Her release went on for some time, and as he massaged her clit to the finish, he steeled himself to lift his gaze. Through that window, he saw Arrdol was gone. Lyssa was stil bound to the archway, but alone, staring out the window at the fire castle, the flames reflected in her green eyes, white face. He'd bitten her, the bastard, left teeth prints in her shoulder. Jacob stil couldn't reach her mind, couldn't tel her what was happening.
When Rhoswen let out a soft noise, signaling her repletion, Jacob would have pul ed out of her, stepped back, but she locked her legs around his hips. The reins were gone and now, with a swirl of mist, a disorienting sense that had him bracing his hands back over her on the table, he found himself somewhere else, his palms pressed into the ground of that meadow, his fingers spread on either side of Rhoswen's lovely face. She was on her back, Jacob on top of her but unable to move, as if she held the weighted net of an enchantment upon him. Every hard line of him was pressed into every soft curve of her, her mound pressed to his stiff, unrelieved cock.
Reaching up, she touched his face.
“I see why she keeps you,” she said softly.
“I sincerely doubt that.”
Her lips curved in a humorless smile. “A kiss, Jacob, and then your lady is safe, and all yours again. As much as she will ever be, since you are vampire and she is Fae, and your relationship is doomed.”
“I'm not taking you as the world's best expert on lasting relationships.”
“That is your last opportunity to treat me with insolence,” she promised. Cupping the back of his head, she pul ed him down to meet her mouth. Wet, heated, knowledgeable lips that parted his, her tongue sliding in to tease and seduce, keep him hard inside her. He felt dirty, wanted a shower more than anything except his lady. He'd never wanted to do permanent physical damage to a woman before, but this one might take him into that territory. Any one who harmed his lady, male or female, would get no mercy from him. Even so, Rhoswen's earlier tears bugged him, as well as his momentary carelessness that had led to the lack of circulation in her hands.
Fucking Sir Galahad. That's what Gideon had cal ed him.
Breathing a heavy sigh into her mouth, he settled onto his elbows and imagined it as his lady's mouth, that generous moist heat. Her hands stroking along his back, cupping his buttocks, keeping him inside her as he hardened anew so that he could satisfy her once again. Those jade eyes, so deep in color he'd get lost in them, knowing he'd do anything for her.
He wasn't too far gone in the fantasy, though.
When one of Rhoswen's hands began to travel down his chest, to his abdomen, he caught her wrist before she could touch the cross branded over his hip.
Opening his eyes, he stared into the queen's face.
“No,” he said. “That's not yours.”
The clamp of his hand on her wrist brought a trace of that earlier look, what he'd discovered about her that had taken them to the armory. But there was more, too. She was a Fae queen. She knew the power of sacred rites and symbols, and things you didn't mess with. When he let her go, she moved her touch back to his biceps.
“Kiss me again.”
That was easy enough, with his eyes closed.
Leaning in, he pressed against her soft mouth, inhaling the scent that was different from his lady . . . or not. It was the same . . . only now he wasn't kissing the Fae queen's cool lips.
His gaze sprang open. The setting had changed once again. Lifting his head, he stared down into Lyssa's face. They were in their guest chamber, just the two of them.
The queen who trusts no one . . .
He started up, but he took Lyssa with him, his arm banded around her waist. He was bal s-deep inside her wet cunt, and she trembled at the movement, framing his face with her deceptively smal , elegant hands. “God.” He put his forehead to hers. “Are you all right, my lady?” And of course at the same moment, he was unashamedly plundering her mind, making sure. She'd been deeply rattled, but she'd held, and Arrdol had only touched her throat, her back, leaving that mocking bite on her shoulder.
“I'l extract his teeth and you can wear them as a personal trophy,” Jacob promised.
Her lips twisted in a smal smile. “I prefer my emeralds and diamonds.” Studying his face, the smile, faint as it was, went away. “Where did you go?”
“To hell . That's what I cal any place you aren't. But I'm back with you now.”“I'm all right,” she said softly, registering the quiver in his muscles, the wildness in him.
“Good. I'm not.” Withdrawing from her, he laid her down on the covers, asking her to wait there with a gentle squeeze of her arm, though he kept hold of her fingers until they reached the extension of their arms. Moving into the bath chamber, he found soap, a ful cauldron of water and used both to scrub himself vigorously. To rinse, he poured the remaining contents of the cauldron over him, heedless of the floor. Tossing it aside, he came back to her dripping wet. Without preamble, he scooped her up off the bed, his arm around her back, palm on her buttock, and slid ful force into her, so decidedly it pushed her against the headboard. She gasped, caught his biceps and arched into him.
