Now who’s pulling the rattlesnake’s tail? Lyssa gave him the gentle reproof as he grunted, the result of the Fae queen closing her hand on his cock cruel y tight. He was pretty certain they’d wrench a scream for mercy from him soon.

  Fluid leaked from the tip of his organ, dissipating the light coating of frost over the head with the heat of his seed. Rhoswen swiped it with a finger and brought it to her lips, touching it to her tongue. “You already know it is very unlikely you wil leave my world alive, vampire. But I can make it a painful end or a fast one.”

  “With respect, Your Majesty, my own lady has implied the same, many times.”

  Unexpectedly, Rhoswen laughed, a brittle sound.

  “I’m sure of that.” Her grip eased, and now her nails stroked along his length. She lifted a brow toward Lyssa. “I am feeling the effects of the lilania. How about you . . . sister?” Her voice was mocking, neither denying nor confirming the truth that hung in the air between them.

  Lyssa flattened her palm on his chest. She fol owed the same track, down to where Rhoswen’s hand was, until both their fingers curved over him, Rhoswen adjusting to cup his testicle sac while Lyssa took over stroking the shaft.

  Everything about Jacob—the straining muscles displayed so wel by his restrained body, the enormous cock, his ass clenched tight and back muscles rippling, those hungry eyes and tempting mouth—Lyssa knew al those features, yet the tea was making them even more vivid to her. She thought of the beetles in her garden, the way they moved so slowly over the surface of a leaf, exploring and biting. She wanted to do that to him, wanted to tease and taste. She was wet, her thighs soaked with her fluid already, and he could smel it, those nostrils flared. Even though he registered the Fae queen was aroused, an additional stimulant for his carnal nature, he was keyed in to her unique aroma, his mate’s scent.

  “I want that delectable backside.” Rhoswen’s fingers trailed over his flesh. “You may have his front, and enjoy the special pleasure of a cock encased in ice magic. That also gives you the fang side of this beast. I have no desire to be bitten. When I was talking about the possibility of fucking him to death, it made him harder, did you notice? He’s a twisted, dark creature.”

  “You ladies make it difficult to care about self-preservation.” Jacob’s voice was touched by his wry humor, mixed with courtier charm. However, it was also hoarse, his desperate need obvious, infused with heated lust. The vampire in him made that urgency a violent demand, though the servant in him was

  keeping

  it

  contained,

  barely.

  When

  Lyssa stepped in front of him again, the battle between the two was clear in the way his hungry blue gaze coursed over her, his fangs stabbing over his bottom lip.

  Touch me. I need to feel your hands. Their heat.

  He of course knew the demand would earn him nothing but cruel denial. He expected it, even as Lyssa knew the demand was made in earnest. In the end, it wasn’t about games at al , but brutal honesty and need. Giving him a look so unmoved by his plea it made him bare his fangs in a savage grin, she instead inched the dress up to her hips. When Rhoswen slid around to his back, Lyssa bent over, exposing her ass and wet pussy to him. The broad head of his cock brushed her buttock. He tried to stab into the wet folds he wanted, but of course he didn’t have that range of movement.

  She spread her legs, reached through them and back, high enough to clasp him as Rhoswen had.

  She had to maneuver him to a downward angle, but as long and thick as he was right now, he was able to amply accommodate her. Closing her thighs over that icy coolness, she reveled in the unique feel of it, the coolness somehow meliorated by the furnace heat beneath, the pressure of seed boiling in his testicles, ready to spurt inside her. It made her shiver, remembering how that virility had put Kane inside of her, a rare vampire child, binding them in yet another forever way. She also felt vibration, shudders of reaction from the rest of his body translating to that steel bar between her legs. She played with him, taking her time, sliding herself over the broad head then several inches up his length.

  Then back down. Jacob yanked against his bindings so hard the frame quivered. “Fuck . . . my lady.”

  “Shhh,” she murmured. She turned her head to see what the Fae queen was doing. Rhoswen had moved behind Jacob, but the queen was standing a pace back, stil watching them. However, now that Lyssa’s attention turned to her, Rhoswen withdrew the ice phal us from Jacob’s rectum, earning a grunt from him, a tightening of his face against the searing feel of it. Discarding that into a basin on a table, she took what appeared to be a heavy crystal phal us from a side wardrobe.

