by Joey W. Hill
Instead she helped him to his feet, kept a steadying arm around him until he was back in the car. "Keep going," she told the men in the front. "Get us where we need to go."
He closed his eyes, his hand clasped with hers, her free hand tracing circles over his knuckles as the SUV bumped along what was barely a cow path, but Butch's vehicles were outfitted for range driving.
When he realized the vehicle had stopped, he thought he might have spaced out into some weird limbo state. Not a doze, but a trance of not thinking, not doing, just existing. She helped him out again and thanked the drivers, assured them they didn't need anything further. Quinn rallied enough to move forward then, put his hand on the driver's open window. The two men had the kind of tanned, creased faces he'd known all his life, the steady eyes of ranch hands used to dealing with all sorts of unexpected things. Like him, these guys had discovered how big a spectrum that could mean with vampires.
"Thanks," Quinn said. "Thanks for everything."
They both nodded. "Would have been a much better day if that piece of shit had given us an excuse to shoot," Jim said.
"Yeah. Well, can't have everything."
Jim grinned. "Go get a shower." His glance shifted meaningfully. "If any of us were going home with her, we'd make an effort to not look like shit."
Quinn couldn't pull off a smile, but he did well enough, because the driver gave him an understanding nod, and then they were pulling off.
Quinn turned to see Selene standing a few paces away. She was studying the cabin, the watering hole and the land stretching out behind. Her shoulders adjusted as she took a deep breath, tilted her head back, letting it rest on her shoulders.
He managed to move the few steps necessary to be close to her, standing at her back. He wanted to touch her, hold her, but he felt oddly constrained. "What are you doing?" he asked instead.
"Tasting freedom."
He nodded. He couldn't stand anymore. Literally. Before he could fight it, he'd dropped to his knees behind her. Just stayed that way, head bowed. He couldn't speak or do anything. He just wanted to be near her, like this, making it clear to the whole world what she was to him, even as he needed somehow, desperately, to ask her help to make him feel whole. Which made him ashamed of himself. She'd been through as much and worse, not just today but a lot of days before that, working for Laurent for all those years, dealing with her sire's murder, dealing with so much in sixty-plus years he couldn't comprehend. If he couldn't even survive today, what good was he to her?
"You're trying to make judgments that aren't yours to make." She'd pivoted, and her hand touched his brow, stroking through the strands of hair over it. "Dix was giving you a message, Quinn. Haven't you learned you slow-talking cowboys never say anything carelessly? This world is experienced day by day. Learned, day by day. We have survived this one, enough to have the pleasure of the night. My servant. My love," she added softly, her fingers stilling on his brow.
"I'm sorry, Mistress. Forgive me."
They were almost the same words she'd said to him, back when he'd tended to her at the bar, and he was somewhat horrified to know it was for the same reason. The moment he said them, he started to shake. His throat ached and burned even worse than his ass had earlier, and his heart swelled like it was going to explode.
She dropped down to one knee, her slim arms circling his shoulders, her cheek pressed against the side of his head. Despite her size, she had a firm, strong grip. He didn't care about the pressure against his tender skin. She was the force holding him together as he shuddered, as the images flashed through his head over and over again, overwhelming him.
"I love you, Quinn. I love you. I'm here."
The words spread through him with an encompassing warmth, cradling his heart and soothing his soul. He slid his arms around her awkwardly but with purpose, toppling back so he was sitting on his ass and he'd pulled her into his lap. He held her close as he could, pressing his face in her hair, tasting her skin. It wasn't sexual at all, not exactly. He wanted to rub himself all over her, let her scent and her touch take everything else away. Then he wanted to bury himself to the hilt in her, but not until he was clean. He had to get clean. Wipe away every trace of Laurent's filth.
"Yes, you do," she murmured, though there was a catch in her voice. "Come bathe with me."
