You invited me to have tea here with you, alone.”
“You set the terms for this meeting.”
“Yes. I offered to share my servant with you. If that was all you desired, we would have already been doing that. Instead, you invited me to tea, and you have a child's tea set, a dol that looks like me for some reason. I think you are not sure whether to hate me for who I am, or embrace me as the last remnant of what you have lost.”
Lyssa held her gaze as she slowly reached out, slid her knuckles in a measured gesture along the woman's cheek. The queen quivered. In her eyes, there was something alive and almost too big for the room. Lyssa touched her stil mouth with a thumb, a gentle caress.
“We are half sisters. Aren't we, Your Majesty?” It was equal y breathtaking and terrifying to watch his lady figure out the path into someone's soul.
Thinking of her lack of confidence earlier, Jacob wondered that she couldn't see her aptitude for it. If she died and went to hell , it would be not for her sins, but because the devil needed her skil in parsing souls.
If he went, it would be not only to fol ow her wherever she went, but because he was far past the point of sel ing his soul for some relief. Despite the serious nature of their conversation, or maybe because of it, he was about to howl like a wolf caged in a room ful of females in heat. It wasn't far from the truth.
Lyssa stepped back, not letting her touch linger, which was a good cal . The Fae queen now looked as remote as one of her ice statues, everything she was hidden behind that cold exterior.
“When I was young,” Lyssa said, “I was told that Fae didn't feel sorrow. How could they? They weren't mortal, they didn't experience the wax and wane of aging, the sorrows and joys that could happen in the same finite lifetime. But vampires aren't mortal, either, and I found out that sorrow and joy are part of every life, no matter how long.”
As she spoke, she moved across the room, glancing over her shoulder at Rhoswen. Reaching Jacob, she settled against him, rubbing her ass against his cock, pressing her shoulder blades to his chest and abdomen. His body reacted as if she'd impaled herself. He clenched his hands into fists, dropped his head enough to nuzzle at her ear. She let him tease her throat, but kept her eyes on Rhoswen. The queen watched them, motionless, expressionless.
“Earlier, I implied you don't know how it feels to love someone with your entire soul. You see it from a distance, like a treasure you want but that eludes you. It makes you angry, a child deprived of a shiny toy she real y wants, so she's cruel to others who have it. Or you take the toy away and destroy it.” She flicked her glance up at Jacob. “Or test its limits to the breaking point. But I think it's far more complicated than that, and far less trivial.”
“I love no one with my entire soul. I don't have that luxury.” When Rhoswen spoke, there was a hoarse, unsteady note to it, an uncontained wildness in her eyes.
Tread carefully, my lady. She's a rattlesnake, and the rattle is at full volume.
“I didn't think I had that luxury, either,” Lyssa responded. Shifting so she was half facing Jacob, but where Rhoswen could see what she was doing, she slid a hand over his side, tracing the muscles stretched so tight in his restrained position. Leaning in, she curled her tongue, a delicate torture
instrument, over the ice rod piercing his nipple. He made an animal noise of need. “But then I learned it wasn't a luxury at all. It was brutal, demanding that I tear myself open down to the soul and find out how strong I real y was.”
Her gaze met Jacob's. “When my life fel around me, and all was darkness, it was that which made me a strong queen. A better woman.”
She had her palm on his heart now, the heel of her hand resting on the ice rod, giving him an erotic tease as she gave him that gesture of intimacy. “In hindsight, I think I used being a queen as an excuse.
It was my fear that stopped me.”
Rhoswen moved forward, the slide of her thighs framing her sex, the movement of her body making the tattoo writhe in a sinuous pattern on her skin. In some places, he thought he saw the dragons, butterflies and other life forms in the design glimmer, shift to new positions. When she reached them, she faced Lyssa, Jacob between them. He sucked in a breath as she drew sharp nails down his side, deep enough to leave rivulets in the val ey between the ribs. They seeped smal drops of blood. “You are no longer considered a queen by the vampires, and you are an outcast, a lower Fae at my mercy.”
“I beg to differ, Your Majesty.” Jacob managed to speak, though with a thick throat, his hands and forearms flexing under the silver manacles. “She's more queen now than she ever was. She doesn't need smoke and mirrors to validate it. It's obvious to all. Especial y to you.”
Now who's pulling the rattlesnake's tail? Lyssa gave him the gentle reproof as he grunted, the result of the Fae queen closing her hand on his cock cruel y tight. He was pretty certain they'd wrench a scream for mercy from him soon.
