He closed his eyes then, an emotion passing over his expression so strong it closed her throat, made her almost unable to speak. But she did, even as she clutched him with her internal muscles in a way that brought his eyes back open. "Master, " she repeated. "Let me come for you. Serve you well, as you've served me. Always. " With a look that contained both fierce triumph and utter despair, he worked his thumb against her, began to thrust with his fingers. It hit her like a tidal wave rising undetected by radar directly offshore until too late, striking her hard in her midsection and spread- ing out from there. Tremors of earthquakes shimmered through her, intensified when he came inside her at the same time, thrusting up into her so roughly she was sure he tore her delicate opening, but she didn't care. She would heal physically in moments, while the rift in her defenses he'd created would remain that way forever. From here forward, she'd only have him to stand between that opening and the rest of the world. The conqueror and invader would serve as her defender and protector. As he always had.
Chapter Thirteen
They would travel to Miami to pick up their charter plane to get to the Council Gathering in South America. While they could have flown the entire distance, vampires hated to fly. He didn't know if it was the similarity to a large coffin, or the fact they were sepa- rated from the earth, but Jacob made arrangements for Mr. Ingram to drive them to southern Florida. They left during daylight hours, so the limo with its darkened rear windows had been pulled up to the door and Lyssa had ducked into it, using a cape to go from the house to the car. Bran had stood at the gate, watching them leave. He'd chased them down the drive but re- luctantly obeyed Lyssa's compulsion to stay as the gate closed. As they pulled out, she turned and watched the dog out the back window, laying her hand on the glass as if she were touching his furry face and the faces of the other siblings who came to join him. Jacob reached out and covered her other hand with his, squeezing with reassurance. In truth though, her sudden apprehension wor- ried him. We've prepared as much as we can, my lady. We're ready. It will be all right. She gave him that absent smile that told him he didn't know what the hell he was talking about, not having ever been to a Council Gathering.
He couldn't argue with her on that, of course. They'd be spending three days among over two hundred of the most powerful vampires in the world. Overlords and Region Masters most of them, though there were others, like Lord Brian, invited because of their status. The political positioning and volleys would be fierce. Among a host of other vital issues, she had to convince the Council to grant permanent residency status to her fugitives and get through the meeting without raising any suspicions about her health. With such somber thoughts on her shoulders, it didn't seem pos- sible to offer anything that could draw her mind away from it. So he rummaged in his knapsack and withdrew a small box. "Travel chess or 101 Games You Can Play on the Road?" You're incorrigible. But he did win another small smile. She of course slept during the full daylight hours, waking late afternoon. They kept the screen between driver and passengers open and conversed as any travelers would. With her dry wit, Lyssa even got Mr. Ingram to laugh about the tragic foibles of his son. They lis- tened to him talk proudly about how John had become his class's top speller and was making friends in the school he'd transferred to when he moved in with his grandfather. Ingram blamed Jacob for causing a business tax crisis in his house with Whiskers' propensity for shredding anything paper. Then he and Jacob exchanged ideas on home improvement when he mentioned he was building a work- shop at his small house. At dark Lyssa had them stop at a closed produce stand and take several oranges. She gave Jacob a hundred-dollar bill to leave tucked under the chicken wire with a note of thanks. When they passed a group of bikers that included a large woman riding behind her boyfriend in only a thong and a leather fringe jacket, Jacob reminded Lyssa she still hadn't allowed him to order her some appropriate biker wear. He won a narrow glance and a death threat that made him grin and Elijah laugh. Jacob reflected there was something quietly stirring about travel- ing on the highway with only the lights of other late-traveling mo- torists strobing across the paleness of her face, outlining the curves of her body and then plunging her into darkness again.
She didn't say much, seeming to prefer to listen to them talk. The men both picked up on that, occasionally soliciting a comment from her out of politeness, but knowing she would speak if she desired to do so. At length she curled up on the seat again, pillowing her head on Jacob's thigh. When she tucked her fingers beneath the column of it, he laid a hand naturally along her side, fingers on her hip. It had been two and a half weeks since her annual kill. Her strength and vitality seemed to have improved with no further episodes, but in the last week he'd noticed her doing this, not only sleeping during daylight hours but taking a one- or two-hour nap in the middle of her "day. " She'd explained she wanted to make sure she was as rested as possible for the grueling hours of the Council, but he knew the real reason. She was anticipating weak- ening again. Like a terminal patient who'd waited too long to seek treatment so that the treatment was not as effective, the annual kill and third mark were not likely to carry her as far as they would have if she'd acquired them six months ago instead of a handful of weeks. He should have listened to Thomas, come to her side sooner. Do not worry about what cannot be changed, Jacob. And the an- nual kill has helped a great deal. I am just conserving the energy it has given me. Never fear. The brutal images of that night still haunted him. The way Carl Ronin had struggled against his hold, his eyes white. When he real- ized he had no chance of escape, the fear of death was in his eyes. With his prescience, Jacob could feel every nuance and change in the man's emotions like a roar in his head. The desire to live was the strongest of man's emotions, a primal instinct that rose to the fore- front when it was challenged. It made Jacob wonder about the knight . . . Him, when he was the knight. Had the internal screams of men dying around him been louder than the outer din of an army in full-pitched battle? He was glad not to have that memory. He'd gone to church, lit a candle for Ronin, asked his forgiveness and then put it aside to take care of his lady. There'd been too many details he was handling on her behalf now, too many loose ends he was tying up for her.
She needed his focus, and she'd have it. Time was too short for anything else. As he raised his eyes to the mirror, he met Mr. Ingram's gaze and knew that the driver was as cognizant as he was of the significance of her nap. "You know, " Elijah said after a bit, "my mother died of cancer. Some people, you just can't figure it, because they don't de- serve that. They just don't deserve it. " That was nothing but the simple truth, though Jacob appreciated what it took for Mr. Ingram to say it. He knew the man still viewed Lyssa as something of a creature of darkness. He could hardly argue with that. The men maintained a companionable silence for the next hour, letting her nap undisturbed. When she woke, she fished about and found one of the oranges. As she began to peel it, she kept her bare feet tucked under Jacob's thigh, her gaze considering him beneath her lashes as if she was still drowsy. Elijah began a discussion with Jacob on which nailer was best for laying a hardwood floor. He answered, keeping his eyes on her, sensing the shift in her mood. Her fingers coaxed the skin from the flesh of the orange, her knuckles getting moist from the abundant juice of the homegrown fruit. Her hair was in a twist over one shoulder, the edge brushing the top of her thigh, outlined by the way her skirt lay upon it. Her toes curled, pressing into his thigh muscle. Moving his hand to her an- kle, he stroked the delicate bones there. When she raised a slice, she leaned forward, apparently wanting to feed him. As she caressed his lips, her fingers grew moist with his saliva as well as the juice of the fruit. He couldn't resist a nip that caught a finger. As he drew it deep in his mouth to suckle it, her eyes glowed like a cat's at him through the darkness. "So, Mr. Ingram, why does it make a difference what kind of nailer you use to put down hardwood floors?" She said it with a smile in her voice, but she had an entirely different expression as she extended the next slice of orange to Jacob. Take it from my fingers. I want to feel your mouth again. Did you know some vampires don't allow their servants to eat or drink except from their Master or Mistress's hand? Ever. To underscore their bond.