There was enough of a moon on the water to give them light, to give him the pleasure of seeing it limn her skin. She undressed first, unpinning her hair so it fell down her back, the blonde strands silver in the moonlight. She wore only a simple dress that clung to her curves. She stripped it off, unhooked her bra, shimmied out of panties, and then came to him wearing only her shoes, some form of heeled slipper that protected her feet. She pushed him back down to the ground with a smile, one that didn't dilute the emotions in her gaze as she studied him. Turning, she gave him a mouthwatering view as she straddled his one leg, removed his boot, then did the other. When she faced him again, standing over him, he lifted a hand toward her, pausing to meet her gaze.
"You may touch me, Quinn," she said, that hitch in her voice again, her reaction to his waiting for the permission. Needing it.
Laying his fingertips on her bare thigh, he caressed her skin, sliding up to trace the crease between thigh and sex. He passed his touch lightly over her mound, again just for the pleasure of touching perfection. Of touching his Mistress.
"Jeans off," she said, her eyes luminous.
He obeyed, though he had to get up to do it and he winced in relief as the waistband's hold eased from his sensitive skin, as he peeled the denim off his ass. He was so tired. Heartsick and tired, but the quiet around them, her presence with him, all of it gave him hope that it would be all right. That Dix's words would be true, that each day was a new beginning, a new slate to do it right. Learn and grow. And love her even better than he had the day before.
"Oh Quinn." She reached up, cupped his jaw. Lifting up on her toes, she pressed her mouth to his, a slow, seeking kiss that had her leaning fully into his naked body. It inspired his formerly numb arms to slide around her, then tighten like a vise, as if he could hold her so close she'd be inside him. The kiss became deeper, needier, and she made a pleasurable sound in her throat. He felt her desire unfurl, felt his abused cock miraculously come to life, and not because of that goddamn ointment. It hardened against the press of her thighs, responding to what she demanded of him. Responding to her.
He'd damn well find the strength in the rest of his body to do what he wanted to do for her. For them both. "Take off your shoes," he muttered against her mouth.
"Giving orders," she teased gently, but she slipped out of them. Bending, he lifted her, and found he could do that. He could carry her, and the ability to do that much was a small, precious victory. Praying his knees wouldn't buckle and he didn't step on anything that would spear his foot and make him scream like a girl, he moved down to the watering hole.
The water still held the heat of the day, but was cool enough to be pleasurable. He slid into the depths, letting her legs go so she could twine them around his waist as he moved them toward the middle where it was deep enough it came up to his shoulders. He'd never wanted to immerse himself more.
Take us both under, Quinn.
He didn't need to be told twice. Dropping beneath the surface, he groaned with the pleasure of it as she threaded her fingers through his sweaty, bloodstained hair, cleansing it in the flow of the water.
When they surfaced, they floated together, a drifting waltz. She laid her head on his shoulder and he held her as she held him, no words needing to be said.
"Eventually we need to go use the shower," she whispered. "So I can clean my servant thoroughly. Inside and out."
The images she gave him made him flush. "I can do some of that myself."
"If your Mistress commanded you, then you would. But she wants to do it herself." Lifting herself up to kiss him again, she caught her fingers in his hair, pulling enough to elicit a more volatile reaction as sh
e moved insistently against him. His cock nudged between her thighs, but she denied him, adjusting so it was trapped between them, her mound pressed firmly upon it to keep it restrained and stimulated at once.
He couldn't believe he was feeling desire. She'd said a third mark was always ready to rise to the occasion, that that was part of the perks of a vampire having a full servant, but it wasn't the physical capability that startled him. Or gave him warring feelings of shame and desire both, cramping his stomach again.
"Quinn." She had his face in her hands, was pinning him with that steely blue look. "What Laurent did to you, it was no more than a physical reaction. I know that. You know that. Don't give him that power over you. Did you give him your heart?"
"No. God no." He locked his gaze with hers. "My heart belongs only to you, Mistress. Only to you. Now and forever."