All yours, my lady. This cock is all yours. Every part of me is yours.
I know. Her gaze held his, and she stopped him in mid-thrust by digging her nails into him, a Mistress's command. Jacob, stop. Cease. Turn over.
He rol ed, letting her straddle him. Laying her hand on his heart, staying there for a ful measure of beats until he was steadier and more in need at once, she held his gaze as she slid her hand up, up, col aring his throat. Just as he had with Rhoswen, only this was his Mistress. Her touch there sent a surge of blood into his cock. As she felt it, her eyes darkened.
She began to rise and fal upon him, and he held stil at that unspoken command, letting her set the pace, taking the pleasure she wished from him. He was her slave, to do with as she wished, and he wanted to immerse himself in that. Now he was trembling even harder, his hands flexing on her hips.
I don't know what's a dream and what's real here.
“This is,” she responded. “We are.”
He reared up then, tore the black lace from her body, shredded and got rid of the hated thing entirely. The clothes, Lyssa's darkness against Rhoswen's light, had been the Fae queen's attempt to make her half sister look like a mere shadow of herself. In his mind, just the opposite was true.
Capturing her breasts in both hands, he suckled the nipples, until her cunt rippled on his cock and he sent her over. When she final y whispered a throaty,
“Come for me,” he gave her what he gave no other.
She could be nurturing, too, his lady. After their climax, she bade him lie stil , and placed her mouth on him, tenderly sucking and laving his nipples, her sweet tongue soothing the ache there. Then, despite his halfhearted murmur of protest, she made her way down his body, licking and nipping, light kisses, and put her mouth ful over him. As a vampire, he had a short recovery time, so he wasn't at all surprised to feel his cock rise in her mouth. But while she liked keeping him aroused and wanting her, that wasn't her intent this time. She was reasserting her claim, no different from any other primal creature, marking him with her mouth and touch. And it aroused him incredibly, watching her do it, knowing the purpose.
When she'd satisfied herself at last, she let out a smal sigh and then curled between his splayed thighs, her head on his lower abdomen, lips nearly grazing his throbbing cock. Her fingertips traced the cross she'd branded into his flesh.
They hadn't spoken of any of it. Not right now. To help her deal with what had happened with Arrdol, he'd given her the control and climax she needed, the comfort of his surrender. She'd given him all of this to help with Rhoswen. Though he felt it festering in her mind as it was in his.
“What is this Hunt we're supposed to attend?” She tilted her head up to look at him, her eyes lingering on the terrain between, showing how pleasing she found it. It made his cock harden further under the press of her body. The wanting of her never stopped.
“And I hope it never will . I couldn't bear it.” Her mouth quirked. “To handle the loss of your affections, I expect I'd have to kil you. Painful y and slowly.”
“There's the gentle queen I know and love. I'd expect and deserve nothing less,” he assured her.
She tilted her head to nuzzle his palm and bite, not so gently, winning a flicker from his eyes, a tightening of his hand in her hair, two predators in lazy love play. “So tel me about this Hunt, before I have to resort to torture.”
“Torture is a tempting weapon in your hands, my lady.” He gave a muffled curse as she scraped her nails across one stil tender nipple. But he didn't stop her, didn't close his hand on her wrist. “You keep this up, I'l never tel you anything, just coax you underneath me”—he unfurled a very graphic image in his mind—“spread your legs and . . .”
“The Hunt,” she declared, flexing her nails with ominous intent over the other nipple.
He relented with a tight smile. “Once a year, on Samhain, the Seelie court mounts up and rides through the mortal world at night. Since the Fae are descended from Danu, an earth goddess, their intention is to bless the crops and woods, to ensure a good harvest and fair hunting season to help people make it through the winter. It's an ancient, ancient tradition, my lady. The fact they stil do it is . . . reassuring. It's the entirety of the High Court, dressed in their finest, the steeds painted and draped in silks and bel s. Legend says if you see them that night, you shouldn't stare, because you could be struck blind, or pul ed back into the Fae world in their wake, forever lost to the mortal world.
Or, even worse, you could incite their anger if you don't offer the proper respect as they pass, since the Fae have capricious tempers.”
“I hadn't noticed,” she said.
“Hmm. Knowing you have half-Fae blood has explained a lot to me about your temperament, my lady.”
“If I didn't have an annoying and insolent Irishman for a servant, I would be sweet and fair-tempered every day.”