Now she passed over overlords, ladies. Region Masters. Council members. Belizar was missing, oddly. She almost snorted as her gaze passed over Carnal, and he straightened in one self-delusional moment, thinking she might choose him. She would cut his hands off before they ever touched her again.
When she coursed fully over the room, she pivoted on her heel, began the same examination in a counterclockwise motion. Brian was not readily visible. In case of his absence, she had several neutral choices like Uthe, where she could bestow the favor with little expectations beyond the dance. She saw at least two of those choices in the crowd.
But she didn’t want any of them touching her tonight. Maybe she was wrong and this tide of emotional response was attributable to the disease, but even Uthe had sensed what Jacob had pointed out to her before, in his quiet, logical way. She was a woman who’d lost her husband and human servant less than two years ago and was now facing the end of her own life.
All these rituals she’d last shared with Rex…It was overwhelming at times.
She wouldn’t live to share Christmas with Jacob. That bothered her. She liked Christmas. Would she have made it this far these past few months without him? She doubted it. She needed to tell him that. Be damned any concerns about him getting too full of himself. They’d gone beyond that.
Her skin shivered with desire for one man’s fingers to be trailing along the line of her spine in her low-backed dress, one man’s thighs pressing against hers in the turn of the waltz.
The clock began to chime. One beat, two beats, three beats. She was measuring the beats of her heart rather than the counts of the clock. She let her gaze linger over the alternate choices, saw the humble appreciation for the consideration in their eyes. It was wellknown she often bestowed her second and third choices with a strike or two of the clock before she settled on her final choice.
The crowd shifted as the sixth chime struck, tension and excitement gathering. A few smiles, enjoyment of the moment among those who knew they were not competing for it. Then she altered the direction of her gaze by ninety degrees, turning precisely on her heel. The murmurs died away, bitten off by indrawn breaths.
The last chime echoed in a now completely silent ballroom. The preternatural stillness of vampires had descended, even their servants frozen in the gravity of the moment.
She could tell Devlin, as he stepped back from her choice, was dismayed and not a little shocked. Though he loved his own Mistress well, perhaps he was even a little disapproving. Yes, the Aussies were more informal. But there was a baseline code that governed them all, and she’d quite deliberately decided to grind it under the point of her heel.
Jacob moved forward, the tap of his dress shoes loud on the floor of the ballroom, a beautifully arranged Rosetta pattern done in varying shades of wood. While there was no falter or hesitation to his steps, the set of his mouth was tense. As the chime’s final note vibrated away on the air, he reached her, perfectly timing his approach.
Dropping to one knee, he bowed his head, perhaps trying to soften the adverse effect of what she’d just done. But she extended her hand, bade him rise. When he brushed it with his lips and rose, she dropped in a low curtsy before him.
The shocked gasps were audible this time, increasing the swell of mutters.
When she straightened, she used the pressure of his hand to draw her back up to stand before him. It was expected to be adored by one’s servant, but the way her skin burned with pleasurable fire when he looked at her as he did now…gods. How could they not see it?
My lady…Brian is not here, but we had some other choices…
I didn’t look for Brian, or any of the others.
A pause as he digested that, the light of his blue eyes fierce on her face. A light that did not hurt her eyes in the least. Concerned he might be, but she’d also reached into his soul and touched him. She knew he would deny her nothing. Hadn’t he said so from the beginning?
Is this wise?
What can they do? Kill us?
His lips tugged in acknowledgment of the irony.
I will bear no man’s hands on me to night, Sir Vagabond. Only yours. Not just now, but to the end of my life.
He swallowed. When he backed up a step, he took her with him.
It was a traditional waltz, though she’d chosen one of her preferred slow and languid 1920s torch songs as the music for it. He bowed to her again as she dipped into a more shallow curtsy, the formal beginning to the dance. Taking her other hand as she straightened, he drew her into his arms.
There was no music. Lyssa glanced over her shoulder with an imperious, faintly annoyed look. The music director snapped out of his slack-jawed amazement to give the violinist his cue.
The first pure, sad note quivered in the air, joined by several other string instruments. Jacob moved into the four- step count, entirely proper spacing between them. She was having none of that. She moved into him so he had to slide his hand more fully around her waist, his hand on the small of her back and point of her hip as she wished. The dress she’d chosen for tonight was a black sheath with a transparent overlay of jet sequins. The front neckline displayed her creatively raised bosom to give an eye-catching setting for her necklace of blood rubies and diamonds. The back dipped low, the sloping side edges cut in a jagged, lightning pattern held fast by a transparent piece of black net embroidered with the image of a Chinese dragon, matching the ink tattoo of one she’d had Jacob put on her shoulder. She could feel the heat of his hand through that transparent net.
Closing her eyes, she let him turn her, his arms and the press of his body guiding her. He was a good dancer. A wonderful lover. A man she could lean on. She imagined the picture they made, like the top of a music box, the swallowtails of his coat and the fluttering edge of her skirt rippling as they turned, stepped.
She didn’t try to listen to his thoughts, but she wasn’t closed to him. She was just drifting deeper into him, past the level of words, feeling the mélange of emotions that was Jacob swirl through her soul as he swirled her around the floor.
