Nightfall (22 page)

“What—”

He saw a flash of her blue eye under a fall of silky blonde
hair, and then the gleam of her fangs. He let out an oath as they stabbed into
his inner thigh, making him arch up in reaction as she locked onto the femoral
there. He felt the rush of blood, a result of his still-racing heart. Yet his
reaction wasn’t fear. Instead, he put his hand back on her head, fingers
twining in her hair as he settled, widened his thighs to make sure she had the
room she needed to feed. She had one hand clasped around his thigh above the
knee, the other sliding up to hold his cock and balls, knead and stroke. She
was right about the second mark, because instead of softening as his cock
usually did right after a climax, it stayed semi-hard, as if proving it would
take half the time to get ready for her again.

I could kill you like this, Quinn. Simply keep drinking
until you died from loss of blood. It would take longer, with the second mark,
but it doesn’t protect you from that.

Not the way the third mark will, hmm?
He stroked her
hair as he breathed deep, slowing his racing heart. She didn’t respond, just
focused on her meal. When she was done, she licked him as she usually did,
which he was beginning to realize was some way of coagulating the blood,
because whenever she raised her head, the meal done, the wound wouldn’t run
like a cut from ranch work would. Unless she wanted to see that flow of blood,
that is.

“Enough?” he rumbled, tracing her cheek, her lips. Her gaze
was fastened on him in that way that told him nothing of what she was thinking.
Could be good, could be bad. He’d wait and see, and deal with whatever came.

“I don’t think the problem’s going to be me being okay with
a stronger vampire taking a taste of me,” he said casually. “You seem to get
rowdy about it faster than me.”

“I expect that had to do with a pretty girl grabbing you
instead of a man.” She left the floorboards, surprising him when she coiled in
his lap, her legs over the console, feet in the driver’s seat. He shifted to
tuck her head beneath his chin, closed his arms around her. Selene wasn’t
really the cradling-in-the-lap type, but he didn’t mind the change of pace.

“Makes you feel manly, does it?”

“It does at that.” He brushed his lips over her forehead.
“You okay, honey?”

“Yeah.” She sighed, irritable. “Goddamn impulse issues. I
never had a problem before. At least not one I noticed.”

“Maybe it’s the first time since you became a vampire you’ve
found someone you really want to be with. So it’s kind of like a teenager with
his first love, setting off a whole new set of hormones. All part of ‘growing
up’, vampire style.”

She tilted back her head, eying him. “I know I’m not giving
you my thoughts, so it’s uncanny how you’re picking up on them.”

“I’m just glad you have a sense of humor about it. It
shouldn’t upset you, you know. If some guy had grabbed your ass in there, I
would have put him through a wall and then followed him out to kick him across
the parking lot.”

She gave a half-chuckle, an encouraging sound. Though she
wasn’t letting him in to see what was happening in her head, he had a feeling
she was pretty pissed at herself about it. It was still vibrating off her skin.
She’d just taken a lot of the mad-with-herself part of it out through violent
sex with him. Which worked great as a mutually beneficial solution, all in all.

Another half-chuckle. “Men. So easy. Do you care about
nothing else?”

“I’m just glad we drove into the city for dinner. Else the
scuttlebutt at the Nightfall post office would go something along the lines
of…” He affected a gossipy old woman’s tone, exaggerating his Texas drawl.
“‘Did you know Quinn was getting it on with that hot new bar manager behind the
all-night diner, his pants to his knees and everything hanging out for God to
see?’”

“And let me tell you, God has blessed that boy,” she
responded in the same affected voice, reaching down to close her hand over
God’s blessings, which was getting more proud about it, especially as she
started to stroke and squeeze. He closed his eyes, trying to keep it under
control, but a little bite of her nails had him meeting her gaze.

“You keep it under control when I say, Quinn. If I want to
make you come in my hand right now, you will. Remember? Who controls your
climax?”

He studied her face, the beauty of it, the complicated
layers in her eyes, her expression, and suddenly felt his heart twist. What if
she didn’t give him the third mark? What if she disappeared from his life?

“You, Mistress. Only you. Now and always. All right?” He
framed her face, putting his desire, his demand in the touch, his voice. Maybe
she’d prefer it to be more of a plea, but he wasn’t built that way and he was
banking on how she liked that side of him. He hoped so, because he wasn’t
seeing it changing this century.

