Rhoswen was her ice counterpart, the vivid blue eyes molten and white hair touched with a gleam in the firelight. She wore a filmy bit of white silk that hugged her hips and draped low on her breasts, showing her nipples through the cloth, the long lines of her thighs. A cluster of fragrant flowers like tiny gardenias

  were

  caught

  in

  her

  long

  hair.

  Unlike Rhoswen’s plunging neckline, Lyssa’s was high on the throat, so it made the tight, revealing fit of the lace over her breasts even more noticeable, the nipples impossible for a man to ignore. Her feet were bare, as were Rhoswen’s.

  Rhoswen’s outfit made her appear softer, more feminine, and so the whole picture was disarming, which made Jacob even more on his guard. What appeared to be bees were hovering around the flowers in Rhoswen’s hair, more of the tiny insect Fae. While others might fear her wrath, apparently the smal est of her subjects felt comfortable being in her chambers.

  Stil , that tea set and dol bothered him.

  Rhoswen nodded to Lyssa genial y enough, gesturing her to the chair with the dol . Those tempting legs crossed as she turned her attention to Jacob. Starting at his feet, she worked her way up, inch by inch. As she covered the terrain, her lips parted, moistening. He was far too aroused to ignore the fact the pink frosted gloss on them made them al the more mesmerizing. He could imagine a wide variety of crude, wicked things she could do for him with those lips. She made it worse by becoming more stimulated during her appraisal.

  Her nipples drew tighter before his gaze, thighs sliding in a restless shift, a tel ing arousal. Her musk was flavored with those flowers, but his vampire senses knew female readiness, no matter the species or scent.

  Lyssa took a seat, picking up the dol and setting her on the table next to the tea set. Rhoswen nodded to the stone archway. “Put yourself there, vampire.

  And take your time. I’d like to see you walk.” Walking fast with ice shoved up one’s ass wasn’t real y possible, so he could accommodate that. But that erection was going to kil him, the heat and cold making every step pleasure and torment both. As she drank it in, he sensed his lady doing the same.

  No matter the situation, Lyssa’s natural sensuality would kick in to enjoy him to the ful est. He could resist it al he wished, but he knew it was one of the things that kept him hard so often.

  Rhoswen purred, no other word for it. “I’m going to love taking my pleasure of that, vampire or not. How do you ever let him get any rest?”

  “Who says I do?” Lyssa returned, and won the queen’s tight smile.

  When he reached the archway, he saw imprints in the floor to place his feet. He figured he must be getting more used to the magic of the Fae world, for he barely flinched when talons emerged from the floor and circled his ankles above the ice manacles, though he bit back an oath as those talons pierced his skin, drawing blood. His wrist manacles released, but it was a temporary reprieve. Rhoswen gestured above his head. “There.”

  He glanced up, saw the hook. Shifting his attention to Lyssa, he waited for her nod before he lifted his arms. The hook distorted and split, becoming a two-headed silver snake that slithered down over his arms, holding him fast. It delivered a menacing hiss inches from his face before melding back into inanimate silver, tightening so his body was stretched taut between the frame above and the ankle restraints below. He felt the pul in his back and shoulder muscles, the thighs and groin. And particularly in the nipple area, that excruciating stimulation.

  “A nice display.” Rhoswen nodded to the tea set then. “Can I interest you in a cup of tea, Lady Lyssa?”

  “My Irish servant has told me it’s not wise to eat or drink of Fae fare. That it can bind you here forever, or make you forget things you don’t wish to forget.”

  “That applies to humans, not to vampires and part Fae.” Rhoswen shrugged. “And most human minds are fil ed with things they’d like to forget, or that are already so forgettable, our magic is almost unnecessary to drive it entirely from their minds.”

  “Hmm” was Lyssa’s only comment. “What kind of tea?”

  “It’s from the honey of a flower here cal ed a lilania.

  It ensures one’s pleasure is endless, because after every climax, your stamina and desire are doubled. If we drank enough of it, and if he was human, we could literal y couple with your servant until he died.

