Vampire Mistress (21 page)

“How can I make it easier, Anwyn? Tell me. Anything, short of taking the manacles off, I’ll do.”

Instead, her attention had latched onto his arm. “I hurt you.”

The bleeding had stopped so he pulled the cloth away, showing her the two puncture wounds. “No worse than a shot,” he lied. “Don’t worry about it.”

As if she forgot she couldn’t touch him, she strained with her fingers, and Gideon met them, pressing pads to pads, tenting their fingers between them. “Take a break,” she said softly instead. “I’m not going anywhere and you look like shit.”

He blinked. “Once you get off that cross, you can try giving me orders. You don’t know me if you think I’ll let you deal with a minute of this alone. How about we go back to our car games? I’m thinking charades. Granted, I’ll have the advantage, but you’re not the kind of woman who whines about things being unfair.”

Instead of laughing, something crumpled in her expression. He was out of the chair in an instant, bringing his much larger body close, cloaking her so she could only feel him, see the spread of his palms on either side of her face and not the chains. “I’m here, Anwyn. Hang in there. I’m not going anywhere. I’m okay.”

“I know. It’s so irrational.”

“No, not irrational at all. I don’t get all that thrilled about being tied up, either. In fact, you remember you had to use a gag to shut me up. More than one vamp has threatened to cut out my tongue. Actually, I think my brother threatened once or twice as well. My third grade teacher—”

She pressed her forehead to the bridge of his nose and he slid his lips along her cheek. “A problem, even in third grade? You needed more spankings.” The corner of her mouth quirked as he raised his head. “Or maybe that’s what you were angling for.”

“Not my thing. I’m not the ‘I’ve been a bad, bad boy and why doesn’t Mommy spank me’ kind of guy.”

“No, you’re not. But you are the bad boy, Gideon. The kind that most every woman wants to experience. One that sweeps a woman off her feet.” She laid her forehead on his shoulder again, breathing deep.

He stroked the back of her skull, followed the silky curves of her braided hair. “I don’t know about that. But is that what you’re looking for?”

“
I’m
not that kind of girl.” Tilting her face into his right hand, she let it rest there, her eyes half-closed again. Her voice dropped to that alluring murmur, a whisper of breath on the syllables. “I’m the one who wants to take the bad boy and teach him how to be really bad, all at my command. I want to take away the pain that makes him so bad, give him a clean kind of pain, make him lose his mind so all he wants is to give his soul to me.”

“Just so you aren’t asking for a lot.” Gideon’s throat had thickened and she heard it, because her eyes opened, gazing at him with a speculative glint.

“Maybe you’re not the put-me-over-Mommy’s-knee type,” she mused. “But you respond well to pain, administered the right way. The bite of my nails, the cut of a switch. Rawhide kissing your testicles with the right amount of sting so that you’d learn to say, ‘Yes, Mistress,’ when you kneel in front of me. Maybe we’ll get the chance to see that happen.”

The blue-green intensity of her gaze had ratcheted up enough that it was as if she had no chains on her at all, her focus all on him, his heat, his touch, his body. All hers. Gideon felt it as if she’d actually locked a collar around him with her words, her forthright stare that seemed to see nothing but him. For a brief, pleasurable moment, she’d found an avenue back to herself. As long as their gazes stayed locked, unblinking, she seemed able to stay in that spot. As for himself, he wasn’t sure if he could have looked away if he’d wanted to do so.

“What else would you like to see happen . . . Mistress?” He told himself he was just keeping her going, distracting her, dispelling that panic attack. But it was doing something no less unsettling to him.

“I’d like to put your cock in a harness, watch it stay hard for me for hours, gag you with a metal bit when you mouthed off to me, as you’d be tempted to do. See you bend and kiss my foot for forgiveness, your beautiful bare ass rising high to the caress of my hand, knees spread wide so I could close my hand over your balls, squeeze them hard. You’d give me that, Gideon, because of what I could give you in return. Everything.”

Leaving him staring at her, she laid her head back and softly hummed with the music. After a few unsettled moments where he realized he had no response for her, therefore making silence the wisest option, he straddled the wooden chair in front of her again. When he draped one arm over the back, he ran a light hand along her knee, the back of her calf, a reassurance. But for which of them, he didn’t know.

“What does this song make you think about?” she asked abruptly.

