Page 31 of The Vampire Queen's Servant (Vampire Queen 1)

Chapter Twenty-two

When he came, so did Lyssa, once again surprising her with how responsive her body was to him. Particularly in her current state. The demons pounding on the inside of her head had been driven back by the tender lovemaking he'd initiated. When she took control, needing the sense of holding the reins to tilt her world back to the correct axis, they returned like a building storm, their strength increasing the harder and faster she rode him, so even when the orgasm convulsed her body, she had to shut her eyes against the pain.

They dressed in silence. She didn't search his mind, but she sensed his quiet acceptance of her mood, such that he respected her silence, helped her with her clothes that now felt unbearably damp and uncomfortable. When he got her settled on the bike, he pressed his hand briefly over one of hers resting at his hip before he started the engine. He took them home via forest paths and sleeping neighborhoods, putting them on the main roads only briefly before he reached her drive.

By the time he stopped the motorcycle by the fingerprint reader, she was dizzy. She managed to put her thumb up to it, though her body jerked, alarmingly.

He was watching her closely, but she had no energy to spare as she settled back on the bike, pressing her cheek to his back again. Somehow that helped ease the pain roaring through her head, as if he possessed a magnetism opposite to her own that helped open the blood vessels.

He stopped by the kitchen entrance. When Bran bounded out of the darkness followed by his brothers and sisters, she raised a hand to fend off his usual rambunctious attack, but Jacob intervened.

"Bran, no. " His tone was sharp, authoritative. The dog stopped in midbound, backing off.

Jacob took her outstretched hand, concerned by the quiver in it as he helped her off the bike. "My lady, are you well? What can I do?"

"Yes. " Her voice was muted. Too labored to project. "It was beautiful, Jacob. So perfect. I'm sorry. "

"Sorry for--"

Before he could finish the thought, she spun away from him and hunched over, a shudder rolling through her slight frame. When he closed his hands on her shoulders, his palms partially touching her bare skin below the short sleeves, he found she was burning hot to the touch. She began to vomit into the grass, bright red blood, the force of the expulsion yanking her forward. When she cried out, his heart lurched in alarm.

Filled with pain for her, as well as questions he wanted to demand she answer, he held her until she finished. When she did, she was quivering in his arms, weak as any time he'd yet seen her.

"My lady. " He pressed his hand over her feverish brow. Her shaking hands rose, clamped down on his to hold it there, either to ease the pain or give her the comparative coolness of his palm, he didn't know. Her veins were beating violently, a migraine like he'd never felt before. "Don't speak, my lady. I'll get you to bed. Just hold on. "

***

Thomas had a form of autoimmune blood disease that had mutated in his altered servant's body, accelerating quickly with no hope of cure. Had Thomas known he was giving Jacob yet another invaluable lesson when Jacob had become his primary caregiver during those last terrible months? There'd been no doctor to call, no hospital to visit. Not even a diagnosis of the ailment because it hadn't been logged by modern medicine and never would be, as long as vampires and their servants remained the shadowy stuff of fiction and nightmares. As he had then, Jacob fell back on remedies and first aid he knew, as well as simple things the monks at the monastery had taught him. He wasn't certain if they would work, but that wasn't the main concern hammering in his mind now.

Though the symptoms between his lady and the monk were very different, Jacob had no doubt they were somehow connected. The cold fear in his vitals told him what he could not ignore or drown out any longer. She was dying. Whatever this ailment was, it was going to kill her in the end. The awareness of it was in her eyes, the same way it had been in Thomas's. In fact, now that he'd given a name to the hollow sickness in his gut, he recalled that awareness had been there all along, in many of the things she'd said or done, the silences she'd maintained, the looks she'd given him. Even the way she touched him, as if she wanted to savor each sensation to the fullest. Vampires were sensual creatures, so he'd overlooked the significance of her exceptional desire to dwell on the experience of a single touch, the beauty of one finite moment.

