by Joey W. Hill
With great reluctance, he heaved himself out of bed and headed for the shower. By the time he had the water turned on full force he was hard as a steel rod again. It seemed all he had to do was think of the ethereal Selene, and his cock stood up and saluted. Leaning against the tile wall, the spray beating down on his body, he cupped his balls with one hand while he rubbed his cock with the other.
Yeah, he knew he was supposed to call her to do this, but if she was mad at him, that was probably just yesterday's game, everything re-set now. If he didn't release some of this pressure, he wasn't going to be able to focus.
As her image danced in his brain he stroked himself, another orgasm gathering deep inside his body like a coil of steel set to spring. He saw her fingers wrapped around him, her lips surrounding the head of his shaft, her tongue lapping the flesh sheathing the hard rod of his penis. The muscles at the base of his spine stiffened, his balls tightened and he erupted like a geyser, spewing the thick liquid over his hand.
He struggled to even out his breathing as the water washed away the semen, evidence of his body's addiction to this woman. It took awhile before he could draw a full breath, his heartbeat steadying down to something close to normal. But it took him longer to dry himself off, his limbs heavy, his body protesting his demands on it.
Wiping the steam from the mirror over the sink, he stared at himself. Then his gaze landed on the mark on his wrist, no bigger than the sting of an insect. It jumped out at him as if bathed in a spotlight. Vaguely, he remembered her nicking him with his pocket knife, then her mouth sealing over the spot, but he'd thought it was part of his dreams. Well, that explained the relocation of his pocket knife. Was that why he was so weak? Was he crazy to let someone drink his blood, play into her fantasy about being a vampire? He had a ranch to run.
After a vampire gives the second mark, she can speak in her servant's head and allow him to hear her thoughts, when she wants him to do that. Her words from the night before were as distinct as if she had just uttered them. But last night she had refused to give him that second mark. She had laid out all the reasons why it wouldn't be a good idea. Accused him of being a romantic when he embraced the idea of hearing her voice in his head. But he wouldn't mind carrying her voice around with him all the time. It soothed him, calmed him, even as her touch drove him to extreme peaks of sexual arousal.
If serving her was the key to their intense physical pleasure, he was definitely all for it. Even if it meant serving her on his knees. Who the hell would have ever thought that would be such a turn-on for him?
His buttocks clenched again as he remembered her promise to fuck his ass with a strap-on, wrists bound to restrain him. His poor exhausted dick tried its best to harden again. The feel of his fingers in that hot dark tunnel had been so arousing he'd had to grit his teeth to maintain some semblance of control. And they were his own damn fingers. His breathing accelerated and he gripped the edge of the sink. It seemed Selene might be otherworldly after all, since she apparently had cast some kind of spell on him.
He touched the mark on his wrist, enraged again at the thought of her marking Turley so she could feed. Feed, for shit's sake. Whether he truly believed everything she told him, he planned to do whatever it took so her mouth never touched anyone again except him. He would tell her so, tonight. Make damn sure she understood.
Annette was cleaning up the counters when he finally made it into the kitchen. She gave him a hard look but said only, "I kept your breakfast warm in the oven. You look like you need it. The coffee's fresh."
"Thanks."
There was no way he could put his body through the rigors of ranch work today. Anyway, he still had records to update--weight gain, feed mixture and myriad minutiae that went into breeding saleable stock. He called Dave Ojeda on the two-way and told him to take care of whatever needed doing out there. He, Quinn, would be in his office if they needed him.
But even the paperwork seemed to tax him. His mind kept wandering, remembering Selene's body, her satiny skin, the brush of her glossy hair against his body. The incredibly gentle touch of her fingers even as she drew yet another exhausting climax from him.