He closed his eyes, listening. “Fish.”

“Fish?”

“Yeah,” he said, keeping up the stroke on her leg. “Reminds me of how they dart forward so fast, but then put on the brakes to drift, as if they have all the time in the world.” The music changed to a staccato, and his lips curved. “That’s them at the top, seeking food, making the water ripple up like when the wind passes over it. The slower, more tranquil part is when they all swim together.”

When he saw her surprised look, he lifted a shoulder. “I’ve spent a couple days at an aquarium before. It was . . . quiet.” It had been in one of the towns that had a large community aquarium. While he was between hunts, he sometimes ate a sandwich there, watched the fish, because in that place he didn’t have to worry so much about guarding his back.

The music swelled to a crescendo. When she looked at him, obviously hoping for another visual, he shook his head. “I got nothing for that.”

“It’s a sudden rainstorm. The water is striking the surface in a thousand different places, so the fish are all floating on the bottom, listening to the drum of it, waiting for the storm to pass.”

Gideon turned at the quiet words. Daegan stood in the doorway, watching them both.

15

D
AEGAN had smelled the scent of blood and vomit throughout their ground-level apartment before he even stepped off the elevator. Fortunately, the strongest source of it appeared to be in a laundry basket set up just outside the dungeon area. When he’d slid silently into the apartment, he’d paused, listening to them talk. He’d wanted a moment, because though he’d known this was going to be a rough transition, he hadn’t entirely expected the lingering vibrations in the apartment to be as violent as they were.

If that hadn’t told him what the past day had been like, the haggard look on the vampire hunter’s face, the stiff way he sat, as if only his will was keeping him vertical, would have. Then there was Anwyn herself, chained like a dangerous monster, though he could see where the anchor chain had been about to give way and knew Gideon had had no choice. Her hair was braided, but some of it had come loose and snarled around her face. He’d kept her cleaned off, but still there were smears of blood here and there, and of course she smelled like vomit and blood as well, her white face as strained as Gideon’s was exhausted.

Still, from their quiet banter, it was obvious they were hanging in there. It gave him an unexpected sense of pride in both of them.

She saw him first, but Gideon was already turning, as if he’d sensed his approach. The raw need in Anwyn’s face, never so naked and plain before, affected him with embarrassing sentiment, making him ignore any reservations he’d normally have in the hunter’s presence. Dropping the black tote on the chair, he was with her within an instant. Daegan put his hands on her face, one under her nape, and kissed her hard, fierce.

As he did, he was vaguely aware of Gideon unsnapping the lock holding the additional chains on her arms and working them loose, using the manual control on the side of the cross to give her enough slack to put her arms around Daegan’s shoulders. A bit of sensitivity he wouldn’t have expected from the man, but he didn’t question it.

Daegan brought Anwyn up against him, holding her shuddering body close. A tremor went through his own, feeling her fear and vulnerability, how much she had suffered these past many hours. Yet here she was, still Anwyn. Though he knew how strong she was, he was sure he owed a good deal of that to the male awkwardly standing on their periphery.

When Gideon started to ease back to give them the semblance of privacy, one of her hands fell away from Daegan and captured Gideon’s fingers without even looking, keeping him there with them. Daegan could tell it surprised the vampire hunter, as well as when he himself gave the man’s shoulder a bruising squeeze of welcome, registering the tense, weary muscles. Christ, did the man think they’d simply used him, and had no regard for him otherwise?

An issue for a later time. For now, it was a long moment before Daegan pulled back from Anwyn, but only far enough to put his forehead to hers.

“I’m so sorry,
cher
. Did I leave you in good hands, or do I need to rip his heart out of his chest?”

“You do that, word’s going to get around and you won’t be able to find a babysitter for her again.” When Anwyn at last dropped his hand, Gideon backed up, but only to lean against the wall. “She’s a real brat. She throws tantrums.”

Anwyn smiled at them both through a sheen of tears. “He’s been so generous, Daegan. Make him go rest now. I’m worried about him.”

“I’m right here, and I’m not leaving,” Gideon reiterated. “I’m going to help get that blood into you.”

Daegan noted that the hunter had not doubted he would bring the blood with him. Of course, he would have done it or died trying, and maybe Gideon had understood that.