He'd been angry at her bluntly stated refusal to give him the third mark. He'd uncharitably thought it was more of her tests, holding a carrot just beyond his nose. Seeing now what he hadn't wanted to see, he realized she thought she was saving his life.

With a third mark, if the vampire dies, the servant dies with her. . .

A goddess had the full picture of the journey, its goals and obstacles, in a way a mortal did not. Faith was required to follow her lead. As she'd admitted with no apology, vampires in their stunning arrogance imposed the same relationship on their human servants. But she was a woman as well as a vampire queen, and he wanted her to know she didn't have to play at omnipotence to command his loyalty. He'd have done anything at this moment to ease her agony, given anything for the truth to be a lie.

"The pain. . . It went away during. . . " Her voice was a whisper as he laid her on her bed. She'd had him take her to her hidden bedchamber. "But afterward. It was like a flood. So beautiful. I ruined it. "

"Ssshh. You did nothing of the kind. I should have paid closer attention. It was my fault. "

"See. Told you. I ruined it. "

Another shudder racked her. After giving her the vial of medicine he carried, holding her chin to steady her as she took it down, he turned up the gas logs, for now she was shivering, her skin gone from fire to ice. Reluctantly, he went into the bathroom to get what he needed.

So many things about her were human. So many were not. When he'd helped her across the driveway, since she'd initially refused to be carried, a convulsion had seized her. Her hand had flown out, striking the side of the Mercedes, her personal car. It had put a dent deep in the side that tore the metal, cutting her skin. The wound had healed to a thin scar almost before he got her a towel.

How could nothing else hurt her, but this disease take such a toll? He wished like hell for Thomas. The monk's scholarly mind would have put two and two together and figured out the correlation between the two diseases, ways to slow or ease it. Thomas could have done that for himself, but Jacob had sensed the monk was doing only what was necessary to be around long enough to prepare Jacob to serve his Mistress. Without the connection to Lyssa and no hope of it ever being reinstated, Thomas simply hadn't the will to live. On all other subjects, Thomas had filled him in on every detail he could recall. But on the series of events that had given him the terminal disease, he'd said little, not even how he'd contracted it. He'd just noted brusquely it had to do with Rex's punishment and why his Mistress had to shun him.

Jacob wrung out the cloth in the first of the two basins he brought to the bed. The steaming water burned his hands as he laid it on her forehead. "I need to know what this is, my lady. Let me help you. "

"I've told you--"

"With respect, I believe the time is past for that. " He met her gaze, frustrated by the shuttered look behind the pain. "I have no leverage, no way of compelling you to heed my request. But Thomas trusted me. I think you trust me, too, no matter how uncomfortable that makes you. I insist on knowing, and that's that. I know giving me the third mark will not only help with the issue of trust, it will help me anticipate your state of mind and health better. You can draw strength from mine whenever you have need, even from a distance. "

"It's also a death sentence. Much shorter than you'd get as a mortal. Bran would outlive you. "

Her confirmation of it made something twist agonizingly in his chest, but he inclined his head. "I'm aware of that. "

Her eyes closed. "Why would I be worth such a sacrifice, Jacob? Does it have anything to do with me, or is it that insufferable code of honor you grat

ify?"

"Both, my lady. And the sex alone is worth dying for. "

"Jacob, this is not a joke. " If her head was not about to explode, he suspected she would have screamed it. As it was, she choked it out as a snarl. He cupped her face, his thumb stroking, reassuring.

"Sshh, my lady. Sshh. Aye, it's not. What must I do to convince you that you're worth it to me, my lady?"

"It's not worth it to me, Jacob. Please, stop. Just. . . Cease. "

When she turned her face back into the pillow, shutting him out, her body quivering with pain, he knew he had to let it go. For now.

