Bound by the Vampire Queen (Vampire Queen #8)

Lyssa raked her nails down Jacob's chest as the sensation built. The siren was undulating hard against his back, responding enthusiastical y to what the angel was doing to her, which felt like a great deal of powerful thrusting.

It was spiritual, visceral, primal, everything. She was lost in it, spinning almost like she'd been during the dance. Raphael's gaze was on her face, those solid black eyes like gemstones as he tipped her head back. “There is nothing to fear,” he said.

“You've always known that. Endings always come back to beginnings, and you will always find the one you need there.”

The siren and angel behind Jacob shifted away, so now he pul ed out of her and dropped under the waterline. Clasping her white thighs, he found the treasure of her heat once again. She was convulsing on the emptiness as if his cock was stil there, but he could feel the reverberation of Raphael stroking into her ass as Jacob suckled her clit in his mouth, made it more prominent, her thighs trembling under his hands.

She thrashed, but in pleasure, and he held on, using his strength to take her even higher. He could tel Raphael was doing the same, holding her biceps so that they were essential y restraining her, but not in a way that reminded her of Arrdol or Carnal, the source of her dark nightmares. In her mind he saw she was immersed in the pleasure they were giving her. She'd discarded those fears and reached out to embrace that magnificent well of inner strength he'd never known to fail her. No fear would rule her pleasure, her happiness. Her savoring of every moment. Not his Mistress.

He teased her clit, plunged his tongue inside of her, until he knew she was hovering on that edge, then he pul ed out and sank his fangs into her thigh, tasting the rich femoral blood. It nearly pushed her over, only the pain balancing her on that precipice.

On such a magical night, in a world where the exercise of magic was celebrated, it shouldn't have surprised him that along with unleashing her desire, loosening her hold on her fears, she also let her own special talents out to play. When he broke the surface of the water, he felt the power emanating from her, saw it sparking along her white skin. The

lotus blossoms and water lilies now had company.

Roses as large as his lady's hand had appeared on empty pads or joined the water lilies, making clusters of two to three blooms, in deep pinks, traditional rose, and all shades in between. He saw Raphael smile as his lady's magic expanded into a shower of rose petals, fluttering through the air like a gentle rain. They caught in the angel's wings and landed in the water, becoming spinning smal boats for the delighted firefly Fae. More roses were climbing the banks as well , twining along the will ow trunks, the air fil ing with their fragrance.

Jacob slid back into her again, moving in close so he and Raphael could synchronize their movements.

She kissed Jacob, her mouth eager and hot, and he clasped her skul , tangling his fingers in her hair. He thrust back into her hard, into that tight channel made even more constricted by Raphael's presence. She moaned at the sensation, her legs locking hard on his hips.

“Come for us now, my lady. Share your magic with us.”

Her jade eyes opened to stare into his, the pupil expanding to take over the green as he and Raphael stroked her, a relentless rhythm, no pause in the sensation and arousal. Raphael had spread his wings again, so that he provided an additional force and source of control to create an excruciating rhythm for them all. Even as that climax began to grip them, Jacob both despaired and delighted at that Mistress glint in her eyes.

Not . . . until . . . I . . . go.

He shook his head, acknowledging her. He always obeyed such a command, but fuck, the tightening of her muscles on him, on them both, made it difficult.

Then Raphael pushed the issue by releasing, giving her that searing explosion of sensation along all the sensitive nerve endings in her rectum. She clamped down on Jacob like a vise, rubbing slick muscle against him, pumping hard, fast. The smel of roses grew stronger, and the blooms pressed against his body.

She gave a long, fierce, triumphant cry, like a warrior queen throwing out a chal enge as she embraced the pleasure, let go of the fear, of whatever might have plagued her. She defied it and fully embraced that magical energy to find renewal in his arms. The arms of her soul mate, her beloved.

They were fragments of feelings, so strong they became disjointed thoughts, but he caught each one as treasure. When her eyes met his, her lips trembling on the consent, he gave her his seed, releasing hard and strong. He held nothing back as well , both of them trusting an angel's wings to keep them steady and on course as the wildness took them.

When they all slowly came down, Lyssa rested her head on Jacob's shoulder, making a quiet murmur as Raphael withdrew from her. He wrapped a wing around them, gave both a kiss, though Lyssa noticed he kissed Jacob on the forehead while he tipped up her chin for a lingering, memorable kiss on the lips.

Breaking the contact, the angel gave Jacob a broad wink and Lyssa a smile before he retreated.

