Where old women fed pigeons and business- men read their papers on their lunch hour. Things that had nothing to do with now, when the park belonged to things of the night, beings with dark intentions. He'd hoped Carl wouldn't see him coming, but the man's sur- vival instinct had kicked into high gear. As Jacob came out of the trees less than twenty feet from him, Ronin cursed, increased his stride. Panic made him jerky but adrenaline gave him a speed he'd probably never realized before. Jacob caught him anyway. Lyssa rose on one shaky arm in time to see her servant take Carl Ronin down, like a wolf single-mindedly pulling a stag to his knees by the scruff of the neck. He knocked Carl face-first into the turf, planted his knee into his back. Before Carl could speak more than one muffled plea into the grass, Jacob had jerked his head up with both hands. In one violent, powerful move he twisted it, cracking the spine, severing the connection to the brain. Just time for that one short, desperate cry. Less than a second of time, but one that seemed to echo through the park like it was a canyon. It was nothing Thomas could have done for her. Even if he had Jacob's strength or skills as a fighter, she wasn't sure he would have done it for her. Of the handful of servants she'd had throughout her life, she couldn't think of one that would have done this.
Rex would have, but it would have meant no more to him than picking up meat at the market. Where the life of the creature it had once been was neatly hidden away by precise cuts and cellophane packaging. Jacob rose to one knee, breathing hard, though she knew it wasn't physical exertion. Her head was pounding, making her too dizzy to read his thoughts, but she wondered if she would have had the cour- age to do so even if she could. He lifted Carl in a fireman's carry and brought him swift ly. His hands were shaking as he deposited the body next to her, easing him to the grass, cradling the back of his head. He closed the staring eyes. "My lady. You said you must drink within a few minutes of his death. So you must drink. It should help your pain as well. "
But what will help yours? She had no words for this moment. Not when he sat down on the grass and slid his thigh under the man's shoulder and head, holding Carl's neck at an easier angle for her to reach the important arteries. Lyssa lowered her head, fitted her fangs to the original bite mark and drew deep, filling her mouth with the warm, still vibrant blood. De- spite the agony rolling through her, she made herself do it, knowing Jacob was right. She made herself shut everything else out to do what she had to do. As he had done. I know you think our species is inferior . . . The words of Thomas's letter mocked her, made her want to spit out the blood and vomit into the grass. But she didn't. At length, she felt Jacob's sweat-dampened palm, the hand that had just taken a man's life, touch her head. Stroke once, then grip, grip hard as she continued to draw blood into her body. His hand followed the movement of her skull as she drank. Wet, warm drops splashed against her cheek, her temple, and she felt him shudder with his silent strangling sobs. It moved Carl's body in slight, dis- turbingly lifelike twitches. She didn't stop or look up, knowing Jacob wouldn't want her to do so. After tonight, he wouldn't want to speak of it again. There was nothing to be said. It was what she had to do to live, and he had helped her do it because he had sworn to serve her. She wouldn't forget it, while Jacob would always wish he could. As if he were a male vampire competing for her favor, he'd proven his strength and power to take down her kill. Brought it to her as a mate would. These were dangerous thoughts creeping into her mind, but this was her time, the dead of the night when she walked in full strength with fear of nothing. The crickets and frogs were silent. The smell of blood was in the air and a predator was close by. Her headache was gone as if it had never been, as if it had never knocked the strength from her so she could not finish the task she'd started. The nausea was gone as well. The vitality that came with an annual kill coursed hot and strong within her. Would it get her as far as she needed to go? It had to. Most importantly, it would get her through this moment. Her servant had no coherent thoughts right now. Just a hurricane of rage, grief, desperate energy.
A need to control something, bal- ance his world that was spinning out of control. Like the night with Melinda, but even more strongly. Primeval impulses rode close to the surface, and the rush of energy surging through her responded to them with a savage eagerness. When death and life joined hands and death prevailed, mortals had an irresistible need to do some- thing that defied it. Immortals in contrast would skirt as close as possible, absorbing its untouchable power. Rising to her feet, she straightened her dress, unpinned her hair and shook it down. Threading her hands through it, she let it fall away from her face, down her back, arching her throat so she knew it caught the moonlight. She knew its paleness and the rise of her breasts over the scooped neckline had drawn his gaze, even as his hands remained clutched on the man in his arms. "Jacob. " She met his haunted gaze. Reached out a hand. "Come to me, dearest. " She backed a step away, then another, moving even deeper into the shadows of the trees as he rose. As he stared at her, his eyes were a brilliant color, glittering with so much life and conflict she thought he might possess an electric force field capable of delivering voltage. His hands opened and closed, his body tense, his rational mind ar- guing with what his body and the darkest part of his soul knew they needed. Hungered for. Grounding. Connection. "Because you brought my kill to me as a mate would do, " she said soft ly, "tonight I offer you the rights of a mate. I submit to your de- sire. Your will. " He gave a harsh chuckle, ran a hand over his face. "You're a piece of work, " he said thickly. "I can't . . . I need to take care of him. " His eyes said something else entirely though, running with greedy de- sire over her body, conveying a consuming want that tingled over her skin like the electric brush of his mouth, the snap of his teeth. "We will. Together. I'm not dishonoring his sacrifice, Jacob. But I need you. I want you. Now. This very second. " "Do you, then?" His voice altered, became abruptly soft and deadly, so that she felt the sharpness of his attention like the prick of fangs in her vitals.
"You just said you owed me your submission. I'll make the demands. " She slid the straps of the dress off her shoulders and stood before him as it pooled around her ankles.
"Off. I want it all off. Even the jewels. " She complied, rolling one stocking off and then the other, peel- ing off the earbobs and necklace, dropping them on top of nylon carelessly, as if they didn't cost as much as they did. She knew that would inflame him further. Her hair fluttered over her shoulders, the tips of her breasts, tangling in her fingers. His breathing quickened, a laboring as if he'd been running. When she trembled, his gaze darkened. "Are you afraid of me, my lady?" He could overpower her with the force of his emotions where he couldn't with his strength. He could take her down and make her helpless to his mercy, though she knew he had no room for mercy in his current state of mind. "Yes, " she whispered. "Good, " he said, and closed the distance between them. The kiss was hot and brutal. His hands closed on her breasts with no intent to be gentle, though his violence was enough to arouse her. He squeezed, bringing pain with the spearing pleasure of it. Mine, the rough touch said. His fingers pinched her nipple, and when he bent her back over his arm and fastened his mouth over the other one, he bit hard, eliciting a gasp from her. He took her to the ground, dropping to one knee so he had her trapped between the one raised leg and the knee pressed to the grass. When she tried to rise and touch him, he seized her wrists and wrapped them in her stocking from elbow to wrists, knotting it be- tween her clenched fingers.