He began to hum, a soft Gaelic tune. After his parents' death, he'd had to get accustomed to the idea that he would never again feel his mother's hand touch his brow before he went to sleep at night. During those first months he'd often wake in the dark of the night, feeling afraid and alone. As if their mother had left her maternal alarm clock implanted in his body, Gideon would rouse. Jacob would hear the soft shift of his body in the other twin bed, the rustle of pajamas, and feel such relief when his older brother came and sat on the edge of his own bed. He'd rest a hand on Jacob's leg and sing the songs of their mother's people off tune, the soothing tones of a boy's voice too fast changing to a man's.

So he kept up the tune while he cleaned her up, hoping it was providing comfort to them both. He eased her out of her clothes and tucked soft blankets around her. Sitting on the edge of the mattress, he removed the compress and slid an arm under her back,folding her up against his shoulder. Her forehead rested on it as he very gently unpinned her hair and brushed it out, knowing she'd feel more comfortable with it tended. Then he lowered her back to the pillow and replaced the hot compress.

"Was it Carnal that brought this on, my lady? This was not like the last time. "

"No. This is new. " She kept her eyes closed, though her lips twisted wryly. "I won't say he didn't contribute. "

Jacob picked up one of her hands and began to massage between her thumb and forefinger, carefully kneading the pressure point.

Some of the tension in her shoulders eased, the pounding mallets lessening in force. Lyssa cracked open her eyes. "Oh. That helps. "

"Acupressure. It's good to know we're not so different in some things. "

Lyssa looked at his hands, tan and strong, at the calluses she would never have. At the contrast of her pale skin, paler than he'd ever have unless he was out of the sun long enough to lose the pigment. "You did this with Thomas. "

"He taught it to me. " He nodded. "My lady, if it doesn't cause you more pain, will you at least tell me how you came to. . . Send Thomas away? I know it's somehow related to your sickness. And his. "

Lyssa closed her eyes again. Jacob did deserve to know. More important, he needed to know. There'd been something different about Carnal tonight. He was always a mocking son of a bitch, but she'd sensed something brewing in him, a kind of suppressed excitement. Like a boy dying to tell someone a secret, but savoring the smugness of knowing what someone else didn't. Whatever it was, or even if it was just her imagination distorted by her current state, Jacob deserved to have enough knowledge to protect himself against her enemies.

She took deep breaths, absorbing the touch of his hands as much as the compresses, letting the pain wash over her without resistance, hoping it would soon ebb.

"When I was married, " she began softly, "it would have been better if I'd had a female servant, but we tend to do better with servants of the opposite sex. But Thomas was a quiet, scholarly man. He was a monk when he became my servant. I exempted him from the sexual ways a servant is expected to submit to his Mistress. "

She felt his mind absorb that. As he remembered some of the images from earlier in the night, his visions made a lazy stir in her blood despite her current state. Then she recalled the point of the conversation and her reaction chilled.

"Rex didn't understand it. He'd thought of so many twisted things to do to a man who'd taken a vow of celibacy. My husband was not an easy vampire, not ever. He and Thomas did not get along well, and over time it got worse. "

Because Thomas knew he was a sociopathic monster, Jacob thought, then winced as her eyes opened, reminding him his thoughts were no longer guarded. But she kept on without comment.

"I encouraged Thomas to take a short sabbatical to his monastery in Madrid. For all his love and loyalty to me, which I did not credit as I should have, he needed a place from which to draw energy for the nourishment of his own soul. That was the place for Thomas. 'It's just a piece of land, a pile of stone, ' he'd say to me. But I knew his heart. I kept encouraging him to go, take some time. Things were well in hand here. No pending threats on our borders, though I suppose I forgot to look within as well as without. "

Her fingers closed into balls on her abdomen, and Jacob moved his massaging touch back there, loosening them. He knew he should tell her to rest, but he couldn't ignore his gut, which told him understanding all the pieces to this puzzle were critical to caring for his Mistress. He didn't know how much time he had.

Enough, Jacob. Be easy on that. This will pass.

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