Anwyn spoke in an unexpectedly determined, cool voice. “I appreciate you doing that, Daegan, but as I said before you left, there was no need. I’m not going to take it.”

It was as if she were politely refusing a dinner invitation because of other plans. Daegan exchanged glances with Gideon, but before he could draw the man away to get a better sense of what might be happening, Gideon straightened from the wall. There was a flicker to his expression that she apparently understood all too well, for the eyes she turned back to Daegan were a little wild, muscles tensing under his hands on her delicate face, slim neck.

“All I need is the two of you here. I feel balanced. The music is playing, and everything will be all right.” His brow creased as her voice faltered. Red color blushed across her sternum and the base of her neck, obscenely like the rose tint of an impending climax.

“She’s going again,” Gideon warned in a low voice.

“No.” She cried out as Daegan’s hands tightened on her. “Don’t give it to me, Daegan. It will be like . . .” A strangled sound ripped from her throat as she fought the convulsion.

“Don’t fight it,” Gideon urged her. “You know that makes it worse.”

She ignored him, struggling to get the words out. “Taking his blood will be . . . like . . . raping me again . . .” The syllable became a long, low cry, and Gideon went for the wall control.

“No,” Daegan said sharply. Turning her in his arms so her back was to him, the chains wrapped around his forearm, he went to a crouch on the floor. He folded her to the ground between his knees, his body sheltering her.

Gideon watched as the vampire held her fast against him, even as the convulsion swept over her full force. She struggled and snarled, whipped her head around and sank her fangs into his arm. Keeping his head bent over hers, his concentration completely upon her such that the energy around them was a heated, pulsing thing, Daegan let her drink, holding her with just his knees and the one arm around her upper body. With the other, he stroked her hair, watching her suckle off his arm like a vicious nursing cub, growling and hissing all along. Her nails stabbed into his flesh on either side of her embedded fangs. The chains clanked as she fought him, but he was far more powerful than a fledgling vampire. Even though that fledgling vampire could easily have thrown Gideon across the room.

Sure, he’d babysat her, held her hand for a day or so. This male could actually take care of her, keep her from all harm. Because he was a vampire, what Gideon was sworn to kill. Just like she was.

It was a red-alert flag, a reminder that this was all temporary. Soon, she wouldn’t need him further. In fact, with Daegan back, he knew that was already the case, physically. A cold, hard insight that didn’t seem to hold sway over his personal, selfish need. He wanted to stay. Even if she didn’t need him any longer.

Evidently, she’d passed out, as she sometimes did right after the most violent ones. Daegan’s gentler restraint had kept her from hurting herself, but she’d still oozed blood from her skin. He’d shifted her so the bloody vomit landed more on the tile than on either of them. Now he lifted her, maneuvering around the chains, and took her to the sofa. Laying her there, he caressed her face, arranged her limbs as comfortably as possible. Though his movements were smooth, tender, his face was back to that fixed mask. When he withdrew, he gestured to Gideon. The two left the cell, Gideon closing it. Daegan took them into the front room where Gideon assumed he’d keep a hypersensitive ear tuned to the dungeon area in case she woke.

“Has she been like this throughout?” Daegan said quietly.

“Yeah.” Gideon glanced down at the blood smeared on his arm and Daegan followed his attention. “Each one leaves her more tired than the last; each one is more vicious than the last. Sometimes she talks like him . . . Barnabus. Short spurts. Nasty, crazy things. She doesn’t seem aware of it.”

Daegan digested that. Though his expression didn’t change, Gideon wondered if he was thinking he didn’t make Barnabus and his crew suffer enough. Whatever he’d done to them, Gideon agreed. “When she wakes, we are going to give her the sire’s blood,” the vampire said curtly. “I assume we don’t have a disagreement on that.”

“None at all.”

Daegan pressed his lips together. “Her sire was a homeless schizophrenic turned by a fugitive from a facility for the criminally insane. Who was initially turned by a weak made vampire.”

“Shit.” Gideon rubbed a hand over his face. “Is his blood going to help or hurt?”

“It should help. Usually the amounts needed are very small, as you know. The timing for them is vital to help manage the bloodlust, and the violence of the bloodlust attacks are probably what are driving her deeper into his madness.”

“Yeah. Probably.” Gideon glanced toward their motionless charge. “Doesn’t seem to cover all of it.”

