She was pleased to find a majority of the Council members prepared to confirm asylum for her fugitives. Not permanently, as she’d wished, but they were amenable to a twenty-five-year moratorium. The formal vote would occur at Court after the Ball tomorrow night.
She also heard snippets of conversations confirming what she already suspected: Carnal and his kind were rapidly gaining support for their belief that immortality made vampires omnipotent and beyond the laws of nature. While it had begun among the younger, made vampires, she was disturbed to hear it gaining ground in more mature ears, those who had not acquired the power or territory they felt they deserved. They believed they could rule the humans and become the dominant species.
At yesterday’s Council briefing Belizar had brushed aside her and Uthe’s exhortations to address the problem before it got out of control. Feeding on the same arrogance as Carnal, Belizar was too confident in the Council’s power.
After tomorrow night, she would no longer be part of that battle. Perhaps it was the frustrated helplessness in that knowledge, or the dwindling sense of her own self, but she found the savage desire to link with Jacob surged up as if it had never been banked when she finally allowed him to escort her back to her rooms.
Almost as soon as the door shut, she tore off her dress, revealing the sheer gray lingerie beneath it. The lingerie he’d picked out and put on her with caressing, teasing hands hours before. When he reached for her, she shoved him down on his back on the bed, tying his hands to the rail with a strip of the dress before she took him in her hand, squeezing the hard, pulsing length of him.
He fought her, perhaps sensing her desire for that and perhaps still riding his own frustration with her earlier mood, but before he could yank against the binding to the point it cut off circulation, she removed the panties and bra and straddled him in a quick, lithe move. As she slammed herself down onto him, her thighs spreading wide to take him in hard and deep, her cunt coming in contact with his pelvis, she watched his eyes go vibrant, his mouth tighten. His muscles strained, his upper torso curving up and making it easier for her hands to touch his chest, his flat stomach. His youth, his strength and pure life. All hers, tragically and miraculously both.
She fucked him, pure and simple, growling as she did so. At one point, she could almost feel that feral part of her wanting to metamorphose, let the talons come forth and slice ribbons out of his skin. Since she’d not completely lost her control, she settled for her fingernails, but she was ruthless with them. Marking his chest, his shoulders, listening to him groan in reaction, feeling his cock harden even further inside her as she bent and licked up the smeared blood, stabbing him with her fangs. He cried out when she raked her nails across the brand. But still he urged her on, the Irish in his voice as he told her to fuck him, fuck him hard, the way she wanted. The way he wanted.
Her flesh spasmed against his rigid flesh, the climax roaring over her. Crying out like a she wolf, long and low, she pounded down on him so her breasts moved generously with her movements. When she craved the press of his fingers on her hips, she shredded the restraint, sparking off the iron headboard with her bloody nails. He was ready, rearing up to grip her hip with one hand, taking possession of her breast with the other, his mouth suctioning over her nipple. As her moan elevated to a scream, Jacob bit and came hard inside her, holding her fast on him, letting her feel the electric shock of those fluids jetting on the sensitive areas inside that only wanted more, more, more. Even as she thought she was going to die from the pleasure of it.
But when his warm, sleeping body curved behind her and she was alone with her thoughts in the dark, the disturbing revelation intruded again.
She had no more battles to fight.
Since she’d realized she had the Delilah virus, all her energy had been focused on bolstering the Council and surviving long enough to see her people and territory protected. There was nothing else she could do now that wouldn’t take more time than she had.
All she had time to face was her own death.
As she considered that, over a thousand years of remarkable images pattered against her memory like a quiet summer rain. Rex, Thomas, her parents. The unnamed knight. Jun…So many come and gone. So much she’d seen and experienced. There were vampires here who had fought at her side during the territory wars, willing to kill to see Council rule instituted and enforced because they believed, as she did, that a harmonious balance with the human world would ensure the survival and prosperity of their species.