“A third mark lives to be three hundred, on average,” she
said, turning her face to slide her lips over his palm. The tip of her tongue
traced the crevice between two fingers, and then she sucked on his middle
finger, biting it gently before she straightened. She pulled up the straps of
her dress, though she kept him the way he was, jeans down, her bare pussy pressed
against his genitals. “The only thing that kills you, other than my death, is
some kind of catastrophic dismemberment, like beheading, which basically kills
everything, or steel through the heart.”

“So for vampires, it’s a wooden stake. For a servant, steel?
That’s peculiar.”

She shrugged.
There are many things about the
relationship between vampire and servant that defy explanation.
“For
instance, when a human is given a third mark, a mark will appear somewhere on
your body, usually something symbolic that represents the relationship between
the two. We don’t direct or impose that. It just happens.” Her gaze shadowed.
“I expect centuries ago, it would have been called the Devil’s mark.”

“Or maybe it’s another symbol of ‘what God has brought
together, let no man rend asunder’.”

Her gaze lifted to him. “Oh Quinn. What am I going to do
with you?”

“Well, what you just did is great. But you know what I want.
And…” He twined his fingers around a lock of her hair, thinking how it always
felt softer and silkier than anything she wore, and she wore plenty of soft,
pretty things, “I wouldn’t be pushing it so hard if I didn’t have the feeling
you want it too.”

“As we’ve seen, what I want may not always be well thought
out. Maybe in a hundred years…”

“In a hundred years, I’ll be dead. Maybe it’s the same no
matter when you meet a human servant. Maybe whether the vampire’s sixty or
three hundred, the two people involved just know.”

Her gaze shuttered again, her mouth tightening, which told
him more than he expected she wanted him to know.

“You’ve been told it’s like that, haven’t you?” he asked.

“Yes. But that’s not the point.” She held up a hand.
“Enough. Seriously, Quinn. Stop.” She took a breath. “You’re not to bring up
this subject in any way. Subtly, metaphorically, directly, until I’m ready to
discuss it again. Understood?”

It was a pretty damn important topic to him, but he could
tell by the set of her jaw she meant it. He nodded, then at her look, he added,
“Yes ma’am.” Though he gave her a bit of that drawl, a glint to his eye, that
had her narrowing her gaze in return.

“We’re not going to see one another this week,” she decided.
“I’ll come to you then, after I’ve had time to think about this on my own. No
jerking off, no wet dreams, so you better calm yourself before you sleep,
cowboy. You won’t talk to me unless I reach out to talk to you during that
time. Got it?”

Fucking hell. He couldn’t imagine going a few hours without
her, let alone a full week. “Yeah. Ow, Jesus.” He jumped when she reached down
between them, pinched his cock hard enough he figured she’d transformed her
fingers to pincers. “Dammit, woman…”

“When I come to you Sunday, you better be prepared to take
that strap-on we’ve been talking about.” Leaning forward, she spoke against his
mouth, her fingers curling around his throat, constricting just enough to let
him feel the reduced air flow. “I’ll put you through your paces, see if you
truly do have what it takes to be my servant. Up until now, I’ve been holding
back with you. You need to think on that.”

All he could think about now was that strap-on, and how he
was going to get through the week with that running through his head. She
cocked a brow. “Perhaps before I decide on giving you a third mark, I’ll brand
you with one of your irons, give you a mark that’s all my creation. Can you
stand still while I do that to you, Quinn?”

In her eyes, he could tell putting red-hot metal to sizzling
against his flesh was more than a teasing threat. She meant it. The crazy thing
was the idea, as unnerving as it was, got a leap of response from his heart and
his cock. She must have felt both, for her lips did that tightening thing
again, as if she was restraining her own reaction.

“There will be no way to prepare for what I demand of you,
Quinn. You must open up your will and be entirely mine. You understand?”

“So far you haven’t told me anything I don’t already know.”
He met the challenge with a cocky tone and a direct stare that had her lips
curving, her eyes flashing dangerously. “Mistress,” he added.

She shook her head at him. This time when she spoke, there
was no humor or challenge, just a serious look. “Take the week to think this
through, Quinn. From every angle. You can say no. All the way up to the moment
you can’t.”