Fluid leaked from the tip of his organ, dissipating the light coating of frost over the head with the heat of his seed. Rhoswen swiped it with a finger and brought it to her lips, touching it to her tongue. “You already know it is very unlikely you will leave my world alive, vampire. But I can make it a painful end or a fast one.”
“With respect, Your Majesty, my own lady has implied the same, many times.”
Unexpectedly, Rhoswen laughed, a brittle sound.
“I'm sure of that.” Her grip eased, and now her nails stroked along his length. She lifted a brow toward Lyssa. “I am feeling the effects of the lilania. How about you . . . sister?” Her voice was mocking, neither denying nor confirming the truth that hung in the air between them.
Lyssa flattened her palm on his chest. She fol owed the same track, down to where Rhoswen's hand was, until both their fingers curved over him, Rhoswen adjusting to cup his testicle sac while Lyssa took over stroking the shaft.
Everything about Jacob—the straining muscles displayed so well by his restrained body, the enormous cock, his ass clenched tight and back muscles rippling, those hungry eyes and tempting mouth—Lyssa knew all those features, yet the tea was making them even more vivid to her. She thought of the beetles in her garden, the way they moved so slowly over the surface of a leaf, exploring and biting. She wanted to do that to him, wanted to tease and taste. She was wet, her thighs soaked with her fluid already, and he could smel it, those nostrils flared. Even though he registered the Fae queen was aroused, an additional stimulant for his carnal nature, he was keyed in to her unique aroma, his mate's scent.
“I want that delectable backside.” Rhoswen's fingers trailed over his flesh. “You may have his front, and enjoy the special pleasure of a cock encased in ice magic. That also gives you the fang side of this beast. I have no desire to be bitten. When I was talking about the possibility of fucking him to death, it made him harder, did you notice? He's a twisted, dark creature.”
“You ladies make it difficult to care about self-preservation.” Jacob's voice was touched by his wry humor, mixed with courtier charm. However, it was also hoarse, his desperate need obvious, infused with heated lust. The vampire in him made that urgency a violent demand, though the servant in him was keeping it contained, barely.
When Lyssa stepped in front of him again, the battle between the two was clear in the way his hungry blue gaze coursed over her, his fangs stabbing over his bottom lip.
Touch me. I need to feel your hands. Their heat.
He of course knew the demand would earn him nothing but cruel denial. He expected it, even as Lyssa knew the demand was made in earnest. In the end, it wasn't about games at all, but brutal honesty and need. Giving him a look so unmoved by his plea it made him bare his fangs in a savage grin, she instead inched the dress up to her hips. When Rhoswen slid around to his back, Lyssa bent over, exposing her ass and wet pussy to him. The broad head of his cock brushed her buttock. He tried to stab into the wet folds he wanted, but of course he didn't have that range of movement.
She spread her legs, reached through them and back, high enough to clasp him as Rhoswen had.
She had to maneuver him to a downward angle, but as long and thick as he was right now, he was able to amply accommodate her. Closing her thighs over that icy coolness, she reveled in the unique feel of it, the coolness somehow meliorated by the furnace heat beneath, the pressure of seed boiling in his testicles, ready to spurt inside her. It made her shiver, remembering how that virility had put Kane inside of her, a rare vampire child, binding them in yet another forever way. She also felt vibration, shudders of reaction from the rest of his body translating to that steel bar between her legs. She played with him, taking her time, sliding herself over the broad head then several inches up his length.
Then back down. Jacob yanked against his bindings so hard the frame quivered. “Fuck . . . my lady.”
“Shhh,” she murmured. She turned her head to see what the Fae queen was doing. Rhoswen had moved behind Jacob, but the queen was standing a pace back, stil watching them. However, now that Lyssa's attention turned to her, Rhoswen withdrew the ice phal us from Jacob's rectum, earning a grunt from him, a tightening of his face against the searing feel of it. Discarding that into a basin on a table, she took what appeared to be a heavy crystal phal us from a side wardrobe.
Inside the facets of the object, spirals of lights played. She slid it into a harness made of sturdy cloth with a velvet overlay, a beautiful piece of embroidery that could have been the girdle of a medieval dress. Smal , jewel-like bel s were sewn into the design. As she tightened it on herself, they made a pleasant chiming noise. However, Lyssa's sharp eyes saw another embel ishment to the girdle.
Barbed prongs were worked into the fabric. As she pushed the phal us into Jacob, they would catch on his flesh, tear at it in tiny, savage bites. He would be goaded toward climax, but the pain would be the reins holding him back. At least in theory. She knew her servant well.
Lyssa rotated her hips on him, giving him a tempting view of her ass, and was fiercely delighted by the barrage of images that went through his head.