“That means I cal it like I see it. She deserves nothing less from me.”
“Then you will do as you said. If you will not love me as you love her, you will stil lie with me, give me pleasure. And I will spare her Arrdol's attentions and release her.”
Their surroundings had once again become the meadow, soft colors, fragrant smel s, romantic atmosphere. The cloak was back on her body, veiling and revealing it at once. “No,” he said. “Not here.”
He studied her, the long fal of her blond hair, the mesmerizing eyes, the generous body beneath that shimmering cloth. Shifting forward, he moved into her until he was almost stepping on her toes. She tilted her head back, staring up into his face, a frozen ice princess. He thought princess instead of queen, because there was something younger, more inexperienced about her right now.
Lyssa had said he understood things intuitively, things that all owed him to get the measure of someone in a way others couldn't. And as Rhoswen stared up at him, he felt that click into place.
His Mistress had vulnerability, but she was a Mistress through and through. She let him take care of her, protect her, but there was a constant element of permission to it. It was why no physical or emotional circumstances had changed that relationship. She could be a mere human, and he the most powerful vampire or Fae, and he would be her servant. As her servant, he would do his level best to care for her however necessary, even if he had to override her will , but there were consequences to that, her will always part of the equation. In Rhoswen's face, in her words, in her actions, he sensed something different . . . conflicted.
He'd seen the question in his lady's mind as well , unable to determine what had driven Rhoswen in the chamber, if the Fae queen truly enjoyed the pleasure of restraining a man or if it was all about the politics, her warring feelings about Lyssa.
Now, with just the two of them here, despite all the other things roiling in his gut, he fol owed that intuition. Putting his hands on her shoulders, he dropped to her wrists, gripped them hard. When he pul ed them behind her, he clasped them at the smal of her back with one hand so he could jerk open the tie to the cloak, let it drop. Wrapping his hand in her hair, he made it tight, let her feel the pul . Her lips parted, a dangerous shimmer going through her. A tremble. Her eyes went opaque, and the emotional swirl that came from her was enough to send a cloud of disturbed butterflies surging up around her and fluttering away.
Son of a bitch. He stared down at her. Suddenly, it was as if she were ice in truth, the brittle, delicate kind that formed in the corners of windowpanes, or edged the slender branches of trees.
“If not here, then where?” Her voice was a whisper.
“Somewhere dark. A place of stone and steel.” A blink, and it was done. They were in an armory, surrounded by swords and crossbows, shields.
Jacob had nursed the hope of a fully equipped dungeon where he could strap her down to a St.
Andrew's cross and beat her within an inch of her life. However, since she had magical powers that could easily slip such bindings and malevolent vengeance, this would do.
Sweeping an array of helmets off a bench, he shoved her down on it, face forward. Her hair was a curtain around her body, but it parted like silk, showing him the pale buttocks, the pink sex. She was all cream. It was no wonder she drove Cayden to distraction. The Fae male exuded the dominant vibe as strong as any vampire master Jacob had met, no matter that he served as captain of the Queen's Guard. He'd probably endured the torment of it because he sensed this elusive trait in her, like a wolf on a hard-to-track but irresistible scent. Given Rhoswen's unpredictable nature, Jacob was sure he hadn't run her to ground yet.
He plucked a bridle off the wal , detached the reins. Pul ing her wrists up to the top edge of the table, he tied them and wound the straps around the hook there. It stretched her upper torso along the table, her hips at the edge.
“Spread your legs,” he ordered, his tone harsh.
“Show me your cunt.”
It was a weighted moment, but then she shifted, spread them farther. She was wet, heated. That shudder went through her again, punctuated by a tiny tremor. He remembered what Lyssa had said about Rhoswen's powers over the mind. She'd made time stop, so he expected it would be easy for her to wipe this from his memory afterward, keeping it all to herself. Was the queen figuring out how she wanted life to go, discarding the frames she didn't want, piecing together the history of her life, her kingdom?
No. There had to be a thread of reality she couldn't alter, and a limit to her magic. There were rules, as Keldwyn had said.
“Fuck me,” she demanded, her fingers twisting in the reins.
Jacob hefted a short sword and swung, the flat of the blade striking both buttocks with a smart slap that elicited a shocked yelp. She tossed her hair to the side, stared at him. He twirled the blade expertly over his wrist, cocked his brow. “Care to try that again?”
She could annihilate him with a blink. Instead, she moistened her lips. The blade had left a red stain over her white cheeks, and as he watched, more honey flowed from her pussy. “Please,” she whispered. Tears gathered in her eyes, a flash before she turned her head swiftly away, spoke to the table. “Do it, or I'l release the time frame. He'l fuck her like a common whore and make her love it so much she'l never get over hating herself afterward.”
