Beloved Vampire (48 page)

.
whore you paid for sex. You bastard.
“Never mind. We’ll see you in a few days.” Sweeping aside the privacy screen, she hesitated, then glanced back. “Thank you for tonight, both of you. And don’t worry about me. Really. Have a good time and enjoy one another.”

Then she disappeared in the crowd, leaving Enrique and Amara blinking at each other. Enrique sent Mason the message that Jessica was alone and headed toward the front entrance, but then he reached out and touched Amara’s face. “Did he hurt you?”

She shook her head. “I think his emotions aren’t under control right now. She might want to tread carefully.”

“Hmm. She doesn’t seem very calm herself.” However, as he eased her to her feet, and she turned from his expression, it darkened. Enrique knew a vampire could express his displeasure with a servant in a manner comparable to having a migraine explode abruptly in a marked human’s mind. Linked as closely to his wife as he was, it was clear Mason had come damn near to that.

My lord, that was
not
necessary.
When Enrique met silence, he gritted his teeth, feeling a rare surge of anger. Perhaps it was good they were spending a couple days in the city. However, Amara was right. Mason rarely acted in this manner. Reluctantly, Enrique wondered if it was best for Jessica if they changed their plans.

If I wished to harm her, I could, Enrique, with or without your presence.

Enrique directed his wife through the crowds, a hand at her back, the other clasping the fingers of her free hand.
Yes, my lord. But
it was my impression, as well as Jessica’s, that you are not Raithe.

A tiger does not stop being a tiger, Enrique, just because it knows how to sheathe his claws. Do not test me. Go and enjoy
your time in town with Amara. I will see you in three days. I’m sure Jessica will be rejoining you after we speak together.

036

When she’d stepped into the club, she’d been terrified, but determined to face her fear. She’d found ways to overcome it, fragile methods for certain, but she’d done it. The mask had been part of that, and it had been his suggestion. In fact, all the things that had helped her get through tonight had rested on the foundation of his presence. For the first time, she’d acknowledged she’d begun to trust him as her protector.

In her pre-Raithe life, she remembered how her safe world glorified the label of victim, such that day-to-day crises were blown into melodramas, all to display the V proudly on chests. Those people in their safe worlds had no idea what truly being a victim meant, or how fiercely those who were true victims despised the branding of that label upon their souls.

Overwhelmed by uncontrollable, stronger forces, she’d been helpless, no options except base survival instincts, beyond the in dulgences of morality or choice. She’d been hurt to the point she’d begged for death, been willing to do anything, suffer any humiliation, betray any part of herself—except her family—to simply make it stop hurting. Now that it might be in her past, she had no patience with being treated as if that part of her life was all she would ever be.

But as she pushed toward the club exit and the initial humiliation and stung feelings ebbed, she came to an astonishing realization.

Something had overwhelmed Mason, and rather than thinking of her first, of her fragility, he’d acted to protect his own vulnerability.

He’d considered her capable of pulling it back together, handling the aftermath of his mood swing herself. As angry as it had made her, it gave her a fierce sense of triumph—as well as renewed determination to get to the bottom of this, once and for all.

Jessica found the limo in the same place. The driver was leaning against it, smoking a cigarette, but she waved him away before he stirred himself to get the door. Circling to the opposite side, she yanked it open herself, ducking into the roomy interior. Mason was in the far corner, his face in shadows as he took a swallow from what appeared to be whiskey. One long leg was stretched out, the other bent, a tense hand on his knee.

She took the seat across from him. Since he seemed to be indulging one of his long, brooding silences, she took the time to sort out her own thoughts, not really sure now how to proceed. She’d intended to remove the mask, but she wasn’t sure how he’d laced together the ties. In a way, though, she wasn’t unhappy about that, for the mask did give her more courage.

Mason’s gaze remained on the glass. “You need to go join Amara and Enrique.”

“What if I prefer to go home?”

“While the Council has no plans to hunt your family, I wouldn’t advise that yet.”

Jessica bit her lip. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know what you meant.” He sighed. “Jessica, you know there’s a hundred reasons why staying with me is only a temporary waypost for you. It’s—”

“This isn’t about me.” She cut across him, ignoring his warning look. “This is about you. Why did you pull back from me, Mason?”

“That would be Lord Mason, or my lord. You of all people should be aware of vampire etiquette.”

“How about my Royal Pain in the Ass?” she suggested sweetly. “Or—”

She didn’t see him move, but in the next second he had her flat on her back on the seat, his hand gripping her throat, his body looming over hers. When his eyes flashed amber fire, the lip curled back, showing deadly fangs. The strength of his one hand was unshakable, and as he knelt over her, staring down at her with implacable eyes, waiting for her to come into line, she felt it close around her. The grip of the fear, always waiting, perhaps all the worse for being pushed back, like a wound that had closed over, only to have the scab pulled off fresh, a feeling that could be more painful than the initial strike.

But this time, she shoved it away with all her strength, the rage of a soul that refused to be bullied ever again.

I refuse to fear you.
She snarled it inside, a female tiger taking on the wrath of a male, though the flames in his eyes could immolate her. “Treat me like he did if you wish, my lord. But you will have to kill me. I will not scrape like some cringing slave.”

Her voice shook as she said it, but she reached up. He caught her by the wrist. She lifted the other hand. This time he didn’t stop her as she touched his face. Instead, he whipped his head to the side, a striking snake, and sank his fangs into her wrist.

She cried out, but curled her bound hand in his grip, her fingers overlapping his knuckles. When his gaze closed, his head bowed, though he kept a firm grip on her, drinking, replenishing his body. A warm swirl of emotion penetrated the cold grip of her fear.

