“Why did you have those? The razor nails.”
“I like cutting,” she said. “I like the way certain types of men react to it.” Though it hadn't done squat for her against three vampires. He didn't have to fill that one in, because it hung in the air, another gargoyle hovering. Breaking eye contact with him, she pumped fragrant soap into her hands, massaging it between her palms until lather started to accumulate between them. She started at her neck. The water combined with the lather to send cascades of cream sliding down her breasts.
Taking up a washcloth, she began to clean herself thoroughly.
Her intent might have been to take them out of the troublesome waters of their respective thoughts. If so, she was damn successful. She spent time on every inch of skin he'd like to touch, and lingered on the places he'd linger on. Lifting her breasts, tossing her hair back so it was a shiny cascade, a sable waterfall, she soaped the generous curves, pinched her nipples, and then arrowed her hands down over her abdomen, taking away blood, sputum, everything except beautiful woman. Down, down, until she reached her pussy, and began to soap herself there, slow, massaging circles that had her leaning up against the side of the shower, her legs parting to give her better access.
“Don't move.” Gideon froze. He'd intended to shift, adjust himself because his jeans were getting uncomfortable. She hadn't even looked at him, as far as he knew. While her mind could have anticipated him, from what he'd seen of her skills in this area, it was entirely possible the Mistress had anticipated him. “I want that handsome cock of yours kinked up, aching for freedom. You remember the bathing chamber where I had you chained?” At his short nod, her gaze glinted. “I've brought deserving slaves in there before, bound them, washed them myself, inside and out, then made them watch as you are watching. One of them couldn't contain himself. He came while watching me, because of the vibrating probe I'd put in his ass. Because he got his semen on my skin, I put him in a cock-and-ball harness with prongs and made him come that way, an excruciating mixture of pleasure and pain. He never forgot it.”
“But you haven't brought them down here.”
She met his gaze. “Why would I have a dungeon down here if I didn't intend to bring my favorites to it, keep them as my prisoner as long as I wish?”
The answers to it, the truth, were already in her mind, amid a teasing whorl of heat. He'd said he wouldn't look if he could help it, but it was easier said than done, not to look at a landscape directly in front of his mind's gaze. Never. She'd never had a submissive down here. She'd been too busy getting the business running to have time for personal relationships, and then she'd met Daegan.
She held his gaze. Though he saw mild reproof in her expression, she'd apparently realized this was a game of quid pro quo. “When you saw me walk into the Queen's Chamber, what did you want from me, Gideon?”
He couldn't have said it to her now or before, but his mind did, without hesitation.Surrender, pain.
Release. Acceptance.
19
“EVERY mind has shields,cher . As the serum goes in, your mind will open his. Do it firmly, don't stop, but move forward slow. Give his shields time to lie down before you, rather than ramming through them.
It's a seduction, not a rape. He will still likely convulse, as if he is about to seize, but that is just the physical reaction, one he cannot control. Just keep going, and then speak to him. Calm him from within his mind.”
During the second marking, Daegan had spoken to her, walked her through it. She could tell Gideon had tuned out everything but the action, so she wasn't sure he'd heard the dialogue. When he'd reacted with such startled resistance, she'd known he hadn't.
Still fighting her reservations about what they'd done to him, she'd promised herself she wouldn't read his mind if she could help it. Hell, a few seconds ago, she'd made the same promise to him. Now the pleasure of being a Mistress, of plumbing the depths of a submissive's needs, had opened up to a new level for her, in this one particularly fascinating male. His rapid laundry list softened her, made her hold out the shampoo. “Do my hair.”
He rose. She hadn't said to get undressed, so he didn't. He stepped into the shower in his jeans and boots, an automatic obedience she liked. Leaning back into him, she let him support her weight as he poured the shampoo into her scalp, set the bottle aside. His hands were strong and massaging, caring and needing at once.
He'd taken off her chains, looked her in the eye and told her she would stay in control. She knew it was an illusion, but he surrounded her with something, a sense of stability. He belonged to her. And he'd been willing to belong to her, never mind how it had actually occurred or when he would eventually change his mind. Despite the strange, awful things happening to her, this wasn't a bad moment, particularly when he smoothed his palm over her forehead so she laid her head back on his shoulder. When he dropped a kiss on her skin, she absorbed the texture of his mouth, the hint of moist heat. His strong, hard body supporting her, not a soft spot anywhere.
