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"What--"
He saw a flash of her blue eye under a fall of silky blonde hair, and then the gleam of her fangs. He let out an oath as they stabbed into his inner thigh, making him arch up in reaction as she locked onto the femoral there. He felt the rush of blood, a result of his still-racing heart. Yet his reaction wasn't fear. Instead, he put his hand back on her head, fingers twining in her hair as he settled, widened his thighs to make sure she had the room she needed to feed. She had one hand clasped around his thigh above the knee, the other sliding up to hold his cock and balls, knead and stroke. She was right about the second mark, because instead of softening as his cock usually did right after a climax, it stayed semi-hard, as if proving it would take half the time to get ready for her again.
I could kill you like this, Quinn. Simply keep drinking until you died from loss of blood. It would take longer, with the second mark, but it doesn't protect you from that.
Not the way the third mark will, hmm? He stroked her hair as he breathed deep, slowing his racing heart. She didn't respond, just focused on her meal. When she was done, she licked him as she usually did, which he was beginning to realize was some way of coagulating the blood, because whenever she raised her head, the meal done, the wound wouldn't run like a cut from ranch work would. Unless she wanted to see that flow of blood, that is.
"Enough?" he rumbled, tracing her cheek, her lips. Her gaze was fastened on him in that way that told him nothing of what she was thinking. Could be good, could be bad. He'd wait and see, and deal with whatever came.
"I don't think the problem's going to be me being okay with a stronger vampire taking a taste of me," he said casually. "You seem to get rowdy about it faster than me."
"I expect that had to do with a pretty girl grabbing you instead of a man." She left the floorboards, surprising him when she coiled in his lap, her legs over the console, feet in the driver's seat. He shifted to tuck her head beneath his chin, closed his arms around her. Selene wasn't really the cradling-in-the-lap type, but he didn't mind the change of pace.
"Makes you feel manly, does it?"
"It does at that." He brushed his lips over her forehead. "You okay, honey?"
"Yeah." She sighed, irritable. "Goddamn impulse issues. I never had a problem before. At least not one I noticed."
"Maybe it's the first time since you became a vampire you've found someone you really want to be with. So it's kind of like a teenager with his first love, setting off a whole new set of hormones. All part of 'growing up', vampire style."
She tilted back her head, eying him. "I know I'm not giving you my thoughts, so it's uncanny how you're picking up on them."
"I'm just glad you have a sense of humor about it. It shouldn't upset you, you know. If some guy had grabbed your ass in there, I would have put him through a wall and then followed him out to kick him across the parking lot."
She gave a half-chuckle, an encouraging sound. Though she wasn't letting him in to see what was happening in her head, he had a feeling she was pretty pissed at herself about it. It was still vibrating off her skin. She'd just taken a lot of the mad-with-herself part of it out through violent sex with him. Which worked great as a mutually beneficial solution, all in all.
Another half-chuckle. "Men. So easy. Do you care about nothing else?"
"I'm just glad we drove into the city for dinner. Else the scuttlebutt at the Nightfall post office would go something along the lines of..." He affected a gossipy old woman's tone, exaggerating his Texas drawl. "'Did you know Quinn was getting it on with that hot new bar manager behind the all-night diner, his pants to his knees and everything hanging out for God to see?'"
"And let me tell you, God has blessed that boy," she responded in the same affected voice, reaching down to close her hand over God's blessings, which was getting more proud about it, especially as she started to stroke and squeeze. He closed his eyes, trying to keep it under control, but a little bite of her nails had him meeting her gaze.
"You keep it under control when I say, Quinn. If I want to make you come in my hand right now, you will. Remember? Who controls your climax?"
He studied her face, the beauty of it, the complicated layers in her eyes, her expression, and suddenly felt his heart twist. What if she didn't give him the third mark? What if she disappeared from his life?
"You, Mistress. Only you. Now and always. All right?" He framed her face, putting his desire, his demand in the touch, his voice. Maybe she'd prefer it to be more of a plea, but he wasn't built that way and he was banking on how she liked that side of him. He hoped so, because he wasn't seeing it changing this century.
"A third mark lives to be three hundred, on average," she said, turning her face to slide her lips over his palm. The tip of her tongue traced the crevice between two fingers, and then she sucked on his middle finger, biting it gently before she straightened. She pulled up the straps of her dress, though she kept him the way he was, jeans down, her bare pussy pressed against his genitals. "The only thing that kills you, other than my death, is some kind of catastrophic dismemberment, like beheading, which basically kills everything, or steel through the heart."
"So for vampires, it's a wooden stake. For a servant, steel? That's peculiar."
She shrugged. There are many things about the relationship between vampire and servant that defy explanation. "For instance, when a human is given a third mark, a mark will appear somewhere on your body, usually something symbolic that represents the relationship between the two. We don't direct or impose that. It just happens." Her gaze shadowed. "I expect centuries ago, it would have been called the Devil's mark."
"Or maybe it's another symbol of 'what God has brought together, let no man rend asunder'."
Her gaze lifted to him. "Oh Quinn. What am I going to do with you?"
"Well, what you just did is great. But you know what I want. And..." He twined his fingers around a lock of her hair, thinking how it always felt softer and silkier than anything she wore, and she wore plenty of soft, pretty things, "I wouldn't be pushing it so hard if I didn't have the feeling you want it too."
"As we've seen, what I want may not always be well thought out. Maybe in a hundred years..."
"In a hundred years, I'll be dead. Maybe it's the same no matter when you meet a human servant. Maybe whether the vampire's sixty or three hundred, the two people involved just know."
Her gaze shuttered again, her mouth tightening, which told him more than he expected she wanted him to know.
"You've been told it's like that, haven't you?" he asked.
"Yes. But that's not the po
int." She held up a hand. "Enough. Seriously, Quinn. Stop." She took a breath. "You're not to bring up this subject in any way. Subtly, metaphorically, directly, until I'm ready to discuss it again. Understood?"
It was a pretty damn important topic to him, but he could tell by the set of her jaw she meant it. He nodded, then at her look, he added, "Yes ma'am." Though he gave her a bit of that drawl, a glint to his eye, that had her narrowing her gaze in return.
"We're not going to see one another this week," she decided. "I'll come to you then, after I've had time to think about this on my own. No jerking off, no wet dreams, so you better calm yourself before you sleep, cowboy. You won't talk to me unless I reach out to talk to you during that time. Got it?"
Fucking hell. He couldn't imagine going a few hours without her, let alone a full week. "Yeah. Ow, Jesus." He jumped when she reached down between them, pinched his cock hard enough he figured she'd transformed her fingers to pincers. "Dammit, woman..."
"When I come to you Sunday, you better be prepared to take that strap-on we've been talking about." Leaning forward, she spoke against his mouth, her fingers curling around his throat, constricting just enough to let him feel the reduced air flow. "I'll put you through your paces, see if you truly do have what it takes to be my servant. Up until now, I've been holding back with you. You need to think on that."
All he could think about now was that strap-on, and how he was going to get through the week with that running through his head. She cocked a brow. "Perhaps before I decide on giving you a third mark, I'll brand you with one of your irons, give you a mark that's all my creation. Can you stand still while I do that to you, Quinn?"
In her eyes, he could tell putting red-hot metal to sizzling against his flesh was more than a teasing threat. She meant it. The crazy thing was the idea, as unnerving as it was, got a leap of response from his heart and his cock. She must have felt both, for her lips did that tightening thing again, as if she was restraining her own reaction.
"There will be no way to prepare for what I demand of you, Quinn. You must open up your will and be entirely mine. You understand?"