Once the clock hand changed to the first minute after nine, others could join them on the floor. The Council members did first, tight-lipped and formal, choosing their vampire partners. Soon the floor was floating in multiple colors and faces she blurred out. The only thing she wanted in focus was Jacob. She was flying, the rest like a cherry tree’s blossoms drifting around her in the void.
“My stepfather did that once, a long, long time ago. Do you remember? I stood under the branches and he shook them. It was pink snow. Fluttering around me, never ending.”
That’s what Heaven was. Cherry blossoms fluttering around her as a handsome man danced her around a wide floor. The petals landing on her eyelids, the tops of her breasts, his hair…
The safety of a protector, the passion of a lover…
When she reached up to touch the hair feathered over his brow, Jacob gently caught her hand, tightening his grip. Pressed his lips to her knuckles. My lady, I sense you are not yourself. Perhaps we should retire as soon as is acceptable—
Black and white. In a blink, color became black and white, and Heaven became Hell. Burning heat exploded as rage, scattering the cool, tranquil touch of the memory. Sensual feeling became passionate, irrational anger.
Locking her fingers around his hand without care for her strength, she narrowed eyes that had become filmed in red. “I’m not your servant, Jacob. Don’t propose to order me to do anything.”
A muscle flexed in Jacob’s jaw as he managed the steps without faltering. Another fraction of pressure and she’d break several of his fingers. That didn’t concern him. It would be a welcome distraction from the tidal wave of fear that filled him. They were under the scrutiny of everyone, many of the males already eyeing him as if they’d be happy to tear out his vitals. Devlin’s description of what happened to male servants perceived as having undue influence over their Mistresses was uncomfortably vivid. Would they be that aggressive toward Lad
y Lyssa’s servant? He suddenly was all too aware that if an attack came, he was her only protection. If they took him away from her…
The victim’s condition will begin to deteriorate quickly. The mood swings will be so sharp they can almost occur midsentence…When that occurs, the physical attack will come quickly on the heels of the emotional…The vampire has entered the final stage, and it will be far more rapid than any of the previous stages…
He should have made the call to Ingram. Earlier tonight, when he’d helped her dress, he knew he should have. He just hadn’t wanted to believe…He’d been stupid. The cell phone was in his pocket.
The other dancers were giving them a wide berth. Normally, he knew they would have maneuvered to be close to her, to win the favor of a word. Instead the circle of space they left around her was filled with a buffer of hostility, suspicion.
“May I cut in?”
Jacob turned, his hand still clamped in his lady’s grip, even as he kept his steadying arm about her waist. He found himself facing a vampire he’d not yet seen at the three-day Gathering. If he had, he was sure he would have remembered him.
He had several inches on Jacob in height. His skin had the smooth olive texture of the Middle East, and his eyes were piercing amber. Not brown, not gold, but a liquid amber so startling he doubted the man could have passed as mortal before color-altering contacts had been available. His hair was a burnished copper, long, bound back with ribbon to form a tail that fell just past his shoulder blades. He was dressed in a black, long-tailed coat much like Jacob’s, only his shirt was white, his tie white silk and tied in a cravat style. A stick pin of a griffin done in amber and gold matched the setting for the ruby crest he wore on his left hand. Instead of slacks, he wore fitted black breeches and polished Hessian boots.
His presence was causing quite a stir, which Jacob saw with relief had distracted the assembly from his lady’s unacceptable choice of dance partner.
Lyssa blinked at them both. Jacob tightened his fingers discreetly on her waist as a reassurance, waiting for her cue. But her mind was a whirl. Trying to get in tune with it, to grab a corner and slow it down, he was disorienting himself. He wasn’t practiced enough at doing it yet, had only managed to get in sync with her once or twice, and that was with her cooperation.
An energy reached into him, steadying him, joining him in his Mistress’s mind with effortless ease. Almost like the hand of a master paint er guiding his apprentice on the canvas, it gave him the ability to circle around his lady’s wildly spiraling thoughts, cushioning them from their erratic convulsions against the walls of her mind.
The only vampire who can stand toe to- toe- with her…who has as many secrets…
Jacob met Lord Mason’s gaze. Somehow Mason knew what was happening here. He’d no doubt Thomas’s hand was involved in that. Though he didn’t have time to dissect the whys and hows, like how the hell Mason could get into his mind and Lyssa’s, Jacob made the instant, gut decision to trust Mason as an ally. He was in over his head, and her life was far more important than his ego.
She needs to get out of here, soon.
“My lady?” Mason’s gaze flickered in acknowledgment before he dismissed him with proper vampire indifference. Jacob turned her hand over to him, which had loosened its painful grip, even though she’d not stated her will in the matter. She was staring at Mason. Jacob could feel the wheels of her mind struggling, trying to right it with the help of the two of them.
Then, with a click, it happened. A hard tremor went through her body, so strong he felt it through his fingertips as he made himself slide them from her waist. He forced himself to step back and let Mason’s hand take its place.
Lyssa blinked. Once. Twice.
“It would be my pleasure, Lord Mason,” she said at last.
Thank God. A shudder of relief passed through Jacob, almost as violent as hers.
