As Jacob had watched her conduct her macabre discussion with the driver, he'd noted there was an eerie stillness to her which became more pronounced as dawn approached. She didn't even shift when she spoke now, no facial expressions. As if the closer it came for her to take her rest, the less effort she put into maintaining human characteristics. Ironically it underscored the point she'd been trying to make about the difference in their status, from a vampire's perspective. An explanation echoing in his mind now.
But as he gazed at her, fighting his simmering irritation, something raw and painful surfaced in her expression, a sudden flash of anguish too powerful for her to contain. It was a stark contrast with the blankness of her features, like a slash of red paint against a white canvas. "I can't bear to lose another human servant," she said. "Do you understand that?"
Jacob blanketed her fingers with his own without hesitation then, his heart easing. "I know, my lady. But obedience is no guarantee. Thomas was far more obedient than I'll ever be, I'm sure. In the end, he defied your rules. He loved you enough to know when it was time not to obey anymore."
"So he's dead," she said flatly. "Exactly my point. He didn't need to be. Your life will depend on your absolute obedience to my will. Do you at least understand that?"
"I understand you think so." He sobered at her frustrated expression. "I told you I offer myself willingly, my lady. If you'll be patient with me, this isn't something I'm used to. Being told to—"
"Trust without question? When your mind and heart are shrieking at you to do something different from what I'm telling you to do?"
There was no arguing with the truth. He inclined his head, mouth tight. "I'm not intending disrespect, Lady Lyssa. In my own defense, you're not telling me everything going on here. Things I think Thomas didn't know about you."
"You want too much, too fast. Do you think I don't understand? This would be difficult for most people, but for a man like you it's almost impossible." She leaned in, breath touching his face as she spoke. "I've been alive long enough to see every form of foolish bravery and abject cowardice, Jacob. True submission is not only the most courageous act a person can commit to another, it's an act of faith. Of trust. After only a few hours together, you laid yourself on my bed and let me chain you. That intrigued me."
She softened somewhat, though she drew her hand away from his. "I make no apologies for anything I demand. I require the type of devotion most people think only God should be given." At his startled look, she allowed herself a tight smile. "God's definition of submission is far more merciful than mine. I want to keep you alive. God has less concern about which side of the Curtain his creations are on.
"Don't touch me," she said as he began to reach for her again. Jacob's jaw hardened, his eyes flashing, but he obeyed, surprising her. Tilting her head, Lyssa pursed her lips, blew a soft line of air down the column of his neck and watched the reaction shiver through him. "Try to offer me everything. Don't move until I give you permission."
She heard his breath catch in his throat as he apparently made a conscious effort to breathe deeply, relax. Slowly his fingers opened as his eyes closed and he gave up his other senses to the moment, stirring her.
Cradling his jaw still, she used her thumb now to ease his head to the right so she had a clear path to her goal. Dropping her other hand, she cupped him, her fingers curving under the round shape of his testicles, the heel of her hand pressing against his hardening cock.
She didn't have to do it this way, but she wanted to make him understand what power she could and would wield over him.
Exposing her fangs, she aligned them with the artery she wanted in his throat and applied pressure. Harder, harder, until she felt the skin give way and his body tighten with reaction to the pain. Warm blood, warm heat, flooded her mouth. Sustenance. She made a sound of pleasure, kneading him with her other hand. Releasing the aphrodisiac through her fangs, she ensured his pain would mix with something worth the discomfort.
Within seconds his fist was clenched on the counter, his cock leaping full and huge against her touch. He began to push helplessly against her as she locked her grip around his shoulders, holding him. Fifteen seconds later she heard his incredulous, guttural curse against her ear, felt his futile resistance and the vibration of his harsh groan as his seed spilled, dampening his jeans against her hand. The orgasm ripped through him like lightning. He was obviously struggling not to lift his hands as she'd commanded, but suddenly she wanted him to do so.
"Touch me," she whispered. The words were garbled with her fangs still in him, her tongue lapping at his skin, nourishing her with the flow of his blood. He heard her, though.
She'd expected him to grip her about the waist or hips, the clumsy gropings of a man in the throes of one dying climax, already starting to climb the hill to the second she would give him.
He did put his hands on her waist, fingers digging into her hips, but only to anchor her to him as he surged up from the stool and turned them. As she wrapped her legs around his waist, bringing her wet heat against damp denim, the robe fell down her bare legs, exposing her hips. He slammed her down on the wood counter of the island, his hands sliding to her thighs, pushing the robe even further out of his way to grasp flesh. She kept one arm around his shoulders, the other hand on the side of his neck, holding him as she drank, laving him with her tongue. Tearing away her panties, he got his hands between them to unfasten his jeans and shove them out of the way.
She could have stopped him, cut his legs right out from under him, literally or figuratively, but she wanted to feel him inside her as she drew in his blood and let it sustain her.
When she felt the tip of him rub over her clit, his minute hesitation at the moment of irrevocable decision, she clamped her thighs over his buttocks and drove him into her. She almost wished she wasn't so wet so his entry would have been rougher, for she wanted to feel every incremental push forward. However, despite his impressive size he sank deep and fast through her slickness.
It had been so long, he stretched her to the point of pain. She welcomed it, arching into his body.
His palms slapped down on either side of her head on the countertop to keep his balance. He didn't know he didn't need his balance. She had him. She wouldn't let him fall.