  Inside the facets of the object, spirals of lights played. She slid it into a harness made of sturdy cloth with a velvet overlay, a beautiful piece of embroidery that could have been the girdle of a medieval dress. Smal , jewel-like bel s were sewn into the design. As she tightened it on herself, they made a pleasant chiming noise. However, Lyssa’s sharp eyes saw another embel ishment to the girdle.

  Barbed prongs were worked into the fabric. As she pushed the phal us into Jacob, they would catch on his flesh, tear at it in tiny, savage bites. He would be goaded toward climax, but the pain would be the reins holding him back. At least in theory. She knew her servant wel .

  Lyssa rotated her hips on him, giving him a tempting view of her ass, and was fiercely delighted by the barrage of images that went through his head.

  Shoving her down to her knees, fucking her slick cunt, with al the brutal strength of a stal ion at the end of his patience. Fuck, he couldn’t wait much longer.

  She was dripping on him, and he wanted to lick al that cream away, then kiss her, let her taste herself on his mouth. He’d never been so hard in al his life.

  And yet he’d wait on her pleasure.

  Only by my will, Sir Vagabond. Don’t forget.

  Yes, my lady. It was al he could manage, his mind caught in a maelstrom.

  Straightening with calculated slowness, she slid off him and turned, just as Rhoswen positioned herself behind him. “Mount him,” she told Lyssa. “I want to feel him inside you when I take him from behind. I want to feel the flex of his ass muscles over this crystal cock while he’s pumping into you.”

  “Take time to enjoy the view,” Lyssa advised, giving Rhoswen a look of sensual accord. “Seeing those cheeks flex when he takes a woman is worth an extra moment. But when you put the phal us in, know that he’l resist, making it an even tighter fit.

  He’l make it burn to punish himself, because he has a natural aversion to being fucked like a woman.” Though Lyssa had done it to him several times, she’d never al owed another woman to fuck him with a strap-on. She’d also never al owed him to be fucked by a male. She knew enough about him now, and he knew enough about himself, about his need to serve her, that he could come for her on command no matter the circumstances. But he was stil a traditional straight male, her knight, and for her, for this servant, there was a code of honor she didn’t violate on a whim. Closing slim fingers over him, she rubbed her thumb on that throbbing vein beneath the cock head in a devilishly knowledgeable way. He bucked in her hold, swearing even more colorful y.

  “Hush. More of that, and you’l be gagged, Jacob.” Rhoswen didn’t know, but by asking Lyssa to mount his cock she’d actual y given him an out that Lyssa wouldn’t have normal y provided him. When he was inside Lyssa, he could bear anything. In trusted company, she would have refused him that comfort, because that was her nature, to make him surrender and prove it wasn’t the circumstances that gave him sexual pleasure, but her wil .

  Her code aside, the more he resisted something, the more likely she would test that boundary. Like now, tel ing Rhoswen the way of it in front of him, just to see those blue eyes narrow, the tension in that delicious jaw. She wouldn’t give Rhoswen al her secrets, though, particularly not those about Jacob.

  The possessive Mistress in her would hold on to the things that she knew led to a complete breakdown of Jacob’s shields, bringing him to an earth-shattering, vulnerable release.

  Rhoswen’s brow rose at Lyssa’s advice, her lips curving. Just as it had happened while they were drinking tea, discussing the proper way to rule, Lyssa saw that brief flash of synchronicity, a familiarity that warred with the animosity between them. Though that part was genuine, she wasn’t certain if Rhoswen’s arousal now was true or simply manipulated, a queen’s objectives instead of a Mistress’s nature cal ing the shots. Fortunately, from a thousand years in a vampire environment, Lyssa was more than capable of taking her pleasure and keeping her finger on the pulse of the current political environment. Maybe she could teach Rhoswen by example.

  She slid her hands up to Jacob’s broad shoulders.

  If his hands were free, he would have clasped her hips, helped hitch her up with a display of al that rippling strength, but she had the litheness and flexibility to manage it herself—taking advantage of his strength was an added indulgence. The tea truly was making every sensory detail even more stimulating. There were times she’d thought wanting Jacob would kil her, even without a pharmaceutical aid to enhance it, so this time it might be a real danger. She thought of the stories he’d told, of the lad getting trapped in a fairy circle and dancing away centuries with his love, then pining away for her. She related to that far too wel .