The other angels were preparing to leave, their pleasure sated as well. When Raphael moved in that direction, he bestowed similarly appreciative kisses on the several sirens who stopped him for that purpose. He was an obvious favorite with them.

Generously, he didn't cut short a single embrace, and was lavish with his skil ed caresses.

Though it amused Lyssa, she sensed the sirens were drawn to the same thing that had led her and Jacob to trust him for the remarkable interlude.

There was a healing power not only in his touch, but his very presence. The flashes of gentle humor in his expression didn't make light of the world. Instead they conveyed he knew how very terrible the world could be. The weapons they picked up off the bank looked entirely too well used, including the spear and sword he hefted for himself. A spear that could return like a boomerang . . .

Watching him, she realized that, for Raphael, there were no significant wal s between Fae, vampire or humans. This being was top of the food chain, but he accepted all life as precious and natural. Feeling that emanation as he joined them in shared sensual pleasure offered the hope that other powerful beings, such as Fae and vampire, could reach the same point.

Despite the darkness of the world surely an angel would know, he'd obviously preserved a well of joy in himself. Tonight he'd shared a glimpse of that with Lyssa, giving her a sense of perspective she'd been lacking. Jacob bent, kissed her hand, holding it in wet fingers, giving her the warmth of his mouth and his feelings, responding to hers.

Raphael donned his kilt when they drew closer to the bank, and now he sketched a bow in their direction. “Thank you, my lady.” He nodded at all the roses. While the gnomes were carting some off in their wheelbarrows, the sirens were gathering them up, putting them in their hair. The firefly Fae spun with the petals, holding them over their heads like umbrel a coverings. “For what you have given us tonight, I would grant you a favor of your choosing.” At his words, the other angels turned. The not-so-dormant power that pulsed around them was unnerving, a reminder that they saw the world from an entirely different view—the heavens.

“You are the one who gave me a gift tonight, my lord.” Despite being naked, Lyssa knelt in the shal ows. It was the first time Jacob had ever seen her do that, but she did it with grace and obvious reverence. “It is more than enough,” she added.

“It was an equal exchange. No argument. Give me the wish of your heart.”

She looked at Jacob, and he tightened his hand on hers, in perfect accord. In fact, Jacob was sure Raphael anticipated them, because his gaze had softened in approval before she spoke.

“Kane,” she said. “No matter what happens to us, please protect him. Watch over him.”

Raphael glanced at the assembled males behind him, arrayed in a variety of lethal weaponry. He met the gaze of the angel who seemed to be at the front of the phalanx. Serious dark eyes flickered, his chin dipping in a slight nod. “Done,” Raphael said. “We will protect your child, Lady Lyssa. Have no fear of that.”

Then, with one more of those smiles that seemed capable of making the worst nightmares into a distant memory, he was aloft, the others joining him.

As they winged up high and fast into the sky, the sirens lifted their hands in farewel . They laughed as an angel with brown feathers swooped down to steal one last kiss, a lingering touch. As he rejoined the group, there was a flash of blue sparks, and they were gone.

Once they were dry, Jacob and Lyssa donned their clothes and left the lagoon. They strol ed hand in hand, quiet in one another's minds. After a time, Lyssa moved in closer, slid her arms around Jacob's waist. He wrapped his around her shoulders, holding her as they walked that way, viewing the various wondrous magical sights that crossed their path during the long night. It was Lyssa who final y sensed that dawn would be approaching soon, turning their feet back to the castle.

Wel before they emerged from the forest, they heard the drumbeat. A primal melody, reverberating through the ground. The many celebratory circles in the forest were gone, the smel of extinguished bonfires lingering. As they came out of the forest, they saw a great gathering covering the slopes leading up to Caislean Uisce and Caislean Talamh.

“This must be Ending Ritual,” Lyssa murmured. “I didn't think to ask, because I thought it was what happened at the cemetery. But with dawn approaching, this makes more sense.”

Jacob nodded. They moved along the outskirts of the gathered assembly to find a better view of what was happening in that val ey between the two castles. When they reached a copse of trees, Jacob helped her up into the crook of one and then leaned against it beside her, his greater height giving him the same view.

In the center of an open circle, a large stone tablet had been erected. Thirteen cloaked Fae, six men and seven women, were grouped around it. They were hooded, their faces hidden, though Lyssa saw pale hands gesturing in graceful cohesion as they chanted along with the drums. The drums and distance would have muted the sound, except the front rows of watching Fae had picked up the chant and it was sweeping through the ful crowd, the volume of voices and drumbeats growing. The power of it moved through the tree, vibrating in her chest. While she picked up pieces of the language, it was not enough to give the sense of the ritual.