You are trying to push me away, my lord, and it won’t work. You are not Raithe. You’re something even more dangerous.

But I want you anyway.
“And”—she drew his gaze, speaking aloud—“I understand now, what you all have meant about a true vampire-servant bond. Amara and Enrique . . . they never capitulate because you order it. They capitulate to you, submit to you, because that’s what they want.”

The flash that went through his gaze was so fast she could hardly follow all the emotions in it. Desire, yearning, desperation.

Rejection. She firmed her chin. “Don’t say it. Don’t say I don’t know what I want. The problem is I do, but what I want doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t make it wrong.”

No. It doesn’t. But my desire to take what you’re offering may be.

He retracted his fangs, suckling on her wrist. It was to close the wound with the coagulants in his saliva, but it still had her lower body taut, willing to rouse to him again. When he lifted off her and moved back to his seat, her gaze drifted down his body. He’d un-tucked the shirt, the mesh disguising the evidence of her climax against the front of his slacks. Her scent would be there, on the fabric tight over his still-unappeased cock.

She eased off the seat onto her knees, feeling the limo’s carpeted floor.

“Jessica, don’t.” It was a warning, but one she ignored as she moved toward him. As powerful as he was, he couldn’t control his reaction, the naked hunger in his expression as she made the short trip in the subservient position, placing her hands on his thighs as she put herself between them.

“You have given me pleasure, my lord. Let me return the gift.”

“If you think of him even once, of the unspeakable things he made you do like this, I won’t . . .”

“Shhh. This is you and me.” Fiercely, she willed her mind to believe that, as much as she wanted him to do so. Letting her hands glide up, she found the muscles beneath the translucent shirt. Impulsively, she leaned forward, mouthed the hard ridges of his abdomen, tongued him through the fabric as a shudder ran through him. While she did that, her hand found his belt, the fastening of the slacks, opened them, freed the hard shaft from his snug boxers. It pushed eagerly into her hands. Heat and power, the tip glistening in a way that demanded her mouth.

Mason dropped his head back on the seat, his body gravitating toward her, so that when she lifted the shirt and dipped her chin, it was easy to slide her mouth around the broad head, taste him for the second time, but in these circumstances, it was as incredible a sensation as if it were the first. He groaned, his hand gripping the back of the seat.

Touch me, my lord. Let me feel your need. Drive me down on you as you wish to do. Take control as you must.

She swallowed as his fingers convulsed in her hair. With one rough motion, he ripped the lacings free, pushed her head up and tore away the mask, making her gasp.

As he cradled her face, he stared down at her, his fingers on her mouth letting her know he didn’t want her to speak. It had been easier to look at him, to act this way, with the mask. Maybe he knew that; maybe not. Maybe he just wanted to see her face.

Thinking that eased something in her, giving a raw intimacy to this when so many things lay unresolved between them.

Then, thankfully, he directed her mouth back onto him. He was as impressive as she remembered, and stretching her mouth to take him, to work her way down the glistening length of him, stirred things between her legs anew. She wanted to feel him come in her throat, wanted to swallow his essence as he’d just swallowed hers.

She drew him deep, dragged upward again. It was something she’d been taught to do with consummate skill, but until this moment she’d never had any joy in her ability, never been glad for the punishments she’d suffered for not doing it well enough.

Jessica.
Even his thought was a feral growl.
I am your only Master. Suck me.

Her body shuddered at the demand, and she renewed her efforts. She remembered how he’d watched her, amber eyes burning as he commanded her to rub herself against him, bring herself to climax. And she’d loved it, felt no shame in the way he’d held her afterward, pleased with her. Until . . .

Deeper. Harder.
As he increased his possessive grip on her, she let the thoughts go for now and obeyed, eyes tearing. She relaxed her throat to take him, for he was moving her on him urgently, now that he controlled the rhythm. With this lesson on the contrast between indifferent brutality and rough passion, he was turning everything inside her to liquid heat. Her thighs dampened again, her sex contracting on its too empty channel as her movements rubbed her labia against her calf, where she was on her knees.

His hand spasmed on her head. He was close. Encouraging, pleading noises came from her throat. Noises of desire and arousal, her body leaning against his leg, surrounded by his heat and power, his gathering need.

I want to taste you, my lord. I will swallow every drop.

With a snarl, he climaxed, the heated organ clutched in her fist pumping the fluids in waves beneath the pressure of her fingers, shooting seed into the back of her throat. The thick, viscous fluid almost choked her because, like the size of his cock, it was more than expected. Still, she swallowed him down, allowing only enough to escape to lubricate him further for her closed fist, so she could keep pumping him, working him in her mouth. Teasing him with her lips, she nipped at the curve of the broad head.

When she’d drained the last from him, he didn’t give her time to put her temple against his knee, nuzzle his heavy testicles and semierect cock with her mouth and nose in languorous satisfaction as she might have wished. Instead, in those swift vampire movements a human was helpless to counter, he swept her up and put her on her back on the floor this time, his body stretched between her legs. His damp organ still had enough heat and hardness to press against her aching center, making her mewl and arch up against him. But he planted his hands on either side of her head, staring down at her with a harsh expression in his golden eyes.

All traces of honorable gentleman were gone, leaving the pure vampire, the one who would have what he wanted. She closed her eyes and tilted her head away, exposing her throat to him, a mute surrender of her body and blood, maybe even her heart and soul, for this precious moment.

He stilled. He stayed that way, his breath so close on her flesh, and God, she was trembling, wanting and afraid.
Please don’t turn
away from me. I need you so much, my lord.