  Curving one leg high on his hip, she levered herself up so that she had the crease of her ass pressed down on his hard, cool length, and enjoyed another provocative rub there. Then, tightening her stomach muscles, she maneuvered outward and up to catch his broad head in the wet mouth of her sex.

  Rhoswen overlapped her hands, those long black nails gleaming over the horizon of his broad shoulders as the Fae queen positioned herself behind him. From Jacob’s flinch, Lyssa knew she’d pushed the broad crystal head into the rectal opening, but she’d stopped just inside, holding until Lyssa finished her own pleasurable penetration.

  She caught his mouth, sliding her lips over his, teasing his tongue as it lashed at hers. His ferocity made it a heated tangle. God, he had the most devil-blessed mouth, and the things his tongue could do . . . She groaned, a soft, deep noise, as she sank down on him, inch by inch. He was so deliciously cold and hot at once. And so hard and thick . . .

  possibly larger than she’d ever experienced him, bless Fae magic, though it was so significant it was almost uncomfortable, particularly as his hips jerked, wanting to slam up inside her. His powerful thighs trembled beneath the clamp of her legs, a stal ion that wanted to run wild. She made her way to the hilt, her buttocks resting on his swol en testicles. He was pushed up almost into her womb, but she’d been mingling pleasure with discomfort for a very long time. It was why she knew how to put her servant on the knife edge of it so wel .

  Rhoswen slid her hands away then, adjusting herself below. Jacob growled into Lyssa’s mouth, blue eyes flashing as she pushed into him. Lyssa had taught him how to release the muscles by pushing back, but just as she’d warned, sometimes he was stubborn. Whether or not she enjoyed the act itself, it was obvious Rhoswen enjoyed the power of taking the choice from him. It was in the rasp of her breath, the brief glitter of her eyes. Jacob shuddered, making a labored grunt as she reached ful penetration. Then she withdrew and slammed back in again. It rammed the glass phal us home, but more than that, he was stabbed by a ful dozen of the barbs on those tiny bel s, their sweet chime a contrast to the blood Lyssa smel ed. In the next blink, she knew there were thin rivulets running over his buttocks and down his quivering thighs, those smal bites taken out of his ass.

  In response, his cock thickened inside of Lyssa, and his fangs scraped her, at their maximum extension. He wanted to feed, was ravenous for it, but stil he held back. Considering the lust and violence roaring through him, she knew it was a monumental effort for a vampire stil technical y in fledgling stage.

  Lyssa was not about to give up the opportunity of immersing herself in al the sensations her servant’s surrender was providing, not with the lilania encouraging her to find an even more vibrant peak of sexual pleasure with him. Moving her grip from his shoulders to his biceps, she held on as she bucked her hips on him. She gave him al of her, teasing the limits of his restraints, knowing he couldn’t thrust as ful y as he wished.

  Coolness slid over her hands. The serpentine binding around his arms had slithered down over his shoulders, over her hands, around his throat. It snaked down between them, splitting to curve over her thighs then double wrapped her waist, cinching her more tightly onto Jacob’s loins, wrenching a cry from her throat.

  Rhoswen laid her fingers over the silver col ar binding him, drew back, then rammed back in again, letting them both feel the reverberation in cunt, cock, testicles and ass. Her mouth was wet, cheeks flushed, but the contrasting tightness to her face warned Lyssa, too late.

  Jacob saw it first, and his body turned to iron, muscles bunching in protest. Tearing his mouth free of hers, he tried to twist to see the queen, shake the bindings.

  “You bitch,” he snarled. “Let her go.” 10

  SHE hadn’t been mistaken. She’d seen brief flashes of longing in Rhoswen’s face, a desire to somehow immerse herself in the pleasure she and Jacob were experiencing. As a result, Lyssa hadn’t feared Rhoswen’s magic, her desire to rope them together in that pretty silver binding. But the queen had another agenda. And the instrument for it had just entered the room.

  The fox-faced Arrdol set aside his cloak, his gaze coursing over Lyssa’s lace-covered back, her bare ass and thighs, clamped high on Jacob’s hips.