In her joke about her shrine to Satan he'd detected an odd anxiety, as if she wanted to discourage him from fully believing in the vampire thing. He was a practical man all in all, not one to be drawn in by hustlers, promises of easy money or miracles too good to be true, but he also knew how to draw conclusions from the available evidence, and there was a lot of evidence gathering when it came to Selene. Her obvious worry last night that he was actually starting to believe her might just be one of the biggest indications it could be true. If he were a vampire trying to blend, wouldn't he depend on people's skepticism, their easy dismissal that someone who thought they were a vampire actually wasn't, to protect the truth?
But his open-mindedness to the otherworldly was only part of why he was going along with this. The real reason, he was sure, was the unexpected bond he felt with Selene. The idea of being her servant wasn't at all unappealing. And the craziest thing? He was beginning to feel comfortable with the concept. The big alpha cowboy was actually settling in to the idea of giving control to a woman who was as insubstantial as a faery and barely came up to his chest.
You're addicted to the sex.
Well, yeah. Maybe. It was certainly better than any he'd ever had in his life. But it was more than that. She had a power over him that bound him more tightly than any lariat or whip yet he welcomed the restraint.
I am so fucked.
He finally lay down on the couch across from his desk, where he fell into a half-doze. But he was restless, taunted by thoughts of a naked Selene straddling him. Giving up, he went to sit on the back porch, hoping fresh air would cleanse his addled brain. It might have, if the butterfly hadn't appeared, riding a current of air to land on his knee.
Quinn stared at the gossamer wings, that same smoky blue of Selene's tempting eyes and the liquid gold of her hair. Damn. He could almost hear her regal voice, commanding him.
Would you take off your clothes out here if I told you to, cowboy?
Quinn shook his head. He was losing his fucking mind.
Annette gave him an odd look when he gave dinner a quick pass, excusing himself and muttering something about lack of appetite.
"You feeling okay, Quinn?" she asked.
"Yes. Fine. Good." Horny. "I just need to get down to the bar."
"I thought that new manager you hired had everything under control. Rumor is she's some hot piece."
Rage boiled up inside him. "You tell anyone who runs their mouth that Selene is a lady, a sharp one, too smart to fiddle with the likes of anyone around here. If I hear any talk or see anyone taking liberties they'll be looking up at the sky from a dumpster."
"Okay, okay!" She held up her hands. "Pardon me all to hell."
"She's doing a damn fine job, in case you wanted to know. I just thought I'd see if she needed a hand."
He could feel Annette's eyes boring holes in him as he headed out of the kitchen. The woman was too smart for her own good.
He showered once more, even though he hadn't done any hard work during the day, and shaved carefully. Again he touched the mark on his wrist. According to Selene the third mark was the one that made him fully her servant. So if the second mark was an interim step that would give them both more energy but not completely bind him, why wouldn't she do it?
Whether he believed everything she said or not, it stunned him to realize how intensely he craved that second mark. Maybe even the third one. As he brushed his teeth, splashed on aftershave and dressed in clean clothes, he was besieged with an urgency to see her, so much so that he had to stop himself from speeding as he headed down the highway into town.
Despite it being a weeknight, After Hours was busy. Carol was on shift tonight and moving easily from table to table, serving drinks and bussing the empties efficiently. Apparently she'd had the Selene speed-training program. Selene was behind the bar, mixing
drinks, working the cash register and bestowing her public smile on each customer who ordered.
He moved into the barback with her, filled two beers for customers and tapped her on the shoulder. When she gave him a cool stare, it was clear she'd been fully aware of his arrival. As usual.
"You're in my way, cowboy."
Whoa. What the hell? "Just wanted to make sure you had everything you needed."
"Of course I do. I don't need you hovering." She frowned. "Or are you doubting my abilities?"
Okay, this was not about getting in her space. It had to be about him falling asleep. Damn it, this was what he'd been afraid of. But she had to know she'd worn him out. Hadn't it been her telling him to close his eyes?
"Listen." He drew a breath. "I want to apologize--"
She bumped into him as she took a bottle down from a back shelf. "Not now. I have customers to serve."
Though he bristled at her tone, a glance around showed way too many interested ears perked. This was getting him nowhere fast. He'd best wait until the crowd died down and he could get her alone.