There’d been vampires, humans and others who captured her attention and remained in her memory because of an admirable action or a simple, witty remark that made an impression. She’d even been intimate with a handful or so of the vampires here, before Rex. Nothing that lasted, but nice memories. Tonight would be the last time she would see any of them. At least in this lifetime.
Such thoughts wafted like fog through her predusk doze and followed her into a deeper sleep where they became vivid dreams. So when Jacob woke her in the early eve ning to prepare for the Ball, it was perhaps no wonder she woke with a knot of anxiety in her lower stomach. She wondered if he sensed it, explaining why he watched her with such close concern as he helped her dress. He said little, dispensing his lingering caresses and quiet murmurs about mundane things that helped steady her nerves. When he finished helping her prepare her appearance, she told him she would go on to the Ball early. He could join her when he was dressed.
He simply nodded, brushing his lips alongside her throat as he made one last adjustment to her dress. “I’ll be there, my lady.”
Reaching up, she pressed her hand against the side of his cheek, holding him still against her neck a moment before she released him and moved quickly away before he could lift his head and she’d see his eyes in the mirror. His solitary reflection.
She sensed there was something going on in his head, but if she was too fragile to look into his eyes, she knew she was far too fragile to look into his mind.
So now she stood on an elevated platform where tables and chairs had been arranged so those not dancing could get a better view once the dancing started. Right now there were only monumental amounts of milling. Political positioning, seductive flirting, friendly acquaintances renewing ties …
As she stood there, the nostalgia she anticipated feeling gave way to that disquieting roil in her lower belly again, making for a stew of simmering emotions. She found herself wishing she’d waited for Jacob. She would have liked to feel the reassurance of his presence at her back.
What she really wanted was to be with someone with whom she had a connection. A connection achieved without effort, words or even thought. Who understood where her mind was right now. Jacob was that person, though she knew there was no logic to why she felt that way. He certainly wasn’t over a thousand years old. But when she was with him, she felt like he’d always been with her, through every step, every century.
Carnal was talking to a few of the type she’d seen too many of last night. Young, made vampire overlords impatient with things as they were, hungering for change just so they could feel important, a part of something. So much to learn, and yet they would burn down their school before the lessons could be taught. Such was the way of the world, and of youth.
If it were not Carnal standing with them, she supposed she would feel indulgent toward them instead of edgy, wary. She wondered if her uneasy feelings were like a grounded boat captain come to the edge of a river to watch the boats glide past. She’d once been a part of that flow, but those times had passed. The flow might change somewhat because of her absence, but it would still flow forward. She had to believe that. You are not God, my lady. Jacob had said that to her once or twice. Everything ended, even her.
“There you are.” Lady Daniela’s arm slipped through hers. “Everyone down there assumes you’re up here making your dance partner decision, examining us all like we’re insects under a microscope. I’ve never seen so many male vampires preening. Checking their ha
ir, their breath…the fit of their trousers.”
Perhaps Danny was the next best thing to Jacob. They’d met at a Gathering, Danny’s first. She’d gravitated toward Lyssa despite their differences in rank as if they were two inseparable schoolgirl friends, and Lyssa had surprised herself by welcoming it.
Lyssa smiled. “Male vampires are far too arrogant to be selfconscious. Even if they could see themselves in a mirror, they’d never use one.”
“Hmm…that’s the truth. That overlord from Florence needs a better servant. He’s needed to blow his nose for the past two days. Every time I talk to him I want to tell him he has a pea factory growing out of his nostrils.”
“Oh, gods, that’s far too graphic.” Lyssa covered an undignified snort of laughter with her hand.
“But so true.” Lady Daniela’s gaze shifted, stilled. Her eyes sparkled appreciatively. “However, on the brighter side, it looks to me there’s a human servant putting them all to shame this year. The male vampires are fair seething about it.”
Lyssa rolled her eyes. “Danny, if you don’t stop fawning over that cocky servant of yours, he’s going to be hopelessly spoiled.”