  My lady—

  No. Her mind rejected it, too many dark things swirling up on top of the rudely interrupted coitus, disorienting her.

  “You wil feel such pleasure, having Arrdol inside of you.” Rhoswen had the bloodcurdling hiss of a snake, hypnotizing prey. “Even without honey on her eyes, a woman can become addicted to his sensual ways.”

  Rhoswen taking her consort, one of her retainers taking Lyssa as the interloper, the two of them bound as unwil ing prisoners between them, subjugated.

  They’d anticipated trickery, so Lyssa didn’t know why she was having difficulty ral ying. But as Arrdol came closer, those shadows were closing in on her mind. There was a coldness to her skin.

  No. Don’t touch me, don’t touch me . . .

  “Don’t do this.” Jacob was fighting the bindings like a beast in truth. However, as his efforts increased, muscles bunching impressively, the restraints on Lyssa began to tighten, particularly the one on her throat. She started to choke.

  “Careful, vampire. That Fae blood that al ows her to be in sunlight also requires her to breathe. A Fae may be immortal in terms of aging, but strangulation can kil us.” Rhoswen adjusted herself, burrowing the dildo deeper in his ass as she leaned forward, pressing her breasts to his back and talking to Lyssa directly, staring into her green eyes. “If you try your little magic trick in those bindings as you did in my great hal , they wil constrict further, and become so cold they wil burn into your skin like fire, al the way to the bone. I can interfere with your accelerated healing, and make sure that it doesn’t work. You wil no longer be so pretty. Death, disfigurement, or pleasure, submitting to my wil . An easy choice . . .

  sister.”

  Her blue eyes were like frozen ice. “You are no queen here. You wil learn that whatever I tel you is what you must accept. Arrdol wil have you, because I say he wil .”

  Lyssa’s hands convulsed on Jacob’s neck. She was floundering, and he saw it, within and without.

  The pleasurable effects of the tea clung to her, but they were being twisted in a horrifying way into something uncontrol ed and far more terrible. A nightmarish memory she carried and he alone knew, because everyone else who knew was dead.

  When he’d come into her service, he’d thought he understood submission to a vampire mistress, a vampire queen. She’d chal enged him, stripped him raw, taken away choices. But in the end, he realized she hadn’t. That he’d been wil ingly hers from the beginning, and the choices she’d taken were shields she’d broken open to show the depths of what he would give her.

  This was different. Rhoswen was no Mistress. She wasn’t seeking submission, that pleasurable, ultimately wil ing surrender that Lyssa craved from Jacob. Rhoswen wanted to break her spirit, shatter the far-too-fragile thing Jacob knew existed deep inside his nearly invincible lady. Her pale face was paler, her jade eyes flaring with rage and something else . . . She didn’t feel fear. This was dread, a spiraling feeling of tragedy that took her back to something that had wounded her so deeply she’d thought about walking into the sun rather than surviving it.

  No. Al his protective instincts, his fierce, unrelenting love for her, surged to the forefront. He unashamedly used that vampire mark to pour it into her, al the way down to the bottom of her soul, an abyss into which she was rapidly sinking. He found her there, pul ed her gaze reluctantly to his with a wordless snarl before she could look away.

  Even if it happens, it’s just you and me. They’re nothing. When I submit for your pleasure, to others, it is all about you, your pleasure. That’s what makes all of it doable.

  But that was him. She couldn’t do this.

  This wasn’t jealousy, worrying about another man touching her. It was so much more than that. There were some things she couldn’t handle. He knew it, because he was inside her soul. Despite his best attempts, her gaze was dul ing. She was pul ing away. Her skin was becoming ice cold, even more so than the frost rimming his stomach muscles or stil imprisoning his cock, his charge to satisfy the Fae queen obviously not yet fulfil ed.

  “Don’t do this, Your Majesty.” He growled as Rhoswen responded with a punishing thrust.

  Fucking bitch.

  Arrdol had set aside his sword belt, was moving forward, unlacing his breeks. Jacob heaved mightily, managed to turn his head enough to lock with the queen’s gaze, no matter that the tendons in his neck popped. “This is the act of a fucking monster, not a queen. Don’t do this to her, damn it. Not again. She won’t survive it again.”