A Mermaid's Ransom (Daughters of Arianne 3)

He chose a dark blue T-shirt to go with black jeans, and she found a navy blue Conservancy staff bill cap for him to wear. At first, she encouraged him to twist his hair under it, but it was far too thick. He fingered it. "I would blend more if I cut this."

"No," she said immediately. Biting her lip at his raised brow, she admitted, "Okay, you might. You're so striking, the hair just enhances the whole I-am-a-famous-rock-star thing." But I really like your hair. She gave herself a mental shake. She'd woken up this morning, determined to put aside the feelings, which could hamper him learning how to be a part of this world, and she was already falling down on the job.

He was looking at her closely. "Hair grows back. If I do cut it, it can be grown long again, to please

you. As a vampire, it grows far faster to a certain length."

She nodded, but when she picked up her keys and billfold, he closed his hand over her wrist and tugged her to him. He bent his head so his lips were close to her mouth. When she looked up at him, several strands of that hair had fallen and curtained one side of her face, closing them in a quiet space together.

"Tonight, I will take my time and savor every inch of you. I wanted you to rest last night. But I will not wait much longer to have you under me again."

Then he slid his hand to her nape and brought her to her toes so he could tease her lips apart, score her tongue lightly with his teeth, holding her with one hand only as she clutched the front of his shirt for balance.

Even as she was swept away by it, there was a strange quality to that kiss, as if he was seeking to pull something from her, needing something she wasn't sure how to offer. He dissolved that worry into heat, though, when he found the line of her swimsuit bottoms through the thin denim and traced them. After that provocative caress, he delved into the depression where her bottom curved under and met the juncture of her thighs. When he cupped her over that sensitive area, she gasped into his mouth, leaned harder into his body. "Dante . . ."

Slipping to the front of her jeans, he opened them and found her sensitive sex. She had a brief flash that she was going to be really late, and then decided she was wrong, for he was stroking her clit with unerring accuracy and tempo. Because of the loosened waistband, he slid his other hand down the back of the jeans. She jerked as his fingers went between her buttocks and began to tease the rim there, working her between the two pressures so she was shamelessly stroking herself on his hands, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. The soft cries caught in her throat gained in strength.

"Come for me," he ordered. "Gush against my hand, Alexis. Let me feel your fluids."

She spasmed just at the words, and clutched his skin beneath the shirt. In a matter of seconds, he'd robbed her of thought, splitting her between mindless pleasure and on-the-edge-of-a-precipice terror. It was scary, to free-fall so quickly at his touch, as if she had no will of her own.

I am your will. He thrust three fingers inside of her, rubbing, and she cried out, biting the shirt and his flesh beneath. He growled his approval. Two of his fingers in the back slowly pushed into her virgin rear entry, slow, tickling, teasing. I have not yet taken you here. I may do that tonight, after you make my cock slick with your warm, willing mouth.

"Oh . . ." Her guttural response was mouthed against his shirt, heated and wet, for her body was shuddering. She couldn't have remained upright except he had her pressed against her kitchen table, which was braced against the nook wall. Her knee was on one of the chairs, and he brought a second one near with a quick hook and jerk of his foot. He lifted her other knee up on it so she was on her knees on the two chairs, spread for him over the open space. The jeans constricted, pressing the seams against his hand, which drove his fingers deeper into her.

With a cry, she shattered, her release flooding as he'd ordered, making his hand that much more slick as he pumped the fingers inside of her, continuing to tease her anal area as well. As she bucked, she followed the orgasm on a white-water rapids ride through her spiraling mind, a kaleidoscope of colors and images. Her other hand had fallen to the waistband of his jeans, the belt holding them. Unbidden, she imagined him spanking her with that belt, for disobeying him yesterday. She'd be bent over his knees, her bottom pale and red both from the stripes, her cunt wet and pink for him, needing to be filled and claimed by his cock.

Those weren't her thoughts, she realized. They were his, planted in her mind. He was letting her see his desires, his demands, in the way he thought and spoke of them. Instead of being revolted, she was short of breath, her sex pulsing with another hard aftershock that had her pushing her head harder against his chest as she rode it out.

When she was at last done, her moans having left wet spots on his shirt, he slowly withdrew his hands, caressing her. He made her taste her fluids on the hand he'd had inside her sex, and she suckled his fingers shamelessly, earning a dangerous growl from his own chest that made her wonder if they were going to be even later.

But he drew back at last. Instead of letting her do it, he adjusted her swimsuit, tucked her shirt back in and zipped the jeans, slipping the button closed while his mouth rested on the crown of her head. His arm slid around her, holding her while she trembled and shuddered. She realized she was not as steady on her feet this morning as she'd supposed.