"Fine. I'll be in the office," he told her shortly and headed down the hallway.
If he lived to be a hundred he didn't think he'd ever understand women. He'd roped steers that weren't as cantankerous. Last night when she showed up at the ranch with no warning, he'd thought he was dreaming. He'd been lying in bed half asleep and suddenly there she was, in his room, as if he'd just conjured her up.
His cock swelled and pressed against his fly at the memory of her hands on his body, massaging and rubbing. He hadn't thought he'd be able to participate, as worn out as he was, but Selene managed to coax his body to mate with her in a hot, lazy coupling. Her voice had enveloped him like molasses as she took him into the wetness of her cunt and drew his response out of him.
Like a Mistress. Like the Mistress she told him she was.
It had all been so good, and then he'd gone and fallen asleep, asshole that he was. He'd make it up to her, if he could just get her to talk to him.
The hours dragged by as he did his best to pass the time in the office. A few times he lounged in the entrance to the main room, checking out the crowd. Checking out Selene. But she either scowled at him or ignored him completely.
He crafted a few apologies in his head, but as time passed, he couldn't help feeling the punishment wasn't exactly matching the crime. He'd been worn out, and at least he'd made sure she'd had pleasure before he dropped off. She was the one who'd shown up unexpected. Damn it, he wasn't a cringing doormat, and if she thought she could talk to him like dirt just because he let her tie him up, they needed to talk that shit out.
He'd reached the end of his patience by the time he heard the sound of people leaving, Carol and Manuel calling good night. Finally--finally!--he heard the tap of Selene's heels on the concrete floor as she headed for the office. He forced himself to wait, sitting at his desk, as she opened the door and stepped in, carrying the drawer from the cash register.
"I see you're still here."
How could someone who looked so fragile exude such strength and control? But isn't that part of what draws me to her?
"In case you forgot," he drawled, "I own the place."
"In that case," she retorted, "you'll want this tallied and locked up for the bank. That means moving out of that chair."
He dropped his booted feet from the desk where they'd been resting and leaned forward. Taking the cash drawer from her, he set it on the desk and rose to come around it. Before she could move away, he'd curled his fingers around her wrists. When she tried to tug free, he tightened his hold.
"Enough," he said. "I know why you're pissed off at me and I should at least get a chance to apologize."
Her eyes widened. "Excuse me?"
"I'm sorry I fell asleep, okay? It was more than rude of me." Sitting his ass on the edge of the desk, he reeled her in closer until she was standing between his thighs. "My only explanation is I was worn out from a hard day of work and you took what little energy I had left. It won't happen again. You have my word."
"What are you talking about?"
"Last night. I owe you an apology." He frowned. "Isn't that why you're so pissed off at me?"
She took so long to answer him, the regret he'd battled all day surged over the irritation. Had he lost her already? He was seized with an uncommon need to pull her tightly to his body and demand she forgive him. To tell her she belonged to him. That she was his and no one else's. But for once in his life, common sense took over. He had an innate sense that was exactly the wrong tack to take. As hard as it was, he had to force himself to wait for her to say something. Anything.
Her mouth had tightened, and she suddenly looked drawn, tired. "This isn't your fault. I told you to go to sleep and you did."
He stared at her, puzzled. "Then what's this all about? I ask you out on a date, you show up in my bedroom and fuck my brains out. Now you won't talk to me."
She shifted her attention to where his fingers gripped her wrists. At once he released her, although he was afraid she'd turn and run out the door.
Selene backed away from him, that inner battle reflected in the turmoil in her eyes. She inhaled and let her breath out, the movement tightening the fabric of her dress across her breasts. Normally it would have been distracting, but there was something far bigger in the room, making it hard to breathe for the wrong reasons.
"I can't do this, Quinn. I know this is hard to understand, and I shouldn't be taking it out on you. In my world..." She gave a half laugh, tinged with bitterness. "In your world, I'd be eligible for retirement. Yet in my world...I always thought it was bullshit, what they said about age, made vampires, all that."