Leaning close, she brushed her lips over his, grazed him
with a fang. Her blue eyes were preternaturally vivid, all vampire. “But
whatever you
or
I decide on the third mark,” she breathed, “I will take
your beautiful, tight virgin ass next Sunday. I won’t be denied that.”

Christ.

It was the longest week of his life. Thanks to the
experience of his horse and his ranch hands, he’d kept himself from too many
stupid mistakes, but if he’d been thrown on his head, he could have laid the
blame square at Selene’s feet. Except that was where he wanted to be, on his
knees, tasting the creamy skin of her thighs, sliding his tongue over her wet
pussy, pleasuring her until she gushed against his lips.

Not jerking off and waking up every hour to make sure he
didn’t get himself caught up in a wet dream, trying to honor her demands, kept
him jumpy. But she’d been right about the second mark letting him do fine with
less sleep. She’d said it got even better with the third mark. He’d be able to
run the ranch, visit her at the bar, serve her needs and feel refreshed with
only several hours of sleep. Pretty fucking amazing.

On Sunday, Quinn leaned against the back porch railing,
tension running through his body like a live wire. When he shifted, the muscles
of his ass clenched, the slick slide between his buttocks reminding him of how
well lubed he was, per her instructions. While he was so hot and hard he’d
probably go off when she got out of her car, he wasn’t sure about having a huge
dildo shoved up his ass. But what really had him antsy was her decision about
the third mark.

If she’d tuned in to his head at all this week, he was sure
he would have sounded like one of those kids on a trip—“Are we there yet? Are
we there yet?” But even if she heard it, she’d said nothing in his mind. He
missed having her voice there.

She’d finally called him earlier in the evening, just after
she’d risen from sleep.

“What time will you be here?” he asked, trying not to sound
like it was a demand.

“Just after dark.” Her voice held a hint of humor. “Are you
anxious for me?”

“Always.” That was no damn lie.

“Did you eat lightly today? Shower thoroughly and lube your
ass? Stretch it with your fingers all week as I instructed?” Her voice was so
soft and gentle when she said the words he could hardly reconcile it with the
knowledge she was talking about him prepping for the strap-on.

He cleared his throat. Yeah, he’d shoved his fingers up his
ass, imagining they were hers. “I did, Mistress.” He’d come to love calling her
that. He didn’t give a damn what anyone thought about it.

“Very good. Remember, though, that’s only the beginning of
the preparation.”

His cock had swelled and the muscles of his ass tightened at
the sensual threat.

Now he waited for her, the silence of the evening broken by
the lowing of cattle in the distance and the friendly nickering of horses in
the barn. His life had changed so much in a few short weeks, since the night
the petite blonde appeared at the After Hours Saloon. His world had been turned
upside down in so many ways.

Thinking it was incongruent with being the ultimate alpha
male, he’d denied the submissive side of himself that accepted—no,
embraced—being completely hers. With the third marking, it would be forever. He
realized it wasn’t just that he wanted it. No, he craved it. Craved her. He was
willing to do things he’d never imagined in order to make that happen.

Selene.

Just the sound of her name in his head, the image of her in
his mind, was enough to send his pheromones on a wild ride. He wanted to
possess her, yet at the same time he knew that after tonight he might be hers,
her servant to command. The anticipation had him riding the razor-thin rail of
both lust and some unnamed emotion.

When he heard the crunching sound of tires on gravel, he
strode through the house and out the front door, in time to see her car pull
into the parking area. Just the sight of her exiting gracefully from her car
made the muscles in his stomach tighten in anticipation of what was ahead and
his cock throb painfully. Tonight she was dressed in yet another blue dress,
this one with tiny sleeves, a deep neckline and a flirty skirt that came down
barely past the tops of her thighs. When she stepped into the halo of the
outside lights he could see the outline of her body through the flimsy
material. Her hips swayed and the pale gold of her hair rippled over her
shoulders as she walked toward him.

He walked down the steps to meet her, lifting an eyebrow at
the small satchel she carried in one hand.

“Does this mean you’re actually planning to stay the entire
night?”

A knowing smile flirted at her lips. “At least until the
edge of darkness begins to lift.”