  We had a mortal steal some of it once, a long time ago. Not only did he rut on his female until he kil ed her, he devoured her afterward. Literal y. A cautionary tale to humans, that Fae magic is dangerous to play with, and that our worlds should not cross paths.”

  “Yet there was a time they did, quite often.”

  “Yes. And the tragedies far outweighed anything else.” Rhoswen extended the tea. “You said you wished to share your servant with me. Wil you al ow me to enhance that experience, Lyssa?”

  “And it is the only thing this tea does, enhances sexual pleasure?”

  “It is. You have my word.”

  Two women, completely comfortable with having a naked, aroused and restrained man awaiting their pleasure, overhearing how they intended to push him far beyond his limits. To al appearances, they were both indifferent to his reaction to that, though Jacob knew his lady was quite conscious of how the erotic apprehension would keep him in an excruciating state of want. He bit back another painful grunt. God, even at vampire hands, he’d never experienced an agony quite like this.

  He wasn’t sure if he could bear it, but that choice was beyond his grasp. In reaction to the tangle of physical and emotional strain, his hands quivered in the restraints. The shudder that started there rippled out through his body, despite his efforts to quel it. The movement caught their attention. When they turned toward him, tracking him with twin focus, they were perfectly synchronized.

  Their body language, the tilt of their heads, the shape of their mouths—they were an unimistakable mirror of one another. For a moment, it was so unlikely he doubted himself. But then, replaying it in his mind, he was sure.

  My lady . . . you share blood. You can see the family resemblance.

  An aunt? Grandmother? It was impossible to tel Rhoswen’s age, just as it was impossible to tel Lyssa’s, unless one got lost in her jade eyes. Then the centuries of wisdom swept over one like a wave, awe-inspiring or deeply terrifying, depending on what mood she wanted to project.

  This was one of the instances where that wisdom proved itself. Not by a twitch did she betray a reaction, and he knew she’d heard him. Releasing a thought inside her head had an intimacy to it, like touching her inner thigh, that silken skin sliding beneath his fingers as she opened herself to him.

  Holy Mother of Christ, he needed to stay away from analogies like that, though it was kind of difficult to do so. Especial y with him prepared like this, and the two of them looking so incredibly fuckable. Each incremental hardening of his cock inside that enchantment of ice and heat wrenched a higher pain and a more blatant level of lust out of him.

  Lyssa sipped her tea, pressing her lips together over the taste. “Like lemon,” she said. “A very mel ow form of it. With a touch of vanil a.”

  “Yes,” Rhoswen said. The Fae queen sat back in the throne. Whether or not she truly was, she appeared far more relaxed than she’d been in her great hal . “I’ve had some of your foods, you know.

  Chocolate.”

  “And what did you think?”

  “That your foods and liquids are far more likely than ours to lead to dangerous, forgetful bliss. Our younger Fae can’t resist your Starbucks.”

  “Their hot chocolate is ambrosia of the gods.” Lyssa put down the tea. “You sound indulgent with them. Yet you locked Catriona in a tree for twenty years. Was the lesson for her, truly, or was it for Keldwyn?”

  Her tone was merely curious. Showing the effects of the tea, she let her gaze wander over Jacob, lingering in places that made her moisten her lips and made him stifle another groan of need.

  “Both,” Rhoswen said, watching her. “Too many of our young Fae are overly curious about the human world. I control the gateways, but youth can be clever and foolish at once. One tragic, horrifying example such as hers helped reinforce the gates better than a hundred enchantments. There have been far fewer infractions since.” Rhoswen put down her cup as wel . “She was a lovely girl. It was regrettable, but necessary.”

  “The vampire world has lived in the shadows of the human one for a very long time. Why can’t the Fae?”

  “I think you already know the answer to that question.” Rhoswen gestured to the open window, past Jacob’s stretched form. She directed Lyssa’s attention to the Castle of Fire, the green rol ing hil s beyond, a dragon soaring through the sky against the yel ow moon. “How does al this fit into your concrete world? The earth, the source of magic and life, is desecrated with your asphalt and garbage, your greed and fear. You drown out everything but your own voices with your ceaseless noise. What kind of queen would I be if I threw open the gates, let youthful foolishness like Catriona’s destroy the next generations of our Fae in that cacophony? Free wil is earned, not by simple existence, but by maturity, wisdom.”