"Then don't let him steal your soul." She drew a breath. "There were times...I had to do things at his command. The first time, I felt as you do now. Ashamed, angry, helpless...unclean. But we endure. If we love and live, he has gained nothing from us but a moment of our lives. Butch was not far off on it. Laurent is hated and feared by everyone except perhaps Claudio." She threaded her fingers through his thick hair, wet and slicked back to his skull, then passed her touch over his jaw, his cheekbones, showing him in her mind her pleasure with his features, the beauty of his brown eyes, the strength of his body holding her. "You are a beautiful, brave, amazing man any woman would cherish. I've been fortunate enough to secure your loyalty, enough to bind you to me forever. Do you wish to serve your Mistress?"
"With everything I am," he said hoarsely.
"That was the message Butch was giving you also. Serve me, Quinn, and that service, the bond we share, will be more powerful than anything that comes against us. Before I came to Nightfall, I was running out of hope." Her eyes darkened, showing him the truth of it. "I thought I would be running from Laurent forever, which was just another form of bondage to him. Then I found After Hours and you."
Her lips twisted, at odds with the pain in her eyes, but he saw a fierceness in them as well. "You deserve every good thing, Quinn. But you got me instead. Tonight I realized I truly am all vampire now, because despite everything that happened, I won't give you up."
"I don't want you to," he said back, just as fierce. "You are every good thing to me."
She was right. Understanding that, immersing himself in that, the hold of the past horrible two days lessened. He took them back under again, another baptism, and once under, he put his mouth on hers, guided her legs back around him to roll them in the water, to take advantage of the movement to tease her with his ready cock, win a wiggle and squirm, a pinch that had him smiling against her lips as he brought them back up again. This time the smile felt more real, even if it was still an effort.
"To the shower," she said, and this time there was no doubt she meant right now.
He carried her to the cabin, dipping down to let her snag the overnight bag. Her gaze coursed over the clean, sparse furnishings, but they seemed to meet her approval. When he let her down, she took his hand and the bag and guided him to the shower. The water tank out here wasn't unlimited, but she didn't linger. That didn't mean she wasn't thorough. He found himself pushed up against the wall as she gently removed every bit of crusted blood with washcloth and soap.
"As we both get older, my blood will heal you faster, and your healing abilities will strengthen as well. But most of these are healing nicely."
"I just like hearing how we're going to get older." Together. He didn't mind if she used a scrub brush. As long as she was touching him, the discomfort of those wounds didn't matter at all.
Her lips brushed his shoulder. When she was done with all the areas Laurent had whipped, she turned her attention to cleaning other areas, just as thoroughly. Her fingers parted his buttocks, widening the opening between enough to employ the concentrated jet setting from the detachable shower head.
He was embarrassed, but another part of him felt a sense of relief so strong all he could do was dig his fingers into the wall as she washed whatever Laurent had used out of him. It no longer burned, but he was all too aware it made him slick. It had been lubrication for that vampire, not for his Mistress. She was having none of it. She washed him out, using her fingers with devilish intent, not only cleaning him but stimulating him to the point he was practically violating the wooden side of the shower stall.
"Mistress..."
"Yes, Quinn." Her voice was a satisfied purr. "Beg me for mercy."
"God...fuck." He couldn't think. He was going to come if she didn't stop. "Please, Mistress. I want...you."
"Then you better hold out. Hold every drop of that seed for my pussy."
Christ. She could force him over the edge, he knew it, but he fought with every ounce of control he had. When she finally took her fingers and the stimulating flow of the water away, he was hanging on by his fingernails.
"Turn around, reach up and hold the shower nozzle."
He wanted to turn around, hike her up under her arms, slam that petite body against the boards and fuck her like a mindless bull. But when he turned and met her gaze, he was already reaching up, his muscles tight with eagerness and his cock like a pile driver between his legs. She studied it, her tongue touching her lips. Fuck, he was going to come. His thighs trembled with the effort of holding back.
She cupped his ball sac, rolled it around in her palm while she let her other hand play in his chest hair, her nails scraping a nipple. Idly, she rubbed her thumb along the base of his cock.