He hit her again, and though he wanted to use the edge, he stayed with the flat, tossing it away with an oath. He was hard enough, because repulsed or not, his cock was going to respond to a restrained woman, wet from getting her fuckable ass spanked.
Male and simple, after all. But stil . . .
He'd taken women before, at vampire dinners. At Lyssa's command and direction. But this—a rival, one who was manipulating the stakes, and not even making all that clear what the ultimate stakes were— that was a different matter altogether.
The armory wal shimmered, and he had a window back into that upper chamber. Rhoswen had unfrozen the moment. Arrdol was stroking Lyssa's hair back from her shoulders, enjoying the weight and feel of it. She was alone there, bound to that frame as he'd been, while the Fae Lord bent to put his mouth on her flesh—her throat—goddamn it all.
As he did, he was pressing a cock that looked like a fucking basebal bat under his tight hose up against her ass.
“Freeze it, now.”
“Fuck me, now.”
“Lady, you are one fucked-up piece of work.” Fine.
Goddamn it twice over. With a strangled oath, Jacob put his hands on her reddened ass, squeezed the cheeks hard enough to convey his displeasure, and slammed into her. Not her pussy. He went for her ass, and shoved in hard, despite the lack of lubrication. She cried out and he leaned over her, gripping her hair and pul ing her head up so she could glare at him through those tears, though her breasts were heaving and the nipples tight from arousal.
“Bad girls get it up the ass, honey. You weren't specific about where you wanted to be fucked.
Gentleman's choice.”
“You're no . . . gentleman,” she retorted.
“I'm vampire scum, beneath your notice, remember? But not too beneath you to fuck, as my lady said. Now hold on for the ride, because I'm hoping like hell it's going to hurt. Freeze the damn thing.”
“Make me come first. I stop it when you make me come.” She flashed him a look of triumph.
Snarling every curse he knew, Jacob pul ed out of her, flipped her over and shoved back into her wet pussy, caring less about the usual hygienics. He hoped they had infections in the Fae world, and that he gave her one that made her itch like a dog infested by fleas. As he changed positions, he clamped a large hand around her slender throat.
That restraint hit the right note. To a powerful woman who craved submission, a col aring, even if it was just a male's ruthless hand, was sometimes enough to accelerate her toward climax. He began to stroke into her, smooth and relentless, his other hand going to work on her clit. He made sure she saw the way his gaze devoured the provocative wobble of those magnificent breasts as he pounded into her, again and again.
Dragging her to the edge of the table so her ass hung over empty space, he smacked it hard as he pumped into her. The punishment made her gasp, her pussy clench over him. She was resisting him, trying to draw it out, knowing every moment it took would torment him, but she didn't know her opponent. If there was one thing Jacob knew, it was the intricacies of a woman's body, and what would send her up and over like a cannon. He wanted to put her through the wal .
He concentrated on that goal completely, refusing to look back at that window and see what was happening. Every second he wasted on that, Lyssa would be at the mercy of Arrdol and those nightmarish memories.
Rhoswen's eyes were widening, lips parting. He saw the surprise and frustration that he was driving her up to that pinnacle so quickly. Each time he spanked her in tandem with the powerful thrusting, a moan broke from her throat. He should tel Cayden his queen might drive him less crazy if he dragged her into his armory several times a month for discipline. Maybe they were here because she'd fantasized about such a thing. She was doing it with Jacob, forcing him to it, because she couldn't offer it to Cayden will ingly.
A queen who never let down her guard could never be vulnerable. He knew the type all too well , though his lady had a straightforward honesty to her ruthlessness that seemed absent here.
A cry broke from Rhoswen's lips. Her fingers dug into the reins so hard he saw one of the nails break.
She didn't notice, milking him fiercely with the force of the climax. She managed to spare him a glance out of glazed, glittering blue eyes, but he showed her his teeth. Even if he had to cut off his own cock to stop it from happening, she wasn't getting his release. He gave her the ful measure of her own release though, thrusting into her just as powerful y through the ful arc of her orgasm. She couldn't hold on to control any longer. Her cry turned into a long scream.
The violent way she writhed and convulsed, it was as if she hadn't experienced a climax in a long, long time. The straps dug hard into her wrists, so her fingers started turning blue. With a mental curse at himself for caring, Jacob stretched above her and loosened them with a quick jerk, so she was stil restrained, but only because her fingers were tangled in the straps. As he maneuvered over her, he sank deeper, and he felt her mouth on his chest, teeth scraping and then biting down as the climax took her over yet another wave.