He brushed his fingertips along her jaw. “We have to figure
out how you can stay here during daylight hours. How do other vampires do it?”

“A topic for another time.” She lifted the case. “Let’s put
this in your room. Then I’d like a tour of the barn.”

“The barn?” What the hell?

“Yes. If I’m going to be with a rancher, I need to
familiarize myself with—things—on the ranch.”

“Are you?” he asked. “Going to be with me?”

She turned her cheek into his palm. “Perhaps. If you’re very
very good.”

Asking for more would be a futile exercise. She’d tell him
what she wanted him to know when she wanted him to know it. With his hand at
the small of her back, he guided her through the house to his bedroom where
they deposited her satchel. Then, taking her hand, he led her out the back
across the yard to the barn.

As they entered the building, she stopped and drew in a deep
breath. “I never knew horseflesh could smell so good.”

Quinn laughed. “Some people would say it stinks, but I’ve
been around it all my life. To me it’s better than a lot of perfumes.” He
stopped just inside the entrance. “So. You want the full tour, or are you
looking for something specific?”

“I’d love to see each of the horses, but then I need to
visit your tack room.”

“Tack room, huh? You really have been doing your research.”

“There are horses in New York,” she said with dignity.

“I’ve heard tell. Should I ask what you’re looking for?”

“I’ll know it when I see it.”

A provocative statement if ever there was one.
What did
that have to do with tonight? What the hell was running around in her mind?

He walked her down the broad center aisle, watching her stop
to touch the nose of each horse. They came right up to her, even the skittish
ones, and rubbed their velvety nostrils against her palm. He hesitated when
they came to Midnight’s stall. The ebony gelding could be antsy sometimes. Why
was he not surprised when the big animal poked his head over the stall door and
gave Selene the equivalent of an equine kiss?

“Yours,” she said.

“Mine,” he affirmed.

“He suits.” She rubbed his nose. “Horses are usually
skittish around vampires, but the Fae blood draws them to me. Which is nice,
because I like big, powerful animals.” She gave him a sidelong glance. “Maybe
we’ll take a nighttime ride sometime.”

“Anytime you want.”

Nodding, she studied Midnight’s intelligent brown eyes. “Not
tonight, but I would still like to see your tack room.”

He opened the door to the room at the front end of the
stalls, a space as big as three stalls together, and ushered her inside. Every
bit of tack—all the equipment needed for horses—was kept in disciplined array.
Quinn insisted on it. Every man cared for his own and it had to be in tiptop condition.
Saddles and bridles filled racks on two walls. On the others were shelves and
drawers with a variety of equipment.

Selene wandered from spot to spot, trailing her hands over
the supple leather, touching the stirrups. When she lifted a hoof pick and
examined it with curiosity, Quinn felt his balls shrivel. No way was that going
to be part of their fun and games. But she’d said she was going to put him
through his paces, see if he had what it took to really be his servant.

She looked at him and grinned.

“You look terrified, cowboy. My goal is not to injure you,
but to bring you pleasure.” She turned the pick over in her hands. “This looks
more like an instrument of torture.”

He relaxed. “It’s for cleaning horses’ hooves.”

“Where are the ropes? Oh there they are.” She walked over to
a section of the wall where various lengths of rope were coiled on pegs.

He waited in silence while she examined each one, measuring
its length, letting the ends slide over her palm. At length, she chose two of
them and looped them over one of her arms. She poked in some of the drawers,
lifting out a variety of bits, selecting one that had leather thongs trailing
from each end. “I need to be sure my stallion is properly tacked,” she said.

A tumult of emotions swirled through Quinn. He had no idea
what she had in mind and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out. Maybe this whole
thing was a bad idea.

It didn’t really matter, did it? Good idea, bad idea, he was
hers, he knew it. He wanted her with a need so furious it consumed every bit of
him. Whatever she wanted, if he could survive it, he’d do it.

She held his gaze, telling him she was hearing every thought
scrolling through his head. Then she tilted her head, an unspoken command to
follow her. When she turned, he did, his gaze captured by the round gleam of
her bare shoulder, the coquettish tilt of her head as she verified he was
following her back to the house. Which she didn’t need to do, since he was
already bound to her by two marks, but he liked seeing the delicate profile. Selene
was all woman, knowing exactly what subtle gestures got a man’s blood boiling.