She couldn't begin to itemize the ways her body felt changed, let alone her mind, her instincts . . .everything. Even her automatic reactions as a Mistress had a new, additional quality to them. Something more feral and demanding, something frighteningly indifferent to limitations, boundaries. She was able to do anything she wished, to anyone weaker than herself. That was the way of the beast.
No. That was Barnabus's way, the way of a creature that had been twisted into a sociopath. Even wild animals did not prey on the weak maliciously. It alarmed her, to think that those shadow creatures might be clever enough to cloak themselves in her own thoughts and instincts.
“You may want to close your eyes while I rinse your hair.” His voice was a steadying rumble behind her ear. “Vampire invincibility or not, I expect shampoo still stings if it gets in your eyes.” Anwyn turned in his arms, closing her eyes so he could do that. As he did, she threaded her fingers in his chest hair, moving close enough that she could press herself against wet denim. She registered the integration of bone and muscle, his hot, sweet blood beneath firm skin. The indentations of old scars, proof of his battles.
Battles with what she now was. She didn't let that thought snag her, though, because he was here now.
“I want to dance,” she murmured.
“Here?” He was vaguely amused and very aroused, and she savored both. As he rinsed her, her hair was so long he couldn't help but follow the curve of her back to the rise of her buttocks. When wet, the locks caressed her hips. He was trying hard, in a touchingly chivalrous manner, not to take advantage, but she saw all the wonderful things in his mind he'd like to do. It goaded her own desires.
“No. After we finish. I know the song I want. It's slow and beautiful, and talks about how wonderful and terrible love is.”
“You're going to make me dance with you, aren't you?”
Marveling at how much she wanted his closeness, she laid her head on his chest in an uncharacteristic move, letting his arms come around her. There was someone else she wanted close as well, but she pushed that away.
She knew Daegan cared for her, considered her his territory in that overbearing yet appealing way of the extreme alpha male. But would he have done as Gideon had done, gone against everything he was, sacrificed for her well-being? They were thoughts she couldn't shake, even as she despised herself for such pettiness and possible hypocrisy. Was she capable of denying her Dominant instincts any more than Daegan?
Daeganhad denied himself for five years, she reminded herself. Refused to make her his servant when it was something he'd obviously desired. It increased her self-loathing, recalling what she'd done earlier when Gideon was still unconscious.
In the aftermath of her seizure, as she'd slowly drifted toward unconsciousness, Daegan had briefly left her to check on Gideon. When he returned, before his hand touched her, she'd flinched away from him.
Rather than pressing the issue, there'd been a weighted silence. Her eyes had been closed, her arms curved protectively over her body, a tension in her shoulders that didn't ease, not even when she realized he'd withdrawn, gone back to her new servant.
She'd realized the horrible truth. What had made her flinch was his scent. Not his unique smell, but the species itself. Vampire. Whereas she didn't fear Gideon, didn't find any monsters in him, Daegan was connected with her fear and apprehension of what she was now. The part she felt he'd played in it.
Being intuitive, he'd felt her revulsion, and she knew that was why he'd withdrawn. He wouldn't have if it was just the festering issues between them. He'd given her Gideon to help her where he couldn't. It made her heart and head hurt.
While Gideon had been amazed at how well she had handled herself so far, she knew there was a whole cauldron of post-traumatic breakdown waiting for her once she got a handle on all of it. But she couldn't summon the energy for any of it. Not right now. She had all she could handle. She'd deal with it soon.
No matter how shameful it made her feel, she knew Daegan could take it. She needed something else right this minute, and she was going to take it.
What was it about a hard-muscled man, with battle scars and a 100 percent trouble, devil-glint in his eye, that she found so irresistible? He was rubbing soap on her back now, his hands practically screaming their desire to mold over her ass. It wasn't natural to him to wait for permission, but he was trying. Probably not because of any desire to win the Sub-of-the-Month award, but because he was in her mind now. He knew how close to boiling that cauldron was, and he wouldn't want to take anything from her she didn't want to give.
Even so, he wasn't the type to beg for the right to kiss the sole of her shoe. He was the quivering mastiff at her knee, fangs ready, waiting for the command to leap forward with a powerful ripple of muscle. Only she was in the mood for a different type of attack.
If she wanted rough sex, she'd have it, and enjoy the hell out of it, would refuse to let it be dragged down to the level of what happened in the alley.My first official command, Gideon. Take me as you want. Ignore everything that may or may not have happened these past few hours. Do it, now.