"I think I need a muffin," she whispered. "One of those really gooey ones with chocolate chips and a million calories."

"A good idea."

"And I should probably change--"

"No." He lifted her chin then. The motion made her realize how hard he was, pressed against her belly. When she would have sought him, he shook his head, caught her hands. "I want you soaked. I want you to remember my hand there, for however many hours we are at this place, and think of no other male. They will smell your scent and know you have been pleasured by the one who has claimed you. Who will take you tonight as I wish to do now."

Primal words she should brush off as belonging to his frame of thinking, not her own. So why did she respond so passionately to them, as if they were a mirror of her deepest desires?

"Humans don't smell that well, really." She cleared her throat. "But don't worry, I'll remember. If that was a prelude, you might kill me before we get to tonight. Slow, you said?"

"Very slow," he confirmed.

Though Dante suspected it would take a great act of will to wait until then, let alone go slow. Each time he had the desire to touch her like this, the urgency was such he couldn't slow down. He knew he'd never had anything like her, but for that reason alone he wanted to find the discipline to slow down. He wanted to peel all of her clothes off, lay her out on her bed. Perhaps find some way to bind her wrists and ankles so that she had to surrender everything to him, and he could devote hours to tasting her skin, caressing it with his fingers, pleasuring her over and over. Giving her water and food from his mouth.

Had Lyssa been right about a vampire's nature, the way they felt toward their servants? It had been one of many things she'd discussed with him, alone in her study, but now the memory of that specific discussion sprang up into his mind, disturbing him with the truth laid out before him.

"YOU'VE never had a human servant, have you?" Lyssa crossed her legs in a whisper of movement, her long-nailed fingers resting with casual elegance on her knee. "Mina said that Alexis believed you marked her as an accident, that you didn't really know how a marking occurred."

He was not comfortable admitting error or weakness in front of anyone, particularly this mysterious stranger. He shrugged, a noncommittal answer.

"You are protective of her, but there is a destructive streak to you as well. You need to guard against that, and not just for the obvious reason that the angel and the witch will destroy you if you harm that child."

"She is not a child. I have met children."

"She is very young, compared to my age. And a sexually mature woman, or male, for that matter"--she gave him a meaningful glance--"is quite often just a child in an adult body. Don't interrupt."

She leaned back in her chair. "Vampires have certain personality traits, Dante. They differ from humans, angels and mermaids in that respect, and it is one of the reasons none of them are entirely comfortable around us, except for the rare human who wishes to bond with one of us, who becomes a servant by choice." At his shift, she nodded. "Your servant did not choose, no more than you were aware you were making the choice for her. Fortunately, the girl seems devoted to your well-being. It may grow into a true master-servant relationship, or it may not. She may be merely a way station for you, though letting a marked servant go has its own problems. We'll cross that bridge if we get to it.

"However, in a true vampire-servant relationship, you will dominate her, sexually as well as many other ways." She gav

e him a quelling glance before he could speak again. "I am not suggesting a course of action, but a simple fact. It's innate to us, and therefore essential to how we order our world. I've already seen you demonstrate that irresistible compulsion to ensure she submits to you. The surrender of the servant's body and blood, heart and soul, is required by any vampire Master or Mistress. Unfortunately, as you've also already demonstrated, for a young vampire, it is a very dangerous compulsion, one that has often resulted in a dead servant."

Dante's gaze sharpened on her. "I have no reason to kill Alexis."

"But she may end up dead through your ignorance or actions, which is just as bad." Lyssa held his gaze, her own relentless. "It's another reason I strongly encourage you to come to me when these thirty days are over. I can help you learn to manage your compulsions, compulsions that may be exacerbated by your other blood, making them that more dangerous."

She rose, bringing their meeting to an end. "In the meantime, the best advice I can give you is to listen to what her soul tells you. With careful practice, you can delve that deeply into a third-marked servant. It will let you know if you are asking too much or pushing too hard. You cannot listen to her words or only her mind, because humans are often confused by their own feelings. But their souls will never lie to you."

IT was good advice, for Alexis was obviously confused and flustered. As she drove, talking in short, nervous bursts, she kept shifting. The wetness between her legs was uncomfortable to her, but titillating as well. She was already thinking of what the night would bring, keeping the tender flesh between her legs swollen, needy. He hadn't counted on the fact that making her wait would be an equal torment to him.

She had her hand on the console between them and he closed his over it, running his thumb back and forth over her palm. Twisting, turning, never a true pattern. Too much like his feelings about her, tangled with his thoughts about Lyssa's words, Jonah's disturbing observation and David's follow-up.