“Just Mason will do, Lyssa. We know what a farce titles are.” He handed his cane to Jacob with a curt nod. “Shall your servant retire from the floor?”
“Yes.” She glanced at Jacob. “Thank you for the dance, Sir Vagabond. Await my pleasure with the other servants.”
Jacob gave a half bow and retreated. Though he wasn’t tied into any other minds here, the shift of reaction in the room was as abrupt as her temper and far more reassuring. Appreciative laughter and amazed murmurs. It now appeared as if she’d dallied with her servant until Mason arrived, a fine bit of drama to amuse the other vampires. She’d actually duped them all into thinking she would choose a human…
“Just like Lady Lyssa…She knows how ridiculous it is, all this nonsense about female vampires and male servants…So clever, allowing Lord Mason to make such an impressive entrance…Fine entertainment …”
He should be relieved and pleased by the turn of events, the incredibly fortunate save. So why did he feel like Malachi had speared him through the chest with a javelin, after all? Why did he want to snarl at all of them as he left the floor?
When he moved past Devlin without stopping, the man gave him a look that fair screamed, “What the hell was that all about, then?”
One thing he’d learned from his lady was inscrutability. He gave Devlin the cane for safekeeping but kept going as if he were on an errand for his Mistress. He had a third mark. She could speak in his mind, after all.
As he reached the arched entrance to the ballroom, he turned to see Mason talking to her. There was a light smile on her lips. His lady appeared mysterious and in control, her usual impressive mien, but Jacob knew it would be fleeting. Like contractions coming too close together, only in this case her behavior heralded the delivery of death instead of life.
But for now her new partner had his face bent close as they danced. Her head was tilted back, their mouths tantalizingly close. Everyone was watching them. How the hell could anyone not look at them? They were perfect together. If she wasn’t dying…Lord Mason was more than capable of protecting her. Loving her. Caring for her.
When he’d mailed correspondence for Thomas in the last month of the monk’s life, Lord Mason’s name had been on one of the letters. Though he hadn’t known the contents then, Jacob now had the answer to an unanswered question. Thomas had known what fate awaited his lady, and made sure her strongest ally among the vampires would be present when she most needed him.
Regardless, leaving the ballroom, leaving her in the care of another man, was the hardest thing Jacob had done yet.
As he turned the corner into a wide corridor, he saw the hall was lined with heavy tapestries. They likely allowed quick trysts between lovers who had the unusual vampire quirk of preferring privacy. When he ducked behind one portraying a medieval scene of the Knights Templar, he found it thankfully unoccupied.
He’d just wanted a moment to collect his thoughts. He rethought the wisdom of that a bare second later when his body broke out in a cold sweat, his hands shaking.
He had to protect her, and yet in a blink she’d made it clear that if she lost control, there’d be little he could do to contain the most powerful vampire in the room, sick or no. Five minutes before Mason arrived, he’d been facing a situation he knew he didn’t have the resources to address. He’d been counting too much on his lady being an active partner in her own protection. Debra had warned him the disease could progress rapidly once it hit a certain stage. His lady, who’d meticulously prepared for so much, had displayed a very human trait in avoiding preparations for the worst on her own condition. He was a fool. He should have planned better. He should have tried to convince her to cut her time here short.
But would it have changed anything? They had to make it to the Court session. He’d known that and had hoped, as he was sure she had, that she would make it. They’d had no choice but to keep going. They still had no other choice, racing against the clock and hedging their bets against death.
Several weeks before, she’d realized it took too much of the energy she needed to explain certain things to him. It was easier t
o let him ride along in her thoughts as she developed her plans and intentions. She just asked that he not interrupt her thinking or argue with her. She knew what she needed to do, and she needed his obedience to do it.
She’d told him everything he needed to know about the Gathering. He had a brain, and he would use it. If Mason hadn’t come, they would have danced. She would have ripped his arms off for trying to get her off the floor and that would have been perfectly acceptable treatment of a servant. Equilibrium would have been restored.
He pressed his temple against the cold stone of the wall. When Carnal’s face swam up in his mind, ironically it helped him shove the last of the panic attack away. No way that piece of shit was getting near her.
Tonight.They just had to get through tonight.
Then, God willing, he’d have time to get her home to die there.
Recalling again his nervousness before his first vampire fight, he remembered Gideon giving him a cuff on the ear, saying, “We’re all going to die, bro. Either there’s nothing after, in which case you won’t exist to care about it, or Mom and Dad will be waiting. Mom’ll say something like, ‘Now why did you do a fool thing like fight a bunch of vampires and get yourself killed?’ And Dad will say, ‘At least you should have waited until you got laid by a pretty girl.’ ”
Well, he’d accomplished the latter. The privilege of being in his lady’s body was more than any man could ever ask from Heaven or Earth.
Regardless of what happened, it was time to make the call they’d agreed Jacob should make to Mr. Ingram if things went downhill. Her actions tonight were the trigger. If they couldn’t make it through the Court session, couldn’t get the Council to pass the vote and then get back on the plane, then the only thing they could do to protect her people now would be done.
VQ 02 - The Mark of the Vampire Queen Page 31