“Cocky is a way to describe Devlin, on several different levels. He’s one of a kind, the cheeky bastard. But …” Danny adjusted her stance, and with her arm through Lyssa’s, she forced her to turn toward one of the arched entranceways. “Not my servant, dearest. I’m talking about yours.”
She hadn’t known what Jacob was wearing tonight. After confirming early in their relationship he had the ability to attire himself appropriately without guidance, she’d found she liked being surprised by it, to enjoy the impact on her senses when he appeared.
He’d outdone himself.
The room was filled with vampire males who emanated otherworldly beauty. Some of it was glamour, but most was not. Generating glamour for humans was far easier than for other vampires, and for the most part, it wasn’t necessary. Whatever the genetic makeup of vampirism, it was disposed to making their species exceptionally attractive. Perhaps it was evolution, a helpful mechanism for attracting their prey. It was a reassuring indication they were somehow part of the natural world, not an exception to it as legend and nightmare folklore liked to depict.
Jacob was handsome; there was no denying that. But as she’d known from their first meeting, it was more than that. Put physical human beauty against a vampire’s and it could not compare. But his charisma, the quiet self-possession, the incredible intelligence and resourcefulness…the many talents he wielded, some of them unexpectedly dangerous and deadly, all somehow integrated into his physical appearance in a way devastating to the female senses. Put that in a tuxedo and Lyssa was sure she wasn’t the only woman in the room whose breath had caught in her throat.
He was tall enough to pull off the swallowtail coat he’d chosen. Perfectly pleated dark slacks, dress shoes that shone. Black studded shirt instead of white. He’d chosen a Nehru collar with a white satin ribbon edging that left his neck unencumbered by a tie. His hair, so often tousled at home because of his charming habit of raking his hands back through it as he worked, was brushed to a silk mane that feathered across his high forehead. The trim moustache and beard gleamed copper under the chandeliers, attracting her attention to his lips as it always did, the softness contrasting with the firm manner in which he held them.
She raised a brow at Daniela’s chuckle. “What?”
“Nothing.” Danny made an innocent face. “I just asked if you thought Lord Belizar might do karaoke for us tonight.”
Lyssa blinked. She experienced trepidation at being caught so baldly besotted until Daniela gave her a droll look, reminding her that Australian vampires were far more laid-back than their European and Eastern cousins. And that Danny was very young and irrepressible, by vampire standards. “You responded”—Danny cleared her throat and did a credible imitation of Lyssa’s manner— “ ‘Undoubtedly.’ ”
“My apologies, Lady Daniela.” Lyssa made the attempt. “My mind must have been on tonight’s Council Court. There will be many weighty affairs discussed.”
Danny shot her a look. “Undoubtedly, my lady.”
Even as Lyssa elbowed her with a smile, her gaze was pulled back to Jacob.
As if she needed another reason to be captivated by him, he’d found her instantly and waited until she met his gaze to proceed into the room. While every servant in the room had a link with a Mistress or Master, he acknowledged her visibly, first and foremost, and waited for her attention to proceed, to be sure she knew he was there, available to her needs. She had the impression of it like the heat of his body curled at her back while she slept.
Now, glancing at her often, he moved through the milling group with one hand at his back, the other loose at his side. A comfortable pose that allowed him to bow cordially as he made the appropriate level of greeting to each person. His gift for recall of names and status was impeccable. When he encountered Devlin, his teeth flashed in a grin at whatever the man said, showing he’d already developed a comfortable male rapport with the Australian. That smile almost made her forget herself and curl her toes in her open sandals.
She thought of him the previous night, the way he’d closed his hand over hers on the brand at his hip. When she’d taken him back to their room, she’d feathered her lips over it more than once, teasing his cock with the fine line of her cheek before she’d ridden him to climax.
Rex had tried to control and dominate her, but in the end he’d had no ability to do so because she never trusted him enough to let him into her soul. Now she’d put her heart and soul as well as her physical well-being into the hands of a mere human. And she’d never felt safer in her life.