The house was silent, Annette long gone to her own home, the
hands settled wherever they were, bunkhouse or other dwelling. She led the way
to his bedroom as if she were in charge of the house, and damn all, just maybe
she was. The sway of her hips beneath the insubstantial fabric of her dress
made him want to reach out and cup the cheeks of her ass. He had to fist his
hands to keep from doing that. Selene was in control.

Quinn had left one lamp on in the bedroom, the one beside
the bed, turned to its lowest setting. When he moved to turn on the other one,
Selene put her hand on his arm.

“Leave it. This gives me more than enough light.”

Dropping the ropes onto a chair, she headed for the bathroom
with the bit. He heard the sound of running water and wondered what the fuck
she was planning to do with that piece of hardware.

Best not to wonder.
Her voice, in his head.

She came back into the room and placed the bit on one of the
nightstands. Quinn stood there, watching her, waiting for instruction from her.
When she turned to him, her eyes were hot and hungry.

“Are you ready to do as I order, Quinn? Anything I order?”

He nodded, body tightening in anticipation of what was to
come.

She fixed him with her haughty gaze. “I didn’t hear you.”

He swallowed. “Yes, Mistress.”

“Excellent. Remove your clothes for me. Do it slowly. I want
to enjoy seeing my package being unwrapped.”

He used the bootjack in his closet to remove his boots, an age-old
device that allowed him to hook each heel in the notch provided and tug his
foot free. Setting the boots aside, he turned back to Selene and unbuttoned his
shirt. When he pulled his arms free and tossed the shirt aside, she stepped
closer to him and ran the tips of her fingers down the length of his chest. She
stopped briefly as she came to each of the old scars not quite hidden by his
chest hair.

“I notice these every time you’re naked. How did you get
them?”

He shrugged. “Hazards of rodeoing and ranching.”

A tiny frown creased her brow. “You chose dangerous
professions for yourself.”

“It is what it is. Nothing was permanently damaged.”

He was glad for the discipline he’d learned from rodeoing as
she traced every ridge of muscle, brushed the fine mat of hair, drew a line
with the tip of a finger from his breastbone down to the buckle on his belt. A
shiver skated over his skin as she licked each scar with slow deliberation, as
if just her touch could heal him even more. Fingernails flicked at his nipples,
sending jolts of heat to his cock and his balls. With her delicate tongue she
lapped at his toned pectorals then took a step back.

“Continue,” she commanded.

He opened the big silver buckle on his belt and pulled it
free from the loops before lowering the zipper of his jeans. She smiled when
she saw that he was commando.

“You appreciated it the other night,” he reminded her. “I
thought you would enjoy it again.”

“I’m happy that you choose to please your Mistress.”

“Always.”

When he was completely naked, he stood immobile while her
eyes drank him in. Her slim fingers stroked his cock and she cupped his balls,
giving his sac a gentle squeeze. Stepping back, she let her gaze take in every
inch of his naked body, from his neck to his feet. One corner of her mouth
tipped up in a smile when she came to his shaft, swollen and standing proud and
erect.

“I see your body is ready for me.”

He gave a hoarse chuckle. “It has been for over a week.”

Moving closer again, she wrapped her fingers around it and
dropped to her knees to lick the engorged head with sweeps of her tongue. She
caught the bead of fluid sitting on the slit and dragged it into her mouth.

Quinn clenched his fists, digging his nails into his palms
to maintain some semblance of control. Though she was on her knees, he was the
one subjugated here. She would go at this at her own pace and nothing he said
or did would hurry her. Indeed, it might only earn him a punishment, although
that idea wasn’t half bad, either.

Selene drew back and rose to her feet. Bidding him stay in
place with just a look, she carried the small satchel she’d brought with her to
the nightstand and opened it, removing a tube of gel along with some other
unidentifiable bottles. When she lifted out the apparatus that could be nothing
but the strap-on, Quinn’s heart stopped then stumbled into an erratic beat.
He’d certainly seen dildos before. Many of the women he’d enjoyed sex with had
their own collection. They’d asked him to put them up their asses while he
fucked their pussies, but none of them had ever put one up his.