She wanted to be in the shower with him, letting him lift her up against the wet tile with his strength as if she weighed nothing. Sometimes she'd chosen an alpha male for her dinner for just that reason, that brief moment when his animal passion would take him over so that he'd lift her, slam her up against the wall of whatever dark place they might be. But now all she wanted was to imagine Jacob doing it, her legs wrapping around him so he could drive in, the tight, almost painful fit that felt so perfect, the exact blend of pleasure and pain to meet her desire for both. All of him inside her. She realized when the same thought reflected back into her that she'd again let him see into her mind, had opened herself so he knew how aroused she was. Are you where you can touch yourself, my lady? No. A pity. His thought was as ragged as she imagined his voice would be, and then she realized she could hear him so vibrantly because he was speaking, just as she'd requested. His hoarse voice echoed in the shower against the rush of the water. "I would have enjoyed feel- ing you come in my mind. Knowing you responded to me even as far away as you are.
That with . . . One . . . Soft . . . Whisper . . . I could compel you to . . . Come. Only by thinking . . . Of fucking you. " Come for me, Jacob. She said it desperately, before he could do it to her. He was close, and she was flushed at the shuddering feel of him, goading the pre-orgasmic state of her body. He'd waited for her command to climax. Did he do it because he knew it spurred her own response exponentially, to the point she almost didn't care if she brought herself to climax in this company? Or because it was his "dichotomous" nature to serve her like this, the perfect submissive, even as he drove her to distraction with his stubborn willfulness and aroused her past the point of good sense with his physical and emo- tional alpha tendencies? His hand curled into a fist high on the wall as he began to come, his lower body bucking hard, the way a man moved when not worried about exercising too much force on his more delicate partner.
He'd never held back much with her, knowing her strength, but she knew he did hold back some, always testing her lead to make sure it was not too much, waiting until she spurred him with fangs or nails. His head bowed down, a grunt of exertion coming from him as he pistoned into his hand. The milky fluid shot against the shower wall in front of him, ran down the tile. It felt as if it had jetted into her, her cunt convulsing sharply, once, twice, ready at the squeeze of her thighs to take it to completion. She wouldn't, couldn't . . . No, my lady. An urgent clip to his thoughts, even as he physically gasped for air. You can't. You are a screamer, you know. The sharp edge of regret was in the humorous thought that stead- ied her enough to pull her back from the dangerous ledge. When she surfaced from her erotic fog, he was leaning against the shower wall, breathing hard, his hand still holding himself. In her mind she rubbed her face against his knuckles there, smelled him. Shared that visual with him. Go out among the others now, Jacob. Think of me and know no shame. Your body is my possession and I want to show it off, let others feel envy at what I possess. Coveting is a sin, my lady. So was gluttony. But apparently she never got enough when it came to her young servant. It's the older woman, younger man thing. Midlife crisis. They've made movies about it . . . I'm going to find a cock harness and leash and make you wear them for the next three days, tugging you behind me like a poodle. She'd turned his mind back to the challenge of exposing himself to others but, as she'd hoped, he was feeling less anxious about it. When the muscles in her stomach loosened at the sound of his laugh- ter, she realized he'd managed to relax her, too. Perhaps he'd known she needed it as much as he had. Like the quick action to pull her back from embarrassing herself, it reminded her that no matter what, he never forgot his duty to her. Never forgot his duty . . . His honor . . . Loyalty. The thought disturbed her. An unexpected anxiety clutched her low in her stomach, dissipating the lingering desire.
When cold fi ngers walked across her spine, it tripped a physical wave of panic for Jacob's well-being. As she forced down the overwhelm- ing urge to get up, leave the table, go and fi nd him, protect him, a vision fi lled her mind. Taking over her senses, it blinded her to anything else as if she'd been picked up and dropped into another world. Blood and sacrifice. Jacob on a . . . Table . . . A cry of agony. An explosion . . . The premonition was gone so abruptly she started, earning a quick glance from Belizar. When she steeled her expression to im- passivity, he continued without pause. Inside, her thoughts scram- bled like an animal in a trap. She'd dreamed of her stepfather's death a week before it hap- pened. She'd dreamed she would lose her samurai guard . . . Two days before it occurred. She'd had one evening with her knight. Three days later, the news came to her that her nightmare of his death had been reality. While she hadn't dreamed of Rex's death, perhaps that was be- cause she'd killed him herself. She told herself Jacob was fine. Near her. Within range of her thoughts. Reaching out, she found him without alerting him to her presence. He was in a courtyard, moving toward the side of the cas- tle where the entertainments were taking place. Finely, beautifully naked, moving with lithe grace, his head up, every inch the servant of a vampire queen. He projected it so well that most of the vam- pires, while stopping for a second or third lingering look, didn't break the boundary of dignified reserve around him. God, he is a treasure. My treasure. Please let no harm come to him. He was fine. He was going to be fine. For Heaven's sake, when she died, he would die, so why should she be panicking over a vision of his death? The night he'd killed Carl Ronin, he'd slowed the car down by a church. He'd studied the smooth sculpture of the Son of God, mounted on a pedestal to the right of the front double doors.
The Virgin Mary had been on the left, her face wreathed in sorrow. "It doesn't have anything to do with holy water or being burned by crosses, does it?" he said quietly. "Why vampires don't go into churches. " "No, it doesn't. " She'd wanted to take his hand, suffering for him, but knew there was nothing she could say for this, no comfort she could offer. She wondered if there was any comfort for the fear she now nursed in her breast, that something might be conspiring to take Jacob away from her. It had to be the disease, playing games with her mind. For the first time, the idea of a recurrence was reassuring. Nevertheless, she kept a part of her mind open to his movements and whereabouts even as she tuned back in to the meeting. "Lady Lyssa, you indicated you had an important item for the Council's deliberation. You have the floor. " "My lords, my ladies. " Her voice was imperious and strong as she rose. From their attentive and respectful expressions she was satis- fied she hadn't cast any suspicions that she'd been dallying in areas far from this Council room. It was the disease, damn it. She shut the door firmly between her mind and Jacob's. "I want to address the issue of permanent asylum for the fugi- tives in my territory. "