  “That sounds quite sensible,” Lyssa noted. “But even if you are the wisest queen in the world, eventual y the throne must pass to someone else.

  And what if the next one isn’t so wise? What if it is someone who uses the restriction of free wil not to teach and protect, but to increase their own power and abuse it? It’s a very delicate line, and al leaders face it. A civilization governed by free wil always teeters on the brink of self-destruction. That’s part of its appeal and danger at once.”

  The Fae queen gave a delicate snort. “You are practiced in such conversations.”

  “Not so much. It’s difficult to find someone who understands the unique issues a monarch faces.” The Fae queen rose abruptly, moved to a cabinet where she added what looked like more lemon to her tea. As she did, one of the bumblebee-like Fae left her hair and drifted over to Jacob. It was a female in bright yel ow clothing, her feet enclosed in remarkably tiny slippers. When she hovered directly in front of his face, violet eyes staring at him out of a halo of brown curly hair, Jacob pursed his lips and blew gently. It sent her back in a lazy somersault.

  Immediately, she returned to the same position and four others zipped over from Rhoswen, wanting the same treatment.

  The pixies they’d met in the mountains had been similar in their childlike delight with the simplest things, and Lyssa expected Jacob had acted on his memory of that. He took the time to blow each one back in the same manner, patiently giving them al a turn, though his body continued to quiver from the sensual abuse it was enduring. Her servant, nearly tormented to madness for their pleasure, at the same time indulging the whimsical play of the tiny creatures. He couldn’t resist female demands, large or smal .

  You have a generous heart, my love.

  And a cock so frozen it’s going to snap off if you don’t decide to do something to heat it up soon.

  With respect, my lady.

  He bared his fangs, the reddish glint of his eyes tel ing her that, whimsical play or not, her servant’s savage lust was stil ready to be cal ed at her wil .

  Rhoswen returned to the table, but not to take a seat. She took one more swal ow out of the smal teacup, spreading the lingering moisture over her lips to make them glisten. When Jacob’s gaze focused on them, she gave a feline smile, glanced at Lyssa. “I tire of idle chatter.”

  Sliding her filmy garment off her shoulders, she let it drop. She wore nothing under it, but her body was marked with inked patterns like henna, intricate symbols and swirls that caught the eye, drew in the mind. The design curved over her shoulders, around her biceps and snaked down her back and upper abdomen, finishing in a single curl on her upper thigh. Butterflies, exotic flowers and dragons hid in the pattern. It was dizzying and titil ating both, inviting touch.

  Jacob looked, as he knew she wanted him to do.

  The round high breasts she’d displayed in the corset were just as appealing now, every man’s fantasy in proportion with the curved hips and slim thighs.

  When she pul ed the jeweled clasp out of her hair, the pale silken skeins fel past her hips.

  She turned to Lyssa then, a mute invitation. Lyssa rose, dropping the gold and green robe, but kept on the transparent black lace garment. She moved around the chair with that dark, dangerous sensuality she did so wel . As she came closer to the queen, close enough to touch, Jacob thought that seeing them together was enough to tempt a man with al sorts of damnation.

  “I think you rarely get the chance to have a conversation like this, either,” Lyssa observed.

  Rhoswen obviously hadn’t expected Lyssa to move into her personal space so intimately or continue the conversation thread. Her face tightened, her body going rigid, but she held her ground. The corner of her mouth curled in scorn. “I do not feel any kinship with you. Your being a queen in your world means nothing here.”

  “I was told the Fae do not lie. We are not in front of your guard, or your imaginary retainers. It is just us.

  You invited me to have tea here with you, alone.”

  “You set the terms for this meeting.”

  “Yes. I offered to share my servant with you. If that was al you desired, we would have already been doing that. Instead, you invited me to tea, and you have a child’s tea set, a dol that looks like me for some reason. I think you are not sure whether to hate me for who I am, or embrace me as the last remnant of what you have lost.”

