Her head dropped back on her shoulders as the climax rippled through her cunt. Jacob gritted his teeth, barely holding his resolve against the stroke of heaven-sent muscles around his cock. So slick and wet, such a fucking mindless friction. He knew she did it on purpose, making it as agonizing as possible, but he stil exulted in her cries, the way her hands dug in, holding on to him. That sinful mass of black shining hair teased his thighs as she dropped her head back, exposing her throat even further, irresistible to a vampire, or even a human servant, so aware of the deep meaning to it. But he left her throat for a different feast, mouthing her nipple through the T-shirt and ratcheting her climax up another notch, from a yearning cry to an outright scream that was echoed by a nearby dragon's roar, the lowing cal of a unicorn stal ion.
When she finished, he was breathing hard, shal ow. She had her arms clasped around his shoulders as she got her own breath back.
Wrapping his hands tightly in all that hair, he took her mouth in a long, urgent kiss. Making a sound of pleasure in his mouth, she squeezed down on him so he groaned, enduring the torture, fighting his own desires.
“Al mine,” she whispered again, catching her hands in his hair as well to hold his face steady, stare at him.
“Forever, my lady.”
The knock on the door disrupted them. The attendants, arriving with Lyssa's bath. Jacob remembered then that they also intended to “prepare him,” whatever godforsaken thing that meant. all he knew was he was fiercely glad he'd been able to give her this, have her to himself, before all of it happened. Lyssa gave him a knowing look as he set her off him gently, helping her straighten the T-shirt before he rose. Refastening his jeans with careful precision, he strode, somewhat awkwardly, to the door.
Oh, hell no. Standing outside the door were two large Fae males, tal er and broader than himself.
They had the pointed ears and aristocratic looks of Fae court members, but they wore nothing more than a pair of short half tunics and steel col ars emblazoned with the signet of the court. One had shining red hair, the other one jet-black. The jet-black one gave a half bow. “I am Patrick and this is Lorar.
We are attendants for the Lady Lyssa's bath. We also have clothes for her.”
Though he was tempted to snarl and close the door in their faces, Jacob stepped to the side so his lady could see them. As he did, the two shifted forward into her line of sight, revealing two even more brawny males behind them. One golden blond, one with platinum silver locks. They gave him a nod as well , though the platinum one's eyes were a little too appraising. “We are Arthmael and Cadr, here to make you ready for Queen Rhoswen's pleasure,” he said. “You will come with us to the preparation chamber.”
Jacob flashed his fangs. “I'm not leaving my lady unprotected.”
Arthmael raised a chal enging brow, displaying none of the guarded courtesy of the first two. “Think we can't make you do so, vampire?”
Jacob braced himself on the doorframe. “If your queen's preparations for me include leaving my bloody corpse on the floor in here, then let's get it over with.”
Patrick gave Arthmael a quel ing look that actual y seemed to have an effect, suggesting he had the higher rank of the two. Making a polite gesture toward Lyssa, he spoke to her. “We are Her Majesty's personal attendants. She does you a great honor, offering you our services. You have my word our only charge is to help you with your bath, not to harm you.” He glanced toward Arthmael and Cadr.
“These two are general attendants for the castle, appropriate in rank to handle your servant's preparation.”
Making it clear no honor was being done for him, and the guarantee of no harm wasn't on the table. It was the wrong tact. Lyssa's jade eyes cooled. “I believe you, Patrick,” she said. “However, since it sounds like my consort is not afforded the same protection, he will stay here. He was well trained on how to prepare himself to serve my needs. I think he can manage well enough for your queen.”
“But if you real y feel like you need to hold up my dick while I wash it, you might be strong enough to handle that.” Though Jacob slid an indifferent gaze over Arthmael, he did note the male's intimidating build. The guy could likely squash a dragon into a shoe box.
Patrick maintained a look of great patience on his well -sculpted face. “Madame, your consort is not being singled out. Queen Rhoswen is a creature of powerful high magic. Even when a Fae is chosen to share her bed, certain preparations must be made to protect that Fae, as well as to guide him to ensure her maximum pleasure. The chamber where they will take him is in a temple. Arthmael and Cadr are guardians and priests of that temple.” Apparently there weren't enough biker bars in the Fae world needing bouncers.
Lyssa gave him her usual mildly exasperated look, but then Patrick sealed the deal. “You can speak in the vampire's mind, and he in yours, correct?” At her nod, he gave her a half bow. “You will be able to maintain that communication throughout. You can witness his preparation through his mind. If he is your
servant in all ways, I think experiencing that will please you.”