“Explain.” Daegan’s tone was that of a field colonel, demanding an answer or there would be hell to pay. But Gideon was more comfortable with that than circuitous chitchat.

“Whatever it is that makes her . . . what she is, is having a very hard time with this. For a while the bloodlust was covering it, but I caught it a little while ago. She’s been having panic attacks all along, and those might be contributing to the increasing frequency of the seizures and bloodlust. Stress makes things worse. She’s damn good at covering, too good.”

“She always has been,” Daegan grumbled. “It’s very difficult to tell when she is truly upset, until it’s too late.”

“Particularly in this case,” Gideon agreed somberly. “I think the lack of control is eating at her worse than anything. She can tell they’re getting worse, and that an element of her mind is slipping away from her. If we don’t give her back some true sense of control soon, something she can use as an anchor against all the rest, I think she’ll break her own mind before the bad blood does it for her.” He shifted. “The flip side is, if we give her that, I think she’s strong enough to handle anything. I just don’t know what’ll do that for her.”

Something clicked in Daegan’s gaze, something that apparently startled him enough to disrupt his typically inscrutable expression. Gideon cocked his head. “I ring a bell?”

“Perhaps. Give me a few moments to consider it.” The vampire sank to a squat on his heels, eschewing the furniture, his duster pooling around him. Gideon could almost hear the gears shifting; then he saw a humorless tug at Daegan’s mouth, a flicker in his dark eyes.

“It is something I believe, oddly enough, you are best suited to provide, Gideon. So we will have to consider an alternative.”

“What do you mean? I’ll give her whatever she needs.”

Daegan lifted a brow, tilting his head up. “Such heroic declarations are usually meaningless bullshit, vampire hunter. We all have our lines in the sand.”

“The Kung Fu David Carradine Grasshopper crap hits the manure meter just as hard. Spit it out.”

“Like most things, what could break her is also the key to what could save her. She is an incomparable Mistress, Gideon. Very focused. You said it yourself. If we give her something that is hers, something that can’t be taken away from her, it may help.”

“Christ, are you a woman? Would you just fucking say it?”

“Fine.” Daegan rose. “Let her make you her servant. Let her into your head.”

The words hit his brainpan, but they had to sizzle and burn before they penetrated. Gideon stared at him. “I didn’t hear you right.”

“You heard me well enough.” Daegan gave him an even look. “A new vampire doesn’t usually take a full servant for many years, because she must learn how to guard her thoughts, and not plumb the servant’s mind too deeply. In Anwyn’s case, because of the poison in her sire’s blood, I believe she needs someone immediately. You already anticipate her attacks, and with a mind connection, you could help her with bouts of erratic behavior that may continue past the bloodlust transition.”

“So you want me to be like some kind of dog for the disabled.”

“If you like. She has many collars here. I suspect you like rhinestones.”

“I suspect you can fuck off.”

Daegan’s look became steel, an expression suggesting Gideon was about to cross a line.
Good.
He liked to see it clearly when he stepped over it. “I’m not becoming any vampire’s slave, not now, not ever,” he said emphatically.

“As long as you see it that way, I believe you,” Daegan agreed. “But I know you’d lay down your life for any woman in need. This is no different. A servant is not only functional. A third mark is a reserve of strength for a vampire. When something knocks a vampire off her axis, the servant can provide the strength to steady the boat.”

Gideon knew that, damn it. Lyssa had drawn strength from Jacob when she most needed it. “You know, I’m getting sick of hearing the things you know about me, without explaining how you know them.”

“Another topic, another time. We will stay focused on this.”

“Then don’t bullshit me. You’re not the only one who knows things. She’ll be a vampire,” Gideon said shortly. “Doesn’t matter what she was yesterday; I know what happens. How she’ll change. And what being a servant means in your world.”

He almost snarled at Daegan’s fixed expression. “I’m the wrong choice for it. When and if she wants a servant, she’ll choose someone else. Someone better. In a couple weeks, when she’s well on her way through the worst of this”—he hoped—“you won’t even need me. I’ll head out.”

“And go back to killing vampires like her.” Daegan leaned against a support column. A small photograph of a peaceful beach had been hung there, some original signed print. A sunrise, lots of reds and golds and pinks. An early-morning beauty that would be a death sentence for Anwyn if she were caught out in it.