  Lyssa held her gaze as she slowly reached out, slid her knuckles in a measured gesture along the woman’s cheek. The queen quivered. In her eyes, there was something alive and almost too big for the room. Lyssa touched her stil mouth with a thumb, a gentle caress.

  “We are half sisters. Aren’t we, Your Majesty?” It was equal y breathtaking and terrifying to watch his lady figure out the path into someone’s soul.

  Thinking of her lack of confidence earlier, Jacob wondered that she couldn’t see her aptitude for it. If she died and went to Hel , it would be not for her sins, but because the devil needed her skil in parsing souls.

  If he went, it would be not only to fol ow her wherever she went, but because he was far past the point of sel ing his soul for some relief. Despite the serious nature of their conversation, or maybe because of it, he was about to howl like a wolf caged in a room ful of females in heat. It wasn’t far from the truth.

  Lyssa stepped back, not letting her touch linger, which was a good cal . The Fae queen now looked as remote as one of her ice statues, everything she was hidden behind that cold exterior.

  “When I was young,” Lyssa said, “I was told that Fae didn’t feel sorrow. How could they? They weren’t mortal, they didn’t experience the wax and wane of aging, the sorrows and joys that could happen in the same finite lifetime. But vampires aren’t mortal, either, and I found out that sorrow and joy are part of every life, no matter how long.”

  As she spoke, she moved across the room, glancing over her shoulder at Rhoswen. Reaching Jacob, she settled against him, rubbing her ass against his cock, pressing her shoulder blades to his chest and abdomen. His body reacted as if she’d impaled herself. He clenched his hands into fists, dropped his head enough to nuzzle at her ear. She let him tease her throat, but kept her eyes on Rhoswen. The queen watched them, motionless, expressionless.

  “Earlier, I implied you don’t know how it feels to love someone with your entire soul. You see it from a distance, like a treasure you want but that eludes you. It makes you angry, a child deprived of a shiny toy she real y wants, so she’s cruel to others who have it. Or you take the toy away and destroy it.” She flicked her glance up at Jacob. “Or test its limits to the breaking point. But I think it’s far more complicated than that, and far less trivial.”

  “I love no one with my entire soul. I don’t have that luxury.” When Rhoswen spoke, there was a hoarse, unsteady note to it, an uncontained wildness in her eyes.

  Tread carefully, my lady. She’s a rattlesnake, and the rattle is at full volume.

  “I didn’t think I had that luxury, either,” Lyssa responded. Shifting so she was half facing Jacob, but where Rhoswen could see what she was doing, she slid a hand over his side, tracing the muscles stretched so tight in his restrained position. Leaning in, she curled her tongue, a delicate torture

  instrument, over the ice rod piercing his nipple. He made an animal noise of need. “But then I learned it wasn’t a luxury at al . It was brutal, demanding that I tear myself open down to the soul and find out how strong I real y was.”

  Her gaze met Jacob’s. “When my life fel around me, and al was darkness, it was that which made me a strong queen. A better woman.”

  She had her palm on his heart now, the heel of her hand resting on the ice rod, giving him an erotic tease as she gave him that gesture of intimacy. “In hindsight, I think I used being a queen as an excuse.

  It was my fear that stopped me.”

  Rhoswen moved forward, the slide of her thighs framing her sex, the movement of her body making the tattoo writhe in a sinuous pattern on her skin. In some places, he thought he saw the dragons, butterflies and other life forms in the design glimmer, shift to new positions. When she reached them, she faced Lyssa, Jacob between them. He sucked in a breath as she drew sharp nails down his side, deep enough to leave rivulets in the val ey between the ribs. They seeped smal drops of blood. “You are no longer considered a queen by the vampires, and you are an outcast, a lower Fae at my mercy.”

  “I beg to differ, Your Majesty.” Jacob managed to speak, though with a thick throat, his hands and forearms flexing under the silver manacles. “She’s more queen now than she ever was. She doesn’t need smoke and mirrors to validate it. It’s obvious to al . Especial y to you.”