"I could play with you all night like this, Quinn. Your body pleases me so much. I love all this hard muscle." Her hand drifted down over the ridges of his abdomen, then around to stroke a buttock, her fingers pushing in toward his rim again. He bucked toward her and she avoided the jut of his cock with a merciless chuckle, letting him go to give it a slap. Then she clamped her small fingers around it and squeezed, earning a groan from him. His fingers squeezed the shower nozzle to the point he was afraid he was going to pull it loose.
"Whose cock is this, Quinn?"
"Yours, Mistress."
"So no matter what Laurent made it do, you knew all along it belonged to me."
"Yes."
"So I'll punish you for spilling your seed without my express permission, and then it's over." Her gaze lifted up and met his, and all the things unsaid were there, the truth between them, waiting to scald him clean.
"Yes ma'am."
She nodded. Then she released him, and her fingers slid up his chest again. When she paused, he looked down.
Several of the strikes Laurent had given him with the cat were still prominent. A trio of staccato marks where he'd torn the flesh with those barbed tips, they looked like a blurred constellation on his flesh and seemed less resistant to the blood she'd given him to heal.
"He used the cat on you that he used on me," she said. "He hadn't cleaned it, had he?"
"No." Quinn's brow furrowed at her unreadable tone. "He said...the bastard said it still had your blood dried on it." His jaw clenched. "I wish Butch had killed him."
She kept looking at the marks, her fingers moving over them. "If a vampire wounds her servant, and then marks it with her own blood, it will create a scar. He didn't think of that." Her palm covered the marks, her fingers spreading over them protectively. Territorially. "These are my marks, Quinn. Marks that belong to me, like the man carrying them."
Shifting her attention to his arm, she let her fingers climb upward. She wasn't tall enough to reach her goal, but obeying the implicit command, he let go of the shower so she could clasp his wrist, bring the third mark she'd given him to her lips. As she cradled his hand against her breasts, her head bowed over it, she leaned up against him. He put his other arm around her, held tight.
"I love you, Mistress. Let me serve you. Please. I need to do this."
She lifted her head so they were eye to eye. "All right. Your punishment is to take me t
o bed, Quinn. Give me three climaxes before you allow your own release."
He'd do her one better than that. "I won't go over until you command it, no matter how many climaxes you want."
He scooped her up in his arms and left the shower. He wasn't waiting for them to dry off. Taking them to the bedroom on this level, no patience to go down to the cellar yet, he laid her wet body on the mattress and covered it with his own. Without any preamble, he spread her legs and thrust into her. He'd deliberately chosen the way it would be most difficult for him not to come, and God, she felt like heaven. He'd seen it in her mind, open to him now, that this was what she wanted first. Him on top of her, surrounding her, holding her, that rutting animal feel that she relished, knowing she was still in control.
She started to come within seconds, telling him how much she needed the feeling as well. He gritted his teeth, her pussy contracting on him. Laurent himself couldn't have devised a worse torment for him, but for her he'd suffer anything. Maybe third marks had better self-control, because he couldn't have imagined being able to hold out like this before that. As it was, it was a near thing, watching her body arch up, her wet breasts quivering, throat arched. He'd nourished himself from that throat to regain strength. She'd cared for him. He'd care for her now.
While she was still shuddering, he withdrew. Her nails raked his flesh, an irritable protest, but one he assuaged when he turned her over. Yes, she was strong enough to put him through walls, but he could also move her around like a pocket Venus. She gave him a narrow glance at the thought, but he promised her in his mind it would be worth it.
He slid some pillows under her to make her comfortable, and then he settled between her spread legs and went to work, mashing his cock hard against the bed to make it mind. In this position, he could not only slide his tongue over and around her flushed clit and swollen labia, but work his way up to her rim. Her cunt was still sensitive from her climax, but he knew how to get it worked up and juicy all over again. He concentrated on the delicate opening of her rectum, dipping his tongue inside as he kneaded her buttocks. Reaching under her, he gripped her breasts, started to massage and manipulate the nipples. He increased the strength of his grip to get rougher as she pushed her ass harder against his face, making little sexy noises that had his cock at painful rigidity.