It was already inevitable, but knowing the mind communication would stay intact pretty much cinched it. Jacob knew as well as his lady that the four servants provided another opportunity to gather information. He stil hated it. It went against every warrior instinct he had, as well as that unfortunate possessiveness she chided him about. But he'd learned early in the vampire world that there was no way to adjust every situation to suit his preferences.
We have to take some risks, Sir Vagabond. If it was not for the fact you are worried about my well-being, you'd go with them without argument.
Oh, I wouldn't say that, my lady.
He noted that Lorar carried her change of clothes in his arms, a deep green and gold robe with sparkling embroidery that would enhance her already overwhelming beauty. He didn't see any clothes in his attendants' arms, an ominous portent.
Removing Catriona's pendant, he placed it in his lady's hand for safekeeping, knowing she'd put it away in their smal bag of belongings. Then, before he turned himself over to the platinum and gold bouncer twins, he stepped toe-to-toe with Patrick.
“You do not cause her a moment of distress,” he ground out. “Not one, or I cut your fucking heart out.” The man had dark, dark eyes, with a frisson of silver in the sclera. He cocked his head, his lips curving with a trace of male malevolence. “Our only desire is to give her pleasure. Mindless pleasure,” he added courteously.
Great. He calmed himself with a vivid imagining of tearing their arms off, but made a bow to his lady.
Call me if you have need.
Leave your mind fully open, Sir Vagabond. Her gaze strayed over his two attendants, then back to his body. In her eyes, he saw remnants of the desire they'd enjoyed right before the group's arrival. I might like to look in on those preparations.
It was difficult to decide what irritated him more. Two muscle-bound Fae helping Lyssa with her bath, or the two helping him “prepare” himself. Despite their spirited exchange, once out of the room, Arthmael became far more businesslike.
“Queen Rhoswen is a creature of the water worlds, a being of ice,” he said, leading Jacob into the main bailey. They were headed toward a stone structure on the western corner, perhaps the temple. Cadr had fal en in behind them. “We must coat most of her lovers in a warming oil to ensure they can perform and that they do not suffer permanent damage by contact with her. As a vampire, you do not have the same physical makeup as a human male. She is intrigued by that and wishes to test the limits of it.”
“A queen who likes to test limits. Something new and different,” Jacob noted dryly.
I heard that, Jacob. He tuned in to find Lyssa was in the bathing chamber adjoining their room. She was watching, intrigued, as Lorar—on his knees before her—slid his hands under the hem of the T-shirt. As he rose, he brought it over her head. He guided her hair so it tumbled down her back, caressing her hips, her pale, heart-shaped ass.
Patrick took her hand, his other fingers brushing the smal of her back as he guided her toward the tub.
His reaction was like having a fire set to his internal organs. Jacob rocked to an abrupt halt, his feet planted against the unexpected violent reaction of his vampire blood. Pure, possessive fury. His fangs shot out, and his fingers dug into the stone wal . He had a glimpse of Arthmael and Cadr's startled expressions before he closed eyes he knew were turning crimson. Bloodlust, strong and pulsing.
The need to tear, rend flesh . . . she was his. In the vampire world, she might exercise her Mistress side on another male like this without actual y being that male's Mistress. There was a difference between the two, an important one. However, the things he'd known as a human servant, that he'd accepted, meant nothing to his stil young vampire blood, no matter the years of her accumulated power heaped on top of it. If anything, that made the moment even more dangerous.
Lyssa . . .
I am your queen, Jacob. Your Mistress. Her voice was sharp, urgent. Commanding. My heart is yours.
Remember that you serve me, and that all of this serves a purpose. You swore an oath to me, and I command you to control yourself, by virtue of my blood in your veins, my mark upon your back.
He fought his reaction. Jacob had the ability to shut down the avenue between their minds, and he'd have to do it if the only alternative was unleashing his homicidal cravings on those around him. But failing to stay alert and present in her mind, failing to be there to protect her if she needed him, was a far worse issue than bloodlust, and that thought helped him find balance.
Jacob took some deep breaths. It was not the first time she'd had attendants, male or female, for her bath. It was just the first time in a while that attendant had not been him. She gave herself over to their hands, not as an invitation to seduction, but with the expectation they would perform at her will , as they'd been commanded. Whether or not the Fae queen's instructions had included that scope, it was difficult for any male not to respond to that regal authority Lyssa projected. Lorar had asked her permission to remove her clothing, and now, Patrick also asked before they moved to the next phase of the bath.