Around him, the ballroom somehow became fantastical with its array of characters. He was surrounded by things that were temporal, no longer her reality, but there he was in the middle of it. The soul who had bound himself to her, even through death. The lights of the chandelier sent out rays that sparkled in her vision.
It occurred to her that he, Bran and Mr. Ingram had become the most real things in her life these last couple of months. She wanted to experience only what was real from now on. She had no patience for anything else. Why had she even come here? The reason seemed to escape her.
She turned abruptly, thinking to leave. Registering the startled look on Daniela’s face, she had no chance to make a vague excuse, for Lord Uthe stepped onto the platform. He reached out a hand to her as if he thought she’d turned at his approach. Apparently Danny came to the same conclusion, because her puzzled expression vanished and she respectfully withdrew.
“It’s nearly nine, my lady. Are you ready?”
The dance. The male vampires checking their hair and the fit of their trousers. An unwelcome palm hot against her waist, a male body too close. His eyes speculating on thoughts so far away from who she was, had been. What she wanted.
Lyssa made herself rest her hand in Uthe’s, her lips pressed together to keep from screaming. That roiling feeling suddenly expanded exponentially. She didn’t have stage fright, didn’t even know what this was. It wasn’t the virus. That was the only reassurance she could give herself, for suddenly her throat was so tight she could barely speak.
Uthe brought her to the edge of the platform and commanded the attention of the large room with a raised hand, projecting his voice as the ballroom quieted. The lights closed in on her, his voice setting off a headache.
“My lady. As our revered queen, we always ask that you lead off the first dance of the Ball. Will you honor us and one fortunate gentleman? That is, unless you’ve changed your preferences this year and wish to choose a lady?”
There was some laughter, but the male vampires who thought they might be eligible were a palpable energy in the large room. Feeling it, those assembled quieted further with hushed expectancy. The candlelit chandeliers were lowered, other light sources dimming to give the main floor and herself the focus. She well understood the perceived significanc
e of this moment. Back in Atlanta, in the far more casual atmosphere of her study, she and Jacob had reviewed a short list of candidates critically. Brian had been the easy choice. It would be clear she was honoring him for his scientific advances on behalf of their species, but no one would surmise that she had anything but respect for the far more lower-ranking vampire and his well-known father.
The last time she’d been here, she’d been with Rex and Thomas. Her monk had stood in the shadows, the lights reflecting off his spectacles. Now Rex was dead, killed by her hand. Thomas had died alone in a monastery.
No, not alone. Jacob had been with him.
The first time she’d danced with Rex here, he’d been pleased with the prestige of the honor, but more than that, he’d wanted her. He’d believed in the Council she’d built. He’d fought at her side. He hadn’t been a kind man, but he’d been a strong leader, a man to respect. And he had loved her. Until he lost his mind.
The lights were dim, but they still hurt her eyes. She wanted utter darkness. Her eyes were burning, trying to fill with mortifying tears.
“My lady,” Lord Uthe said gently. She turned a desperate glance toward him. “We are on par, you and I,” he said. “I have no motives or designs upon you. If it would be easier this first time since your husband’s death, I will be happy to …”
He let it drift off, a courtesy.
No. Never in her many centuries of life had she allowed her control to slip voluntarily. Though it was a savage internal struggle, one during which her mind told her she would be wise to take Uthe’s offer, she shook her head. She did manage to reach out and clasp his hand in an offering of thanks for his kindness. Then she was moving off the platform, toward the center of the floor where a circle had been opened to allow her room for her dance.
She went to the center of it and let her gaze travel over the arrayed faces as the second hand on the ornate clock over the orchestra reached a minute before nine. Whoever she was looking at when that final ninth chime tolled was her chosen partner. He would come to her, meet her on the floor. De cades before, it was the decisive move that confirmed to all she intended to accept Rex as her husband.
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