then did the other arm the same way, not wanting to take any chances. Now she wouldn't be able to leave the cross at all. When she surfaced from this seizure, she'd likely freak as a result. Pushing that out of his mind, he went for more refrigerated blood, wrapping a dish towel around his bleeding arm.



Jesus, where the hell is Daegan?They needed the sire's blood. This stuff wasn't doing the trick anymore.



Not only did she resist it more fiercely each time, but when he got some into her, she jerked like an animal in its death throes. The cries coming from her now, the wide, prickly fear in her eyes, beyond coherence, told him she was in excruciating pain when she was ingesting it.



“It's all right, baby. We're here. We're here. Hang in there. You can do this.” He dashed away shameful, unmanly tears at her keening, glad she wouldn't remember them. He could get through it; she would get through it.Never give yourself a choice, because if you gave yourself a choice . . . Well, she'd said it herself. You'd regret it all your life. Best to react and pretend there wereno choices.



He suspected there was more to that comment, something else in her past involving choices. Something that might haunt her even more than what happened in the alley. Another mystery to his beautiful Mistress.



It seemed to go on forever, but in hindsight, he suspected it was little longer than any of the previous ones, just more virulent. When she fell into lethargy again, hanging semiconscious in the chains, he collapsed onto the sofa, putting the blood container on the floor and his head in his hands, giving himself a second to regroup.



Vaguely, he realized he hadn't eaten or drunk anything. While nothing appealed to him, he guessed he should think about forcing something down, if he didn't want to pass out on her. And hell, she wasn't going to be finishing the food she had in her refrigerator. Jesus, even his hair hurt.



The music was still playing. It was good music. He gave a rueful snort at the thought, but noticed that she was registering it again as well, her weary head moving in a sway to the gentle beat of the woodwinds, mumbling as if she was humming along. It made it sound like a lullaby.



In between those tranquil notes, though, she murmured to herself, things he couldn't understand and probably didn't want to. As he cleaned her and the floor once more, he blessed the foresight that had put a drain in the stone floor, though he was sure he didn't want to think about all the uses for that in a BDSM dungeon. He tucked the last clean towel around her, wondering about his options after she destroyed that one. There had to be a washer or dryer down here, right? He'd just find one, or he'd cut Daegan's sheets into quarters. He was a vampire, after all. He could sleep hanging from the rafters.



When he snorted at that bit of vampire lore, she stirred. He was sitting on a chair in front of her again and put a hand on her leg, right below the hem of the towel. It was a calming signal he'd fallen into using when she surfaced, letting her know he was there still. Particularly since this time something had changed for the worse, her restraints considerably increased.



She focused on him from a far-distant place, but her gaze remained so intent on him it was as though she was trying not to notice or think of anything else. But then she winced.



“My tongue hurts.”



“Yeah, you bit it pretty bad that time. I thought about getting one of the ball gags, but I didn't want to upset you more.”



He saw a dark well of panic open in her eyes before she slammed a cover on it. Pretending he'd seen nothing amiss, he tugged the towel gently. “I wouldn't do it without your okay. You know that. It's already looking better. I think your refrigerated blood helped some, being directly on your tongue like that. Anwyn . . . I had to add the chains. You were pulling the one side loose.” She nodded after a moment, a more subdued response than he expected. Then he took a closer look.



Though he'd never seen anyone who looked more exhausted than she did right now, in addition to that intent gaze that could bore holes into him, her pulse was rabbiting up and down. As if she was managing a silent panic attack. Her phobia about the restraints was getting worse, not better, and he'd had to increase them.Goddamn it . Her urgent request for music now made more sense.



“How can I make it easier, Anwyn? Tell me. Anything, short of taking the manacles off, I'll do.” Instead, her attention had latched onto his arm. “I hurt you.” The bleeding had stopped so he pulled the cloth away, showing her the two puncture wounds. “No worse than a shot,” he lied. “Don't worry about it.”



As if she forgot she couldn't touch him, she strained with her fingers, and Gideon met them, pressing pads to pads, tenting their fingers between them. “Take a break,” she said softly instead. “I'm not going anywhere and you look like shit.”



He blinked. “Once you get off that cross, you can try giving me orders. You don't know me if you think I'll let you deal with a minute of this alone. How about we go back to our car games? I'm thinking charades. Granted, I'll have the advantage, but you're not the kind of woman who whines about things being unfair.”



Instead of laughing, something crumpled in her expression. He was out of the chair in an instant, bringing his much larger body close, cloaking her so she could only feel him, see the spread of his palms on either side of her face and not the chains. “I'm here, Anwyn. Hang in there. I'm not going anywhere. I'm okay.”



“I know. It's so irrational.”



“No, not irrational at all. I don't get all that thrilled about being tied up, either. In fact, you remember you had to use a gag to shut me up. More than one vamp has threatened to cut out my tongue. Actually, I think my brother threatened once or twice as well. My third grade teacher—”



She pressed her forehead to the bridge of his nose and he slid his lips along her cheek. “A problem, even in third grade? You needed more spankings.” The corner of her mouth quirked as he raised his head. “Or maybe that's what you were angling for.”



“Not my thing. I'm not the ‘I've been a bad, bad boy and why doesn't Mommy spank me' kind of guy.”



“No, you're not. But you are the bad boy, Gideon. The kind that most every woman wants to experience. One that sweeps a woman off her feet.” She laid her forehead on his shoulder again, breathing deep.



He stroked the back of her skull, followed the silky curves of her braided hair. “I don't know about that.



But is that what you're looking for?”



“I'mnot that kind of girl.” Tilting her face into his right hand, she let it rest there, her eyes half-closed again. Her voice dropped to that alluring murmur, a whisper of breath on the syllables. “I'm the one who wants to take the bad boy and teach him how to be really bad, all at my command. I want to take away the pain that makes him so bad, give him a clean kind of pain, make him lose his mind so all he wants is to give his soul to me.”



“Just so you aren't asking for a lot.” Gideon's throat had thickened and she heard it, because her eyes opened, gazing at him with a speculative glint.



“Maybe you're not the put-me-over-Mommy's-knee type,” she mused. “But you respond well to pain, administered the right way. The bite of my nails, the cut of a switch. Rawhide kissing your testicles with the right amount of sting so that you'd learn to say, ‘Yes, Mistress,' when you kneel in front of me.



Maybe we'll get the chance to see that happen.”



The blue-green intensity of her gaze had ratcheted up enough that it was as if she had no chains on her at all, her focus all on him, his heat, his touch, his body. All hers. Gideon felt it as if she'd actually locked a collar around him with her words, her forthright stare that seemed to see nothing but him. For a brief, pleasurable moment, she'd found an avenue back to herself. As long as their gazes stayed locked, unblinking, she seemed able to stay in that spot. As for himself, he wasn't sure if he could have looked away if he'd wanted to do so.



“What else would you like to see happen . . . Mistress?” He told himself he was just keeping her going, distracting her, dispelling that panic attack. But it was doing something no less unsettling to him.



“I'd like to put your cock in a harness, watch it stay hard for me for hours, gag you with a metal bit when you mouthed off to me, as you'd be tempted to do. See you bend and kiss my foot for forgiveness, your beautiful bare ass rising high to the caress of my hand, knees spread wide so I could close my hand over your balls, squeeze them hard. You'd give me that, Gideon, because of what I could give you in return. Everything.”