His brow creased, but he held his tongue. If he started asking stupid questions, she might stop talking, and fortunately, whatever she'd been holding inside looked like it was ready to boil forth.
She paced to the back of the office, turned and leaned against the wall. She settled her hands in a fold behind her, which raised her breasts, accentuated every lovely line of her body. What made it even more provocative was how unconscious it was.
"I'm sixty-two years old, Quinn. Given the average lifespan for a made vampire is four hundred to six hundred years old, I'm barely out of my teens. When I was made, it was explained to me that made vampires have impulse problems, especially in the first hundred years. It's why we're kept so close to our sire or mentor during the first fifty or sixty years, and then it's up to that sire to decide when to loosen the reins, give a young vampire more independence, the ability to move more freely around your assigned territory. Have your own career, job, relationships, what have you. If you don't have a sire, you're assigned a mentor who takes on that role. A mentor isn't held as strictly responsible if you screw up as your sire would be, but it's still a heavy responsibility."
"You had a mentor instead of a sire?" he ventured. She nodded.
"There's a prejudice toward made vampires in our world. The born vampires are our aristocracy. If you're merely born a vampire, you're given the title 'lord' or 'lady' at birth." Her lip curled derisively. "You have to become an overlord to earn that as a made vampire, and very few of us do that. So I didn't give the issue of 'impulse control' much credit. Just figured it was more of the snooty born vampire bullshit, trying to make us feel inferior. I should have listened better."
Her gaze locked with his. "Last night I almost second marked you when you were awake, and then, when you went to sleep, I came so damn close. Too close. It would have been inappropriate of me to mark you without giving you a choice. A fully informed choice."
Quinn didn't know whether to rejoice that the problem here was not with him or to turn her over his knee and paddle her ass for putting him through this. He straightened.
"Selene, I told you last night, I want whatever it takes to bind us together. Anything. I've made my choice."
She shook her head, flattened herself against the wall as if she'd step back farther if
she could. "Stop it. You don't understand."
"Then explain it to me, because whatever it is, it's eating away at you."
Again a silence stretched between them. This time when she raised her lashes he saw her eyes had gone cold, empty. Eerie and still.
"In my world, your consent is the only thing required," she said, low. "After that, every choice belongs to me. Do you understand that, Quinn? There's no law against me killing you if you displease me, whether it's quick, or I torture you for days. It's ironic that they give you the choice to become a slave, but that's the only choice you have. Then there's my own status. I am nothing in my world, the lowest on the feeding chain. If another vampire wants to use my servant for himself or herself, I have no choice but to allow it, a twisted form of hospitality rule."
She gave a short, bitter laugh. "Every vampire is required to attend his or her overlord's gathering once yearly, where that can and will happen, with a multitude of other servants."
He digested that. Did he believe all this? It was getting hard to discount it, especially with the complexity of it, the depth of her obvious belief. He supposed that was her point, to shove him toward the "bitch is crazy and back away" side of things. He cleared his throat. "I'm guessing made vampires think about this stuff more than born vampires. You're still human enough to have a conscience about it. Obviously."
Pain crossed her gaze. "Yes. Though that feeling goes away with the years. I was told that as well, didn't believe it either, and now I've already done more than I should with you, than conscience should allow."
"But other than that, what's the problem?"
She stared at him. "I get that you don't believe any of this, Quinn. But don't make light of this or mock me."
"I'm not." He injected enough steel into his tone to win an answering spark in her eyes. "I honestly don't know what to believe, Selene. Yeah, a part of me keeps wanting to say you're just some insane, hot woman with the delusion she's a vampire. But maybe I'm just as crazy, because there are things about you that tell me that might not be the case. I might not be to the point I can say out loud I believe it, but I'm not entirely on the not-believing side of the fence. But that's not the point. You are. There's more to